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🎵🎵🎵

I had a dream
I got everything I wanted
Not what you'd think
And if I'm being honest
It might've been a nightmare
To anyone who might care
Thought I could fly (fly)
So I stepped off the Golden, hmm
Nobody cried
Nobody even noticed
I saw them standing right there
Kinda thought they might care
I had a dream
I got everything I wanted
But when I wake up, I see
You with me
And you say
"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"
Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to
If I could change the way that you see yourself
You wouldn't wonder why here
They don't deserve you
I tried to scream
But my head was underwater
They called me weak
Like I'm not just somebody's daughter
Could've been a nightmare
But it felt like they were right there
And it feels like yesterday was a year ago
But I don't wanna let anybody know
'Cause everybody wants something from me now
And I don't wanna let 'em down
I had a dream
I got everything I wanted
But when I wake up, I see
You with me
And you say
As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you
Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to
If I could change the way that you see yourself
You wouldn't wonder why here
They don't deserve you
If I knew it all then, would I do it again?
Would I do it again?
If they knew what they said would go straight to my head
What would they say instead?
If I knew it all then, would I do it again?
Would I do it again?
If they knew what they said would go straight to my head
What would they say instead?

🎵🎵🎵

The breeze had been calm and among the mansions of the Geldstraat, the full moon looked like a jewel. It was a beautiful night but Aeolian was exhausted, she longed for the comfort of her bed. She glanced at her reflection on the double doors as she styled her hair in a five strand braid. She was in dire need of a large mug of bitter coffee. Make that two, she yawned.

These few months in Ketterdam had been confusing for her. Juggling her life with the barrel gang, while trying to find her way in life and faking her death. But she considered herself lucky to be working at a merch house. Not just any merch; Councilman Hoede was about as high placed in Ketterdam government as a man could be. The kind of man who could make or break a career.

She liked Hoede's house. He had one of the grandest mansions on the Geldstraat—floors set with gleaming squares of black and white stone, shining dark wood walls lit by blown-glass chandeliers. Sometimes she liked to pretend that she was back in Shu Han, at the Grand Taban Palace just out for a stroll through its fine garden.

As her hair was done, she made her way to the Grisha workshop. She always stops by the workshop, it fascinates her to see Grisha at work. This workshop was a testimony to Hoede's wealth. Grisha indentures didn't come cheap, and Hoede had three of them: Yuri a fabrikator, Retvenko a squaller and Anya a healer. Tonight, Anya was not on sight.

Retvenko, sprawled out on a chair, eyes shut, a book open on his chest. There were rumours he'd fought for the losing side in Ravka's civil war and had fled to Kerch after the fighting.

She glanced at the bowls of red grapes and heaps of burgundy velvet on the worktable. Yuri had been working on bleeding colour from the fruit into the curtains for Mistress Hoede. Yuri was not a talker and he kept everything to himself.

Retvenko slowly opened his eyes. "You bring news from the merch?"

Aeolian pulled out the tiny notebook from her pocket, "I haven't met him today..." she flipped through the pages, "but...there's a trip tomorrow."

Retvenko was Hoede's personal Squaller and often travelled with the merchant's most precious cargos, guaranteeing favourable winds to bring the ships safely and quickly to harbour.

"Miss Lin," Someone called. It was Rutger he was one among the house guards, private servants of Councilman Hoede. He wore Hoede's pale green livery, and carried a fancy rifle from Novyi Zem. "Councilman Hoede is asking for you."

Aeolian gave him a nod and then waved at Retvenko. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the Grisha waved back.

As they made their way towards Hoede's study. Rutger said. "Grisha are not friends. They're servants."

"You have no business talking about them that way. And they aren't Hoede's servants; they are his treasured possessions." She said over her shoulder, "know your place Rutger."

When Aeolian entered Hoede's study, Kaz Brekker had been waiting, dressed in darkest grey, leaning on his crow's head cane. She became anxious. What's the bastard of the barrel doing at her workplace? This was a first.

Hoede leaned back on his fancy chair. "Miss Lin, do you know mister Brekker?"

Before Aeolian could speak. Kaz had said, "of course she does. People like you and I are hard to miss."

"I deal in commerce and you're a thief," Hoede said. "We're nothing alike."

"When a man loses his money, he may have trouble telling them apart." Kaz said smoothly.

"The Barrel is a den of filth, vice, violence__" Hoede muttered.

"One out of every five vessels you send seeking coffee and jurda sinks to the bottom of the sea, falls prey to pirates. One out of five crews dead. Let's not speak of violence." Kaz said.

"I won't argue ethics with a stripling from the Barrel." Hoede was annoyed.

Aeolian was still puzzling over why Dirtyhands was here. And why she was called. She cut in, "since you gentlemen are not here to philosophise, what business?"

Hoede turned to her. "Ah," he flicked an invisible dust from his lapel. "I have a proposition..."

Aeolian hid her surprise. What does a councilman like Hoede had anything to do with her and Kaz.

"What possible use would a Councilman have for a thief like me?" Kaz asked.

Hoede thumbed through the papers in his hand. "I belief you're the one they call Dirtyhands because there's no sin you'd commit for the right price."

"Indeed I am," Kaz almost smiled.

Hoede gave Kaz an irritable look, but his gaze lighten when it landed on Aeolian. "And you...you're not any spider but you're working with Brekker."

Aeolian wasn't surprised that Hoede had found out about her connection with the Dregs but with that knowledge came an uneasiness: what if the councilman fire her for associating with thieves? She liked her job here, she didn't want to be fired.

It was like Kaz saw the uneasiness on her face because the next thing he said was, "I don't care who you are or how big your mansion is. Choose your next words carefully Hoede."

Hoede looked intimidated but he tried his best to hide it. He cleared his throat, "ever since the assassination of the ambassador at the town hall, we're all worried about how secure our own security system is...and one of you being a spider and the other being a thief. I'd like you both to examine the property, see if it's secure enough."

Kaz stared at Hoede for a moment, he almost laughed. "You want a thief to tell you, if your mansion is secure enough."

Hoede crossed his arms. "Because only a thief sees what the others cannot." Then he turned to Aeolian. "And I want you to keep an eye on him, you might have your occasional runs with thugs but we made a deal and I know you'll abide by it."

Like every contract in Ketterdam, Aeolian's deal with Hoede was that: she works for him and she'll not steal or provide information about Hoede to others. There would be a penalty if she did. He was a councilman, and in Ketterdam crossing a councilman is like choosing your own death sentence. But Aeolian had that gut feeling that there was more to the story.

"Come on now," Hoede said. "Get to work."

They left the study and strolled around the property, two of Hoede's guards trailing behind them.

"Something doesn't feel right," Aeolian told Kaz.

"Didn't think I noticed?" He arched a brow.

Aeolian looked up at the mansion before them, she didn't know what's really on Hoede's mind but she didn't want to lose this job, it was the best job anyone from the barrel could have.

"Don't worry," Kaz said. "The old man will keep you, he seems to have a liking for Shu girls."

Aeolian squinted. "Is that too bad?"

"It is," he nodded. "He's old enough to be your grandfather."

She let out a chuckle. "You scared, I'd leave the gang and become a mistress to a rich man instead?"

"That's the least of my concern," he said. "I know you moonlight, you maybe a handful but you're not like other girls."

Kaz knew her just a little more than he should. She huffed, "shall we just give him a rough idea, so that we can all call it a night?"

He leaned on his crow cane. "Of course, I wouldn't want to tell him everything. What if he had something I wanted to steal?"

"He'll always have something you want to steal, Kazuki." Her voice easy, "but don't you dare get any ideas..."

His reply was a slow blink. She almost smiled, under the moonlight Kaz Brekker looked like a character out of a forbidden dark romance novel.

Back then, they didn't know why Hoede had called them that very night: it was because he had planned to bring jurda parem into his house and use on his Grisha. The reason why he wanted to know if his mansion was secure enough, as he didn't want any prying eyes on it.

Jurda parem, the plight—that the Fjerdans planned to use on the world Grisha and here she was at the same country, where she and her friends had freed Kuwei but something didn't feel right. Jurda parem was gone, she told herself but was it really?

And with that thought came another: she and Pope were stuck in a hunting lodge with a dozen of Fjerdan men and a blonde stranger. And the night seemed longer than ever. She missed the bastard of the barrel, saints, she missed him.

At the Ice Court when she thought—there'll be no escape for any of them—at least the thought that Kaz Brekker was there at the Ice Court with them gave her a little comfort. But now, here, the reality of the situation that he was thousands of miles away with no knowledge of her whereabouts somehow made her giddy.

When dawn broke, Aeolian beamed at the men crowded into the room and insisted that they make sure to visit Lennart Bjord's house on their way through Overüt.

"Why can't we escort you now?" asked the bearded man.

"We'd be delighted, of course," Aeolian said through gritted teeth. To her surprise, Rafe chimed in, "We didn't think you'd want to stop over with us for a little shopping, my wife wants to get fresh oysters for dinner tonight."

"Where exactly will we find Lennart Bjord's house?" another asked as he followed them outside.

A thick layer of snow had covered the ground, though Aeolian could already see some of it melting away with the rising sun. The hard wind had dwindled to a soft breeze.

"Just head to the main square in Overüt," Rafe said. "It's the grandest house on the boulevard."

The men nodded pleasingly, and helped Pope mount the horse. They set a moderate pace. Now the snow had stopped and there was no trouble finding their way back.

"How old are you anyway?" Aeolian asked Rafe.

"Nineteen," he answered.

He was a teenager just like she thought. They headed towards Elling a port settlement on the northwest coast of Fjerda, where the Stelge river meets the Isenvee. This particular town was known for smuggling and fish.

"How did you find us?" She turned slightly towards him. "And why are you helping us anyway?"

"I had been taking my weekly rides, when the storm hit and we crossed paths," he said. "And I'm heading to Elling as well, I've been staying there for sometime..."

Aeolian didn't believe him but she didn't care, as soon as they reach Elling; she'd never have to see this fairytale boy ever again.

As the fishing town came into view, Aeolian gave a sigh of relief. It's only been a night but for her it seemed as if a long season had passed. She almost had him. Trassel. But because of Rafe, she lost him but if not for Rafe: she and Pope would've been dead in the snow by now as they'd never find the lodge.

The puncture marks in her forearm were throbbing. She'd been attacked by wolves, for Saints' sake. She needed a hot bath, and about twelve hours of sleep. Rafe dropped them off at an inn and went to get a medik for them. After the medik tended to their wounds: he gave them ointments and medicines and strictly instructed them to rest.

Aeolian was frustrated, she didn't come here to rest, she came here for Trassel but she knew both her and Pope needed to rest and get better. She dragged herself up to get a hot bath and the next moment she knew, it was late in the evening. She'd fallen dead asleep after her bath, she was famished so she went downstairs and ordered a stack of pancakes, and a mug of warm milk.

She longed for hot chocolate, not any hot chocolate but the one Kaz Brekker makes for her. She'd never asked him, how he could make the perfect hot chocolate—when he despises the drink for reasons unknown. Her thoughts were interrupted by Rafe, heading towards her. He was all cleaned up, wearing fine clothes and his blonde hair neatly pushed back. Aeolian could tell, he was not an ordinary guy. She'd seen his rifle, his horse and the clothes he wore—he came from money.

"May I?" He asked. She gave him a nod as he smiled and sat down. "Thank you." And as if he couldn't help himself, he said, "the white wolf, he's an isnulf, belonging to a late drüskelle...was it Lars?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

He pressed his lips in a suspicious line. "Why were you really after the wolf, Bo?"

"You've caught me," she said. Saints, Aeolian hadn't been caught at anything, but she could tell Rafe thought she had some kind of angle, so she intended to give him one. "The truth is, Lars and I had a thing before he died...that's how me and Trass bonded."

She wanted to gag, she and Lars? But Rafe seemed to have believed her. He leaned back without another word. She was thankful he didn't question her any further because the drüskelle weren't allowed to have women before marriage, but a handful of them do stray from their paths. And Rafe seemed to know that pretty well.

◾️▪️◾️▪️◾️

When their healths were restored they trekked out of town in search of Trassel once more. They'd seen a flash of white fur appearing and disappearing through the trees. Trassel, prowled the far banks of the river. Aeolian's heart had caught in her throat when she'd glimpsed the other shapes in the woods. Gray wolves. But these animals did not seem to have the orange eyes and rangy bodies of those she'd encountered on the ice.

She wanted to approach Trassel but he never seemed to be alone. Matthias had said that no other wolves accept an insulf but out here was a different story: Trassel seemed to be travelling with the gray wolves. They tracked Trassel for sometime, as Pope studied the behaviours of the pack. That night when they reached town, a man in uniform stood outside the inn holding an envelope.

It was a dinner invitation by Rafe. They were both fed up of the meals provided at the inn so they hop into the carriage, without a second thought. It was a long ride, and Pope seemed to be dozing off—with nothing to do, she redid her hair into a braided bun. Finally the carriage halted outside an old countryside castle. Aeolian glanced up at structure before them: her instincts were right, Rafe did come from money. Old money.

Rafe greeted them warmly, dressed in spotless whites. She and Pope were really not dressed for a dinner party, so she hoped, they were the only ones Rafe invited over. Besides Rafe was the Wellmother from Gäfvelle. Aeolian had that distinct feeling; the Wellmother was the one, who had informed Rafe first hand about strangers in the convent and that's why Rafe set out to search for them in the snow—for reasons unknown. Something seemed fishy and she couldn't wait to get Trassel and be out of Fjerda as soon as possible.

A massive dinner was laid. There were seared perch served with mussels, cabbage shoots and cream, smoked eel, pickled mushrooms, quail eggs, oysters and braised leeks. Fjerdan speciality, little did they know Aeolian was a vegetarian. She helped herself to the cabbage shoots and cream and tried varieties of champagnes and wines as the Wellmother watched her in utter disbelief. Women weren't permitted alcohol in Fjerda, but Aeolian didn't care, she wasn't here to impress anyone.

The whole dinner she'd ignored Rafe, because she didn't want him to bring Lars up. Or maybe, she just felt uncomfortable with him around—this was a first. As desserts were served she noticed that the sugared almonds cookies were the same as the ones at the inn. She realised Rafe was the one, who was sending cookies her way. What does he want from me? She thought grimly.

Rafe and Pope seemed to be bonding well, she'd never seen Pope open up this way to a newbie. And as the music was played, Rafe directed Pope to his study to show the zemeni his collection of maps.

Aeolian gave a sigh of relief as the boys left, she just wanted to enjoy the music in peace. Without Rafe, trying to read her—every now and then. But the Wellmother approached her and said in Fjerdan. "I know what you're up to young lady."

"What do you mean?" Aeolian asked.

"Master Rafe is of noble birth," she said. "You're not the only one."

Aeolian almost burst out laughing. "Why would that concern me?"

The Wellmother's eyes slitted. "I doubt it would concern you at all. You aim to land a wealthy provider. You may have him fooled with your wide green eyes, but you are no honest woman."

And you are the worst kind of hypocrite, Aeolian thought. But all she said was, "I'm happily married, and I'm not into Fjerdan men."

"Because they're wise enough to resist your clumsy allure, I'll warrant." The Wellmother crossed her arms. "But I will be watching."

Aeolian shook her head with false concern. "You have been cloistered too long, Wellmother, if your thoughts turn so readily to sin."

"How dare you__" the old woman spat.

Aeolian muttered. "I will pray for you."

She left the Wellmother red-cheeked and sputtering.

As much as Aeolian enjoyed baiting the Wellmother, she was glad of the woman's suspicions. What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet? Kaz Brekker had once explained. Tell him you're going to steal his watch. If these people think that Aeolian wanted to become a rich mistress, then they'll be distracted from her real plan: that was to take Trassel home because if anyone discovers that the wolf belonged to Matthias' then she and Pope will be in trouble.

As she slipped out of the washroom, Rafe was standing in the dimly lit hall staring at a portrait. "I thought you got lost." He said.

"Your highness, the castle isn't big enough." She looked at him.

"Don't call me that," he turned to her, his pale blue eyes glinting under the lamp. It was like the young Fjerdan had awoken in a wrong fairytale.

There was more than what meets the eyes but she knew, she couldn't dive deeper into it without giving herself away. And it was the least of her concern. She's here for Trassel and Trassel alone, she cannot be distracted by anything else. So without another word, she made her way back to the dinning hall, so that she and Pope could leave this enchanted place and back to the reality of their situation.

◾️▪️◾️▪️◾️

By the time they were at the spot, it was almost dawn. Trassel liked to hunt it's prey so as he was alone enjoying his meal—Aeolian decided to approach him. They both knew she had to be the one, there was no other way. She saw blood and pawprints leading into the trees. It's madness, what she's about to do. But she always dared. The thought brought her little comfort.

"No mourners," she mumbled as she let loose her long dark hair. "No funerals" she heard a voice in her head, the siren's voice or maybe, she was just imagining it.

Aeolian remembered the agony of her battle with the siren too well. Caught in the haze of suffering that had begun after she took the creature's heart. The misery she'd been in, shaking, aching and screaming. She'd begged for death, prayed for it. Without Tolya, without Sturmhond she wasn't sure she could have held on. She'd needed them to keep her going in those long, merciless days as she fought her way back to herself. As the siren voice nearly drove her mad.

She'd regretted her decision immensely, she'd thought of taking her own life over and over again. She'd tried. Even the thought brought her shame. But then when she was able to win over, she betrayed Sturmhond and his crew—she gave them away to the Darkling. She had been a monster. She clutched tight to those memories. She never wanted to be like that again.

This next step was all upto her, will Trassel go back home with her or will he be the death of her—she was soon going to find out. She found the big white wolf feeding on it's prey, she didn't need to announce her presence—he'd known.

The creature turned around, red blood dripping from his muzzle. Aeolian gulped, that could be her dead body, right there.

"Trass," she said.

He took a step forward and Aeolian froze, she hadn't done anything like this before and she didn't know how to. The wolf sniffed the air, his eyes penetrating her. Aeolian knew that instead of hiding her fear, she should use it. She slowly knelt down on the cold ground, so that they'd be seeing eye to eye.

"I've come for you trouble maker." She spoke in Fjerdan. "I've come to take you home."

The next second, he was barely an inch away from her—she could smell the fresh blood in his warm breath. It was as if the animal was trying to read her, then like a miracle, he gently pressed his forehead to hers. Aeolian felt a rush of warmness flowing through her, Trassel had recognised her. She didn't know how, the animal knew that she was Matthias' friend but it made her belief that Matthias' was out there looking after them.

Then from the corner of her eye she spotted the gray wolves, they didn't come forward just watched them from a distance. Trassel turned to them and then back to her, he looked deep into her eyes and Aeolian swore she heard it loud and clear. I am already home.

Was it the golden heart of the siren that helped her hear the voice of the animal? Something human minds couldn't? Or was it just her thought, she couldn't tell as she wiped a tear and reached for the wolf's head, the animal let her pet him. She sat there with him for sometime, she could feel that Trassel had found a purpose here, he'd found a home with the gray wolves—he was their Alfa and he was protecting and leading them.

She knew it was time to go. She hugged the animal, "may Djel watch over you, my friend."

Trassel gave a soft lick on her forehead and headed towards his pack. When Aeolian came out of the trees, she was beaming.

"What happened?" Pope asked.

"He's home po," she embraced him. "Trass is finally home."

Pope embraced her back warmly.

From somewhere up the mountain, they heard a long, mournful howl, and then a chorus of replies echoing over the valley. Trassel doesn't have to stay alone no longer, he'd found a family in the homeland he love like Matthias did. Maybe, he'd finally said his goodbyes too.

Likewise, it was time for her to say goodbye to Matthias, Trassel and Fjerda. She kept her promise, her work here is done and her heart was full. It hadn't been for quite sometime.

◾️▪️◾️▪️◾️

Aeolian pulled up her hood, letting the sounds of the marketplace wash over her. She glanced up to the cliff top where the Ice Court loomed above it all, they'd blown a hole in those walls with one of Fjerda's own tanks. She couldn't stop herself from recalling the incident, whenever she sees the structure above her.

Her quest was over, she should be at the open sea by now but because of an ongoing sea storm—her ship couldn't make its way to Elling and so Aeolian and Pope had to make their way back to Djerholm. But since it was a national holiday at Fjerda, the docks were closed and Aeolian's ship was stuck in the middle and they couldn't leave the harbour. Aeolian strolled around the marketplace, trying to clear her mind. She felt more anxious than ever.

Everywhere she looked there were reminders of Djel. Djel was not her god but it was Matthias' and Trassel's and she'll respect it, like she respects all religions. She thought of Kaz Brekker, blowing a hole in the Center of the Ice Court—disintegrating the sacred ash tree. He was something else—when will he ever learn?

Pope appeared before her, he learnt his lesson. Never sneak up on the Black Blade or it's a knife on your throat or your gut. "Still moody?" He gave her his dazzling smile.

"Out of all the days, why should Vinetkälla be today." She frowned.

"They're setting up some kind of show," Pope said, gesturing farther down the quay to where a makeshift stage had been erected. "That might cheer you up."

Aeolian recalled a time in her travels where she'd been forced to watch over five interminable acts of Fjerdan opera, she had to keep jabbing herself to prevent nodding off. She longed for the wild streets of Ketterdam. She'd take a hundred bawdy, raucous performances of the Koemdic Brute rather than whatever—the make shift stage is set up for.

For saints sake, she missed that saints forsaken city a little too much. Even though it smells of soup and fishes, and there was no fresh air to breath especially in a place like the barrel—where everything was congested and trouble lurks in every corner. She'd found a home among those mess. Home, the barrel was her home.

Aeolian didn't want to sound rude, so she told him. "Sure but let's grab a glass of honey water first." She would've preferred wine or maybe, something stronger but they were in Fjerda and she couldn't be day drinking in public.

They got glasses of honey water and stood a good distance from the stage. The curtain lifted, revealing a painted cliff top and a miniature marketplace below. They were looking at Djerholm, the banner read: The story of the Ice Court.

"This should be interesting," Aeolian sipped her drink as Pope nodded. "Indeed."

Cymbals crashed to start the tale of Egmond, the prodigy who had designed and built extraordinary castles and grand buildings when he was only a child. The audience clapped enthusiastically, but a nobleman who didn't want to pay for his fanciful new home—cursed Egmond, and the handsome young architect was bound in chains, to be dragged off to the old fort that had once stood on the cliff top above the harbor.

The scene changed to Egmond in his cell as a great storm arrived over the stage, embodying the flood that had engulfed the fort with the king and queen of Fjerda in it. Aeolian knew the myths and legends well. This was the part of the story where Egmond was meant to place his hand on the roots of a tree that had poked through his cell wall, and with Djels help, use the strength of the sacred ash to buttress the walls of the fort, save the king and queen, and build the foundation for the mighty Ice Court.

But then she felt a hand of her shoulder, in a breath she spun around.

"Hello, Aeolian Kir-Taban." The voice said.

March 22. 2022