Emma

“Fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I'm going to get Wylan's ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost."
Brekkers lips quirked. "I'll just hire Matthias' ghost to kick your ghost's ass."
"My ghost won't associate with your ghost," Matthias said primly, and then wondered if the sea air was rotting his brain.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“She raised the long glass and peered back down at the harbor, at the passengers disembarking, but the image was blurry. Reluctantly, she released his hand. It felt like a promise, and she didn’t want to let go. She adjusted the lens, and her gaze caught on two figures moving down the gangplank. Their steps were graceful, their posture straight as knife blades. They moved like Suli acrobats.

She drew in a sharp breath. Everything in her focused like the lens of the long glass. Her mind refused the image before her. This could not be real. It was an illusion, a false reflection, a lie made in rainbow-hued glass. She would breathe again and it would shatter.

She reached for Kaz’s sleeve. She was going to fall. He had his arm around her, holding her up. Her mind split. Half of her was aware of his bare fingers on her sleeve, his dilated pupils, the brace of his body around hers. The other half was still trying to understand what she was seeing.

His dark brows knitted together. “I wasn’t sure. Should I not have—”

She could barely hear him over the clamor in her heart. “How?” she said, her voice raw and strange with unshed tears. “How did you find them?”

“A favor, from Sturmhond. He sent out scouts. As part of our deal. If it was a mistake—”

“No,” she said as the tears spilled over at last. “It was not a mistake.”

“Of course, if something had gone wrong during the job, they’d be coming to retrieve your corpse.”

Inej choked out a laugh. “Just let me have this.” She righted herself, her balance returning. Had she really thought the world didn’t change? She was a fool. The world was made of miracles, unexpected earthquakes, storms that came from nowhere and might reshape a continent. The boy beside her. The future before her. Anything was possible.

Now Inej was shaking, her hands pressed to her mouth, watching them move up the dock toward the quay. She started forward, then turned back to Kaz. “Come with me,” she said. “Come meet them.”

Kaz nodded as if steeling himself, flexed his fingers once more.

“Wait,” he said. The burn of his voice was rougher than usual. “Is my tie straight?”

Inej laughed, her hood falling back from her hair.

“That’s the laugh,” he murmured, but she was already setting off down the quay, her feet barely touching the ground.

“Mama!” she called out. “Papa!”

Inej saw them turn, saw her mother grip her father’s arm. They were running toward her.

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“She was Inej Ghafa, and she would not quiver like a rabbit in a snare.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“It would have been easy enough to turn away when they called her names or sidled up to ask for a cuddle, but do that and soon it was a hand up your blouse or a try at you against a wall. So she'd let no insult or innuendo slide. She'd always struck first and struck hard. Sometimes she even cut them up a bit. It was fatiguing, 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.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows