Page 46 of Crooked Kingdom (Dregs 2)
As if she had sensed his sorrow, Nina had opened her eyes, the pale green of a bud about to unfurl, a color that brought him back from the ice. “What was his name?”
“Trassel.”
The corner of her lips tilted. “Troublemaker.”
“No one else wanted him.”
“Was he a runt?”
“No,” Matthias said. “The opposite.”
It had taken more than a week of hard travel to reach the Ring of Stones. Matthias hadn’t enjoyed the trip. He’d been twelve years old, new to the drüskelle, and every day he’d thought about running away. He didn’t mind the training. The hours spent running and sparring helped to keep the longing he felt for his family at bay. He wanted to be an officer. He wanted to fight Grisha. He wanted a chance to bring honor to the memory of his parents and his sister. The drüskelle had given him purpose. But the rest of it? The jokes in the mess hall? The endless boasting and mindless chatter? That he had no use for. He had a family. They were buried beneath the black earth, their souls gone to Djel. The drüskelle were merely a means to an end.
Brum had warned him that he would never become a true drüskelle if he did not learn to see the other boys as his brothers, but Matthias didn’t believe that. He was the biggest, the strongest, the fastest. He didn’t need to be popular to survive.
He’d ridden in the back of the sled for the entirety of the journey, huddled in his furs, speaking to no one, and when they’d finally arrived at the Ring of Stones, he’d hung back, unsure of himself as the other drüskelle bolted into the big barn, yelling and shoving one another, each of them diving for the pile of wriggling white wolf pups with their ice-chip eyes.
The truth was that he wanted a wolf pup desperately, but he knew there might not be enough for all of them. It was up to the breeder which boy was paired with each pup and who went home empty-handed. Many of the boys were already talking to the old woman, attempting to charm her.
“You see? This one likes me.”
“Look! Look! I got her to sit!”
Matthias knew he should try to be personable, make some kind of effort, but instead he found himself drawn to the kennels in the back of the barn. In the corner, in a wire cage, he caught a yellow flash—light reflecting off a pair of wary eyes. He drew closer and saw a wolf, a pup no longer, but not yet full grown. He growled as Matthias drew closer to the cage, hackles raised, head lowered, teeth bared. The young wolf had a long scar across his muzzle. It had cut across his right eye and changed part of the iris from blue to mottled brown.
“Don’t want no business with that one,” said the breeder.
Matthias didn’t know when she’d snuck up behind him. “Can he see?”
“He can, but he don’t like people.”
“Why not?”
“He got out when he was still a pup. Made it across two miles of ice fields. Kid found him and cut him up with a broken bottle. Won’t let no one near him since, and he’s getting too old to train. Probably have to put him down soon.”
“Let me take him.”
“He’d just as soon tear you to bits as let you feed him, boy. We’ll have a pup for you next time.”
As soon as the woman walked away, Matthias opened the cage. And just as fast, the wolf lunged forward and bit him.
Matthias wanted to scream as the wolf’s teeth sank into his forearm. He toppled to the ground, the wolf on top of him, the pain beyond anything he’d ever known. But he did not make a sound. He held the wolf’s gaze as its teeth sank more deeply into the muscle of his arm, a growl rumbling through the animal’s chest.
Matthias suspected that the wolf’s jaws were strong enough to break bone, but he did not struggle, did not cry out, did not drop his gaze. I won’t hurt you, he swore, even if you hurt me.
A long moment passed, and then another. Matthias could feel blood soaking through his sleeve. He thought he might lose consciousness.
Then, slowly, the wolf’s jaws released. The animal sat back, the white fur of his muzzle coated in Matthias’ blood, head tilted to one side. The wolf released a huff of breath.
“Nice to meet you too,” said Matthias.
He sat up cautiously, bandaged his arm with the bottom of his shirt, and then he and his wolf, both covered in blood, walked back to where the others were playing in a pile of wolf pups and gray uniforms.
“This one’s mine,” he said as they all turned to stare, and the old woman shook her head. Then Matthias passed out.
That night, on the ship, Matthias had told Nina about Trassel, his fierce nature, his ragged scar. Eventually, she had dozed and Matthias had let himself shut his eyes. The ice was waiting. The killing wind came with white teeth, the wolves howled in the distance, and Nina cried out, but Matthias could not go to her.
The dream had come every night since. It was hard not to see it as some kind of omen, and when Nina had casually dropped that yellow pill into her pocket, it had been like watching the storm come on: the roar of the wind filling his ears, the cold burrowing into his bones, the certainty that he was going to lose her.
“Parem might not work on you anymore,” he said now. They’d finally reached the deserted canal where they’d moored the gondel.
“What?”
“Your power has changed, hasn’t it?”
Nina’s footsteps faltered. “Yes.”
“Because of the parem?”
Now Nina stopped. “Why are you asking me this?”
He didn’t want to ask her. He wanted to kiss her again. But he said, “If you were captured, the Shu might not be able to use the drug to enslave you.”
“Or it could be just as bad as before.”
“That pill, the poison Tamar gave you—”
Nina laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not going to be captured, Matthias.”
“But if you were—”
“I don’t know what the parem did to me. I have to believe the effects will wear off in time.”
“And if they don’t?”
“They have to,” she said, brow furrowed. “I can’t live like this. It’s like … being only half of myself. Although…”
“Although?” he urged.
“The craving isn’t quite so bad right now,” she said as if realizing it herself. “In fact, I’ve barely thought of parem since the fight at the tavern.”
“Using this new power helped?”
“Maybe,” she said cautiously. “And—” She frowned. Matthias heard a low, curling growl.
“Was that your stomach?”
“It was.” Nina’s face split in a dazzling grin. “Matthias, I’m famished.”
Could she truly be healing at last? Or had what she’d done at the tavern returned her appetite to her? He didn’t care. He was just glad she was smiling that way. He picked her up and spun her in the air.
“You’re going to strain something if you keep doing that,” she said with another radiant smile.
“You’re light as a feather.”
“I do not want to see that bird. Now let’s go get me a stack of waffles twice as tall as you. I—”
She broke off, the color draining from her face. “Oh, Saints.”
Matthias followed her gaze over his shoulder and found himself looking into his own eyes. A poster had been plastered to the wall, emblazoned with a scarily accurate sketch of his face. Above and beside the illustration, written in several different languages, was a single word: WANTED.
Nina snatched the poster from the wall. “You were supposed to be dead.”
“Someone must have asked to see Muzzen’s body before it was burned.” Maybe the Fjerdans. Maybe just someone at the prison. There were more words printed at the bottom in Kerch that Matthias couldn’t read, but he understood his own name and the number well enough. “Fifty thousand kruge. They’re offering a reward for my capture.”
“No,” Nina said. She pointed to the text beneath the large number and translated, “Wanted: Matthias Helvar. Dead or alive. They’ve put a price on your hea
d.”
16
JESPER
When Nina and Matthias came charging into the tomb, Jesper wanted to leap up from the table and waltz with them both. He’d spent the last hour trying to explain to Kuwei how they would reach the embassy, and he was starting to get the distinct impression the kid was playing dumb—possibly because he was enjoying the ridiculous gestures Jesper was making.
“Could you repeat the last part?” Kuwei said now, leaning in a little too close.
“Nina,” Jesper said. “Can you help facilitate this exchange?”
“Thank the Saints,” said Inej, leaving off her work at the table with Wylan and Kaz. They were assembling the mass of wires and gear Kaz had stolen from the Cirkus Zirkoa. Wylan had spent the last two hours making modifications to ensure Inej’s safety at the silos, attaching magnetized clamps that would grip their metal sides.
“Why do you keep staring at him?” Kuwei said. “I look just like him. You could look at me.”
“I’m not staring at him,” protested Jesper. “I’m … overseeing their work.” The sooner Kuwei got on that boat, the better. The tomb was starting to feel crowded.
“Did you manage to contact the refugees?” Inej asked, waving Nina over to the table and clearing a place for her to sit.
“Everything went smoothly,” said Nina. “Aside from breaking a few windows and nearly getting shot.”
