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It was no secret that Ketterdam was the cesspool of Kerch. If you weren’t escaping the gangs that ruled the underbelly of the Barrel, you suffered the inane and obstructive laws erected by the Merchant’s Council. Neither were the worst of what you can stumble upon in the dreary city. No, you needed to be afraid of the pockets of magic that littered the damp streets and alleyway, pockets where unwise and unobservant people could slip through, none the wiser. Where they could slip into and never find their way back home.
Kerch records ignored the disappearances. The city was filled with transient people. Vacationers. Travelers. Homeless. Then there were the locals. The ones who stayed inside, only rumored to actually exist. Locals who traveled too often to really be locals. Which still neglected to mention the prisoners who bounced between Hellgate and the other jails across Kerch and the rest of the world.
Inej Ghafa knew the truth.
It was Fae that haunted the darkest corners of Ketterdam. Fae, Faeries, Fe, Fada, Zana, Peri, Víla, Fee–whatever you called them–they were dangerous, mythical creatures who could only be repelled by a strong will and good iron.
And if there was one thing that the Ghafa family had an abundance of when they set up camp, it was good iron.
She grew up listening to her father and uncle weave tales of the fae in the dark glow of the caravan after the oldest members of her family had ended their performances. She would cluck her tongue, wise as an owl at the young age of four, and shake her head at the stories of the foolish people who had been tricked, who had been killed, by the fae. If one thing was certain, she would never be deceived by a fae for as long as she lived. Ghafas were strong-willed, resilient, and were never lost. No, she was sure she would never fall into a faerie’s trap.
Which was why when Inej Ghafa was stolen from her bed and found herself in the hull of a slaver’s boat headed to Ketterdam when she was fourteen–she took great care to hide the iron necklace her mother had given to her when she was old enough not to lose such things.
Her diligence, hiding it between the crevices of her clothes and limbs to keep it out of sight from the girls around her, was wasted as soon as she was brought to shore. The men who had ripped her from her bed, now stripped her of her clothes. A woman who called herself Tante Heleen had easily plucked the knob of iron from the folds of Inej’s clothes.
“Suli Iron,” Heleen had sneered, tucking it into the front of her shirt. “Don’t cry little Lynx. I have better Iron to protect you from the fae lurking in this city. There isn’t a faerie in this city stupid enough to touch one of my girls. Consider yourself lucky.”
Better Iron, Inej learned, was all a matter of subjectivity. A terrible lesson to learn tonight of all nights, when she was trying to make her escape from the Menagerie. It was going to be successful this time. She’d made it past the guards in the middle of a shift change, which was the hardest part. And even though they quickly noticed her absence–she thought if she was quick enough, smart enough, then the cheap hunk of Iron Heleen had given her would be good enough to protect her. Except, much like everything else Heleen had told her when Inej had first arrived, the smooth line of “iron” that hung between her breasts was a lie. Probably nothing more than cleverly painted tin.
The discovery didn’t surprise her as much as it should have. The first hint was that Heleen’s new necklace weighed less than her older, smaller necklace, a fact that brought Inej no comfort in the mornings when she was finally allowed to rest. The second hint was that one moment Inej was ducking down an alley to avoid the bouncer on her tail, and the next she found herself in a place that was not Ketterdam or any other place she’d ever been.
What had been rain-slick cobblestones had melted into a dry, warm room made of wood. A fire crackled somewhere behind her, though Inej wouldn’t be surprised if the fire was nothing but an auditory illusion. While she knew that she knew nothing about how the richer populace of the city maintained their homes, this place wasn’t filled with the same pomp and posturing that she came to associate with the Merchants. Wherever she was now didn’t have a hint of Ketterdam’s scent. Instead, the air was thick with the smell of coffee and an undercurrent of something sweet that made Inej want to swallow deep breaths to wash out the stink of the harbor and rain.
And in the center of the scene…
In the stories Inej remembered, the fae were said to look ethereal. Horrifying. Beautiful. Faces so irresistible that a mere mortal would be willing to sacrifice their freedom. They sat upon wickedly opulent thrones that allegedly rivaled that of the King of Ravka. After all, it was easier to command power when it looked like you had the conquests to back up your bravado.
The man that sat in front of her, perched neatly on what appeared to be a plain desk chair, was devastatingly average. Sure, perhaps in mortal terms, he might be considered attractive. This man–boy? Inej couldn’t determine his age, though she supposed that fae could change their appearance at whim, so perhaps it didn’t even matter–had strikingly pale skin that seemed to reflect the moonlight despite their position inside, with scars that disrupted the symmetry of his face enough to ensure his countenance wasn’t too perfect. Perhaps the most striking thing about him, Inej decided, was his eyes.
In the warm light of the room, they glowed with the bronze warmth of the tea Inej’s mother made in the mornings. Even thinking of it now, miles and miles from home, she could almost taste her mother’s preferred blend of tea and spices.
“You don’t look too much like a faerie,” Inej blurted, the words spilling from her mouth before she could put thought into the accusation. There was nothing else that this man could be. Not unless she never made her escape, and this was all just a dream. Please be more than a dream. She had to have made it out of there.
The man let out a small puff of air that she dared to qualify as a laugh.
At that moment, Inej could barely remember the rules her family had taught her if she were to ever cross a fae in real life. Her thoughts had instead been replaced with the thick, hazy fog that unfurled from the man in front of her. It tasted like spun sugar. “You are a faerie, right?”
He shrugged a single shoulder. “That is a name that people use for those like me,” he relented, his voice clear despite the rasp that clung to his words. “You may use it, if you would like.”
Brows furrowing, Inej felt herself take one step toward him. Two. She couldn’t tell if it was her own interest, or his manipulation. She didn’t know if it mattered. “Would you prefer me to call you something else?”
The corner of his mouth curled into what could only be described as the vague approximation of a smile. Almost human. Or it would be if he had allowed the amusement to reach his eyes. “I suppose I prefer to think of myself as a businessman.”
Business men, she knew. Inej looked at him again, watching as his all-black outfit unfurled to reveal a Mercher’s neatly-pressed suit. Like he had walked right out of Ketterdam with her. Except he didn’t look at her like the other businessmen did, with appraising eyes darkened with lust. This fae, this business man, wanted something else. Not her. Even though she stood in front of him wearing nothing more than the cheap costume Heleen made her wear every night. Thank the Saints for small victories.
“What are you in the business of?” she asked.
Rubbing a hand over his chin, he leaned back in his chair. “I am in the business of secrets. Or at least, secrets are a part of my business. But they happen to be the most relevant part for our discussion tonight.”
“Are they?”
“You see, I am looking for a thief,” he drawled. “Someone who steals secrets.”
Her heart leaped in her chest, and Inej found herself stepping back. As if that would help with her situation. The only way she was getting out of this place was when this Fae was done with her. If he was ever done with her. “I haven’t stolen anything,” she said quickly.
“Relax.”
The word fell from his lips, and once again the thick smoke from earlier started to fill the room. Spun sugar, Inej noted. Spun sugar and the taste of her mother’s tea. Her limbs loosened and she found her body physically reacting to his command, despite the chaos in her head.
“You have not stolen anything. Yet.” The fae sat up straight in his desk chair, and he folded his hands in his lap. “I believe you can, though. You are exactly the type of person I have been searching for. I would like to offer you a job.”
“And what type of person would that be?” Inej snapped. The words were thick on her tongue, like her body was rejecting her anger. “I’m not a seer or whatever it is you have mistaken me for. Ketterdam has prostituted me, and the only secrets I keep are what merchants are most likely to strike me if I don’t perform to their satisfaction.”
“You’d be surprised what kind of information I find interesting,” he drawled. “Except I have no interest in what Ketterdam has made for you. I care only about the version of yourself that you have presented to me by entering this place. You stumbled in here quiet as a ghost, all while dripping with bells.” The faerie smiled and Inej shivered. “That is the kind of skill I value.”
Inej faltered. The spell had lifted and she regained feeling in her limbs, and she lifted an arm. The bells sewn into the edges of the cheap silks Heleen forced her to wear clashed with the realm’s silence. Inej shrugged in a cascade of bells. “Magic,” she offered weakly. She had simply entered this space in the same way she entered every place she had to occupy: noiselessly. In a place like the Menagerie, the last thing she wanted was to draw anybody’s attention. So she didn’t. Except, now her skill had drawn the attention of this fae. It felt significantly less dangerous than piquing Tante Heleen’s curiosity.
“I would not waste magic on something you can clearly do without assistance.”
He took a sip from the clear glass goblet in his left hand. The liquid illuminated a dark amber, and Inej couldn’t be sure if he drank coffee or some dark liquor. Though as she tried to take a discreet sniff, perhaps it was even a bit of both.
As if he could sense her wandering thoughts, the faerie covered the opening of his cup with a gloved hand. “I hope you understand that I don’t have anything prepared for you.” He spoke, and Inej’s attention jumped away from the glass to settle on the movement of his lips. “It’s in your best interest, anyway.”
She found herself nodding even as she remembered the stories about how the fae used food to trap mortals. He could have easily offered her a drink and gotten this whole charade over with. Instead, he offered her a job. A job, and he didn’t immediately try to trap her here with him.
Alarms rang clear through her head. The fae are known to trick the naive. Trap girls like Inej who simply wanted to escape. But the younger version of herself that knew that making a deal with the fae only led to certain death did not know life in the way Inej knew it now, filled with despair and disassociation. That version of herself had been left in Ravka and never had to learn about all the intricacies of wanting to be dead while knowing that her death was exactly what the world wanted.
“Is this… Is this a trick?” Her voice dropped as her memories of the past few months at the Menagerie pulsated at the edges of her brain. She could not afford to believe another lie. She knew all too well about the jobs men wanted to give girls like her.
“You found me, darling,” he rasped. “I’m not the type to draw people into my realm on a whim. You were lost and looking for purpose.” He held his arms open. “I am willing to give you one.”
Maybe one day someone in her family, a Ghafa she doesn’t even know, will tell the tale of the foolish Inej who had trusted a fae to sweep her out of the cruel hand she had been dealt. On the bright side, in this version of her story, people would believe that she was able to hold onto any sort of naivety after everything else had been stripped away. She should ask what she gets out of this deal that he was offering her, but she had tunnel visit. It didn’t matter what he had to offer. She knew exactly what she won from this agreement. She got away from Heleen.
At least if she dies now, it wasn’t at the hand of Tante Heleen or any of her despicable clientele.
“All right,” Inej said finally. “I’ll do it.”
The faerie sat up straight in his chair and a smile flashed across his coffee brown eyes, though his face betrayed no such pleasure. “Excellent. We can handle the specifics in a few, but if you want to–”
“Do I have to sign somewhere? Offer my first born? A tattoo?” She held out her right wrist, branded with the thick black lines of the Menagerie’s tattoo. “Whatever you want, I don’t mind. I’m not afraid of needles.”
The man’s eyes dropped to her tattoo and his jaw clenched. He leaned forward, one hand resting on the top of his cane to keep himself steady. His other hand inched closer to Inej, his gloved fingers spread wide. Inej tried to to still her breathing and resist the urge to flinch away.
He didn’t touch her like she feared he would. Thank the Saints.
Instead, he waved his hand over her arm and a warm gust of air wrapped around Inej like a jug. She gasped and held her breath as the ink floated from her skin and buried itself into the fae’s leather gloves. His presence lingered for a moment before pulling away to reveal the unmarred skin of her wrist. It was an image she never thought she’d be able to see again in her lifetime. Saints, she had been half convinced that this mark would follow her into the next life.
“Consider this a sign of my gratitude,” he said, his words caught low in his throat. His eyes still stared at the now clear skin of her arm, his hand winding itself into a fist before he retreated fully. “No more, no less. You can leave at any time. You can leave this job when you find a new purpose. I am not–” He met her eyes now, and his pupils were blown so wide that she could hardly see the irises. “I am not trying to capture you. This is nothing more than a business deal.”
Inej retracted her arm and cradled it to her chest. She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but she swore she could still feel the warmth of his magic against her skin. “Right,” she breathed. “Well, then, if we’re going to be working together, am I allowed to ask about your name?”
“My name is Kaz,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Kaz Brekker. And may I have yours?”
A shock of electricity ran up her spine and she remembered. “You may not have my name, but you are allowed to learn it.” She stood up straight, as if she was ready to start a performance. “I am Inej Ghafa.”
“Very clever, Miss Ghafa. Be sure to take good care of that name of yours; it’s a good one.” He smiled for real this time and Inej regretted thinking of how much she liked the sound of her name from Kaz’s mouth. He nodded to the space behind her and all of a sudden the cold, damp breeze of Ketterdam was against her back. She was free to go. Just as he promised. “You should look for a friend of mine in the city. Jesper Fahey. He’ll be making a ruckus for me somewhere in the Barrel, but he will find a space for you. Get you situated in a space that belongs only to you.”
She nodded. “Th–Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. He offered her a job and a place to rest her head? Was she positive this wasn’t a dream?
“Don’t thank me yet,” Kaz said. “Fahey talks a lot. You’ll grow to get used to it, or learn to ignore him.”
“Understood.” She fidgeted, but couldn’t bring herself to leave quite yet. “How will I be able to–how does all this work?”
“That’s all part of the game, isn’t it, darling? You’ll find out in due time.” Kaz waved his hand. “Now get a move on. You’re letting the damned cold air in.”
“Right.”
Still, she hesitated a moment longer. She didn’t know the etiquette regarding leaving a fae’s realm. The stories only spoke of the humans lost to time when they entered. She waved awkwardly, making the bells ring obnoxiously through the night. So much for becoming a silent ghost. She stepped back, and kept her eyes glued to Kaz’s watchful gaze.
Only a few more steps and she was back in Ketterdam. She waited for the cold to wrap around her again and snap her out of the memory of the magic she encountered. But it never came. The fake silks and bells had been magicked out of existence and she found herself swaddled in thick wool socks, pants, and a quilted vest that fit as if it had been sewn just for her.
Inej whipped back to stare at the space she emerged from. There was no trace of Kaz’s realm, only one of Ketterdam’s many dreary wet alleyways. How? Her hands glazed over the new clothes, before settling on a familiar line beneath her new linen top. No. She tugged Heleen’s necklace free from the collar, except what she retrieved wasn’t Heleen’s lump of fake ore. It was the same Iron necklace Inej’s mother had given her all those years again.
Saints.
No. Kaz. A faerie. The thought felt sacrilegious.
“The deal is the deal.” Kaz’s voice brushed against her ear. There one moment, gone the next. Inej sighed and took a deep, calming breath.
His magic left the taste of sugar and coffee on her tongue.