Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo Page B

voice from beneath the nearest table.
    A pretty blonde girl looked up from where she was crouched on the floor.
    â€œMadeleine?” Jesper said. “Madeleine Michaud?”
    â€œYou said we’d have breakfast!”
    â€œI had to go to Fjerda.”
    â€œFjerda?”
    Jesper headed up the stairs after Wylan, then poked his head back into the reading room. “If I live, I’ll buy you waffles.”
    â€œYou don’t have enough money to buy her waffles,” Wylan grumbled.
    â€œBe quiet. We’re in a library.”
    Jesper had never had cause to enter the rare books room while he was at school. The silence was so deep it was like being underwater. Illuminated manuscripts were displayed in glass cases lit by golden falls of lamplight, and rare maps covered the walls.
    A Squaller in a blue kefta stood in the corner, arms raised, but shrank back as they entered.
    â€œShu!” the Squaller cried when he saw Wylan. “I won’t go with you. I’ll kill myself first!”
    Jesper’s father held up his hands as if gentling a horse. “Easy, lad.”
    â€œWe’re just passing through,” said Jesper, giving his father another push.
    â€œFollow me,” said Wylan.
    â€œWhat is a Squaller doing in the rare books room?” Jesper asked as they raced through the labyrinth of shelves and cases, past the occasional scholar or student crouched against the books in fear.
    â€œHumidity. He keeps the air dry to preserve the manuscripts.”
    â€œNice work if you can get it.”
    When they reached the westernmost wall, Wylan stopped in front of a map of Ravka. He looked around to make sure they weren’t being observed, then pressed the symbol marking the capital—Os Alta. The country seemed to tear apart along the seam of the Unsea, revealing a dark gap barely wide enough to squeeze through.
    â€œIt leads to the second floor of a printmaker’s shop,” said Wylan as they edged inside. “It was built as a way for professors to get from the library to their homes without having to deal with angry students.”
    â€œAngry?” Jesper’s father said. “Do all the students have guns?”
    â€œNo, but there’s a long-standing tradition of rioting over grades.”
    The map slid closed, leaving them in the dark as they shuffled along sideways.
    â€œNot to be a podge,” Jesper murmured to Wylan, “but I wouldn’t have thought you’d know your way around the rare books room.”
    â€œI used to meet with one of my tutors here, back when my father still thought … The tutor had a lot of interesting stories. And I always liked the maps. Tracing the letters sometimes made it easier to … It’s how I found the passage.”
    â€œYou know, Wylan, one of these days I’m going to stop underestimating you.”
    There was a brief pause and then, from somewhere up ahead, he heard Wylan say, “Then you’re going to be a lot harder to surprise.”
    Jesper grinned, but it didn’t quite feel right. From behind them, he could hear shouting from the rare books room. It had been a close call, he was bleeding from his shoulder, they’d made a grand escape—these were the moments he lived for. He should be buzzing from the excitement of the fight. The thrill was still there, fizzing through his blood, but beside it was a cold, unfamiliar sensation that felt like it was draining the joy from him. All he could think was, Da could have been hurt. He could have died. Jesper was used to people shooting at him. He would have been a little insulted if they’d stopped shooting at him. This was different. His father hadn’t chosen this fight. His only crime had been putting his faith in his son.
    That’s the problem with Ketterdam , Jesper thought as they stumbled uncertainly through the dark. Trusting the wrong person can get you killed .

 
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    N INA
    Nina couldn’t