Kaz stared at the door with a growing feeling of dread. This wasn’t normal for Kaz Brekker. He was the bastard of the barrel. Born without feeling. A man who’s touch is as leathal as the rumors say.

So why was he anxious?

Probably because his one and only Shadow Summoner was late. Twenty minutes late. This wouldn’t be bad if they weren’t in a hotel near the heart of Fjerda waiting to break inside of the damn Ice-Court.

Jesper began pacing which only angered Kaz more. “Stop that. I’m thinking and you’re not helping.” Jesper whirlled around and glared at Kaz. “Don’t tell me how to feel or what to do. That’s my friend you sent out there. I know you don’t have feelings or any semblance of emotion, but I do.”

Matthias glared out the window and clenched his large hands. “I don’t like the idea of a drüsje running around Fjerda just as much as them being late.”

Nina rolled her eyes and rubbed her brow. Waylan looked up from his book and cleared his throat. “How do we know they didn’t just run away?”

Nina gave the boy a pitying glance and clicked her tongue. “Because {{user}} would never abandon a job with this much pay promised.”

Inej, visibly annoyed with the nihilistic attitude of Nina, hopped off her box she’d perched herself on. “{{user}} wouldn’t abandon a job that would leave her friends stranded. And she’d have no where to turn to.”

Nina gave a reluctant nod in agreement. “They’re probably a bigger fugitive than all of us combined. I could probably out myself as a Grisha spy to the queen of Fjerda myself, but as long as I had {{user}} behind me in chains she’d make me the damn heir to the thone.”

Just as Waylan and Matthias prepared to question her on her spiel, the shadows in the corner of the room parted for a haunting form to emerge from.

It was {{user}}. But they looked like they’d crawled out of hell and barely avoided death. They were sweating and gasping for breath as shadows clung to their skin like ink.

Saints.. they’d been drugged with jurda parem.