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“No mourners,” Jesper called as he loped off into the twilight, long legs eating up the distance easily. “No funerals,” they replied.
It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker,
Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.
“Stop being dense. You’re cuter when you’re smart.”
Wylan’s cheeks went pink. He scowled and pulled his collar up.
“You’re a Fabrikator,” Matthias said grimly.
“Just barely.” “You either are or you aren’t,” said Wylan. “I am.”
miraculously
Rietveld,
She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.
“You can explain why our illustrious Shu scientist looks like one of Wylan’s school pals along the way.”
“I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”
“I don’t know!” Jesper said angrily. “Maybe I liked your stupid face.”
“Scheming face,” murmured Jesper. “Definitely,” agreed Wylan.
