Extraits

- Viens, allons voler tout l'argent de mon père.

- C'est pas ton argent ?

- Ta raison, allons le récupérer.

- Ma mère, c'est Ketterdam. Elle m'a enfanté dans le port. Mon père, c'est le profit. Je l'honore tous les jours. Revenez avant la tombée de la nuit ou ne revenez jamais. Tous les deux. J'ai besoin de coéquipiers, pas de sentimentaux.

Il étudia le visage des gens aux côtés desquels il s'était battu, il avait saigné. Il leur avait menti, ils lui avaient menti. Il les avait conduits en enfer pour les en tirer ensuite.

[...] la peur est un phénix. Tu peut la regarder se consumer un millier de fois, et pourtant, ça ne l'empêche pas de revenir.

- [...] S'il te plaît, parle-moi encore des jeunes filles fjerdans.

- Elles parlent doucement. Elles ne flirtent pas impunément avec tous les hommes qu'elles croisent.

- Je flirte avec les femmes aussi.

- J'imagine que tu flirterais avec un palmier si tu pensais qu'il pourrait s'intéresser à toi.

J'imagine que tu flirterais avec un palmier si tu pensais qu'il pourrait s’intéresser à toi.

Wylan summoned every bit of bravado he’d learned from Nina, the will he’d learned from Matthias, the focus he’d studied in Kaz, the courage he’d learned from Inej, and the wild, reckless hope he’d learned from Jesper, the belief that no matter the odds, somehow they would win. “I won’t talk,” he said.

The first punch shattered two of his ribs. The second had him coughing blood.

“Maybe we should snap your fingers so you can’t play that infernal flute,” Van Eck suggested.

I’m here for her, Wylan reminded himself. I’m here for her.

In the end, he was not Nina or Matthias or Kaz or Inej or Jesper. He was just Wylan Van Eck. He told them everything.

That was when he saw Kuwei standing in the doorway, mouth open, eyes wide and shocked.

“What?” Jesper asked. “Do the Shu not kiss before noon?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kuwei said sourly.

Not Kuwei.

“Oh, Saints,” Jesper groaned. That wasn’t Kuwei in the doorway. It was Wylan Van Eck, budding demolitions expert and wayward rich kid. And that meant he’d just kissed …

The real Kuwei plunked that same listless note on the piano, grinning shamelessly up at him through thick black lashes.

Jesper turned back to the door. “Wylan—” he began

He watched that pulse, the evidence of her heart, matching his own beat for anxious beat. He saw the damp curve of her neck, the gleam of her brown skin. He wanted to … He wanted.

Before he even knew what he intended, he lowered his head. She drew in a sharp breath. His lips hovered just above the warm juncture between her shoulder and the column of her neck. He waited. Tell me to stop. Push me away.

She exhaled. “Go on,” she repeated. Finish the story. The barest movement and his lips brushed her skin—warm, smooth, beaded with moisture. Desire coursed through him, a thousand images he’d hoarded, barely let himself imagine—the fall of her dark hair freed from its braid, his hand fitted to the lithe curve of her waist, her lips parted, whispering his name.

“The first day you showed up at my house for this proper courtship, I would have cornered you in the pantry,” she said. “But please, tell me more about Fjerdan girls.”

“They speak quietly. They don’t engage in flirtations with every single man they meet.”

“I flirt with the women too.”

“I think you’d flirt with a date palm if it would pay you any attention.”

“If I flirted with a plant, you can bet it would stand up and take notice. Are you jealous?”

“All the time.”

“I’m glad. What are you looking at, Matthias?” The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. “Nothing.”

“Matthias, are you praying?”

“Possibly.”

“For restraint?” she said sweetly.

“You really are a witch.”

“I’m not proper, Matthias.”

“I am aware of this.” Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.