Six of Crows (Six of Crows, #1)

by Leigh Bardugo

Joost had two problems: the moon and his mustache.

Instead, her eyes were brown—lovely, dreamy … melted chocolate brown? Rabbit fur brown?

Kaz’s eyes found Inej unerringly in the crowd.

trousers in every print and pattern imaginable. Kaz was the exception—the picture of restraint, his dark vests and trousers simply cut and tailored along severe lines.

“I’m a businessman,” he’d told her. “No more, no less.” “You’re a thief, Kaz.” “Isn’t that what I just said?”

“But I’m the one at your table, Geels, and I’m not here for a taste. You want a war, I’ll make sure you eat your fill.”

Shame holds more value than coin ever can.”

like it when men beg,” she said. “But this isn’t the time for it.”

“You’ll get what’s coming to you someday, Brekker.” “I will,” said Kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.”

“There’s something wrong with you, Brekker. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not made right.”

“Well, I’m the kind of bastard they only manufacture in the Barrel.”

If you couldn’t walk by yourself through Ketterdam after dark, then you might as well just hang a sign that read “soft” around your neck and lie down for a beating.

But he hadn’t needed a great gang, just one he could make great—one that needed him.

“When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”

Kaz knew it, and for some reason he loved to rile her. He wished he could read her expression now. There was always something so satisfying about the little furrow between her black brows.

“Men mock the gods until they need them, Kaz.”

To say he trusted Inej would be stretching the point, but he could admit to himself that he’d come to rely on her.

Inej was one of the best investments Kaz had ever made.

“I broker information.” “A con artist—” “I create opportunity.” “A bawd and a murderer—” “I don’t run whores, and I kill for a cause.”

“This may come as a surprise to you, Van Eck, but we canal rats value our lives just as much as you do yours.”

If you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” “Oh, it’s worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don’t get paid.”

but nothing was sacred to the Kerch except trade, so she’d gone out of her way to make the risk much higher than the reward when it came to disrespecting her.

broken backs, paint-spattered canvas sheeting. Inej moved aside a bucket full of cleaning supplies that she’d placed there precisely because she knew no one in the Slat would ever touch it.

She felt slightly guilty for eavesdropping on Kaz, but he was the one who had turned her into a spy. You couldn’t train a falcon, then expect it not to hunt.

What would Kaz say if she suddenly stripped down and started washing herself in front of him? He’d probably tell me not to drip on the desk, she thought with a scowl.

“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?”

In moments like that, he thought she might hate him.

And now?” she managed, her eyes still blazing anger. “Now, Helvar’s freedom is worth something.” “It—” He held up a hand to cut her off. “Worth something to me.”

That’s what he wants, not what he needs,” said Kaz. “Leverage is all about knowing the difference.”

That condescending tone made Kaz so slappable.

“And Kaz Brekker?” “A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.”

You may still die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”

Being angry at Kaz for being ruthless is like being angry at a stove for being hot. You know what he is.”

Matthias Helvar was a drüskelle, one of the Fjerdan witchhunters tasked with hunting down Grisha to face trial and execution, though to her he’d always resembled a warrior Saint, illuminated in gold.

Just trust me, Nina.” “I wouldn’t trust you to tie my shoes without stealing the laces, Kaz.”

“Can I have waffles?” Muzzen mumbled. “We’ll all have waffles. And whiskey.

Traitor, witch, abomination. All those words came to him, but others crowded in, too: beautiful, charmed one.

You’ve never seen a fighter survive until now, he corrected himself. The bronze girl’s daggers merit watching.

“You were early, Jesper,” Kaz said as he nudged Matthias toward the boat. “I was on time.” “For you, that’s early. Next time you plan to impress me give me some warning.”

The longing for it twisted in his chest—to hear his language spoken, to see his friends again, taste semla filled with sweet almond paste, feel the bite of the northern wind as it came roaring over the ice. To return home and be welcomed there without the burden of dishonor.

Even if their quarry was already on his way to the afterlife, Matthias would have his freedom.

We’re not going in through the embassy,” said Kaz. “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking.” “Who’s Mark?” asked Wylan.

Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

“I need your skills, Inej. That’s not the same thing. You may be the best spider crawling around the Barrel, but you’re not the only one. You’d do well to remember it if you want to keep your share of the haul.”

There had been no boys to bring her flowers, only men with stacks of kruge and purses full of coin.

Jesper could never tell how much of what Kaz got away with was smarts and planning and how much was dumb luck.

She would die here, in freedom, beneath the beginnings of dawn.

“You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments.

The pain in Kaz’s leg was terrible, the worst it had been since he’d first broken it falling off the roof of a bank near the Geldstraat. It was possible he’d fractured the bone again. Inej’s weight wasn’t helping, but when Jesper stepped into his path to offer help, Kaz shoved past him.

He was alive because of Inej. They all were.