xlii. my hajefelta, my songbird
– Randvi

          "STAY BEHIND, RANDVI. You're just a distraction, Randvi." Ranted Randvi, pacing backwards and forwards over the cracked stones of the crypt. "Does he even know me?!"

Nina watched on from the floor where she lay somewhat comfortably on a pile of old blankets and flat pillows, tugging a loose thread with her fingers. A grin was plastered on her lips. Randvi had been repeating the same few words for almost an hour, sometimes mocking Kaz's voice, other times stopping to kick an already cracked tomb.

"The poor fellow in that tomb wants to enjoy his death in peace. I don't think he appreciates being kicked." Nina teased.

"It's not like I spent years of my life training and fighting." She continued, oblivious to Nina's remarks. "I have a power that could topple entire nations and he treats me like I'm some cursed vase he's scared of chipping! So now I'm stuck babysitting three lost Grisha!"

"Randvi the Nursemaid sounds better than Randvi the Great," Nina said. "But don't count me and Jakov in your babysitting list. We're older!"

"That's even worse!"

"I think he's just trying to protect you–"

"I don't need protecting Jakov! I want to be doing something. I want to help Inej, I want to make sure everyone's okay. I want to– Djel, I want to destroy everyone that's ever wronged me!"

Randvi kicked a rogue pebble in frustration. She could feel her feet itching, willing to be on the cobbled streets of Ketterdam, or fields of dewy grass, or fresh snow or soft sand. She needed to do something, to be of use. And yet here she was, wasting away on an island of death. She feared she'd become just another body if she remained on the island any longer.

By now Jesper must have found his father, had a reunion Randvi could have only dreamed of. Why couldn't she be there to see it? Why wouldn't Kaz let her tag along anywhere?

Because Pekka will be looking for you.

Then I guess I should pay him a visit first.

A cool draft danced through the thick stone walls of the crypt, lifting some stray hairs. Randvi released a deep sigh, closing her eyes. She was finally falling apart. She needed to be strong for everyone, to fill the gap Inej had left. But it was too much.

"The sooner we get Inej back and Kaz's damn kruge the better. And I want you on the first ship back to Ravka and far away from me." She pointed an accusatory finger at Jakov.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"Your face annoys me."

Randvi was lying, she rather liked Jakov's face.

Without another word, she made her way out of the crypt and to the uninviting graveyard. I need to get out, I need to be somewhere far away. This was not the life she had planned. She wanted to live on a farm with her brother, to fall in love with a baker, or a blacksmith – someone ordinary, someone kind.

So why was she being so cruel towards Jakov?

Because he deserves better than Ketterdam, better than me.

Sinking to the floor behind a mausoleum, underneath a trellis of ivy, Randvi wrapped her arms around her knees and stared out at the mist. If she looked hard enough, she could just make out the shimmer of lights lining the ports. It was strange she'd once called the warehouses besides the harbour home, and that Ketterdam had been her safe place. Now she felt like an outsider.

There was a rustle behind her.

Randvi leaped onto her feet, slipping a blade from her belt. Strike first, ask questions later. Kaz had taught her that. As soon as she felt the figures closeness, Randvi hooked her leg around theirs, sending them back first onto the dirt, her blade held against their throat.

But it was only Jakov.

"Don't sneak up on me like that." She snarled.

"I only came to help–"

"Why?"

"Because I just ... I want you to be okay."

Her grip wavered. She could have killed him, have run her blade across his skin and watched a stream of crimson decorate the gravestones. Jakov could have killed her just as easily. His hands were free, and he was grisha. Why wasn't he filling her lungs with seawater and drowning her from the inside?

The blade fell from Randvi's grip. She fell back onto the dirt a thud, wrapping her arms around her knees again.

"I could have killed you, you know?" Randvi said weakly, her head hung. "Why didn't you strike back?"

"Because I trust you." Jakov said, brushing dirt off his clothing and sitting himself up besides her.

She laughed. "Would you trust me with a secret?"

"I'd trust you with my darkest secret and greatest shame."

Their eyes met. Jakov's were the colour of whiskey in the light, warm and inviting. They were a far cry from hers – icy, threatening and covered in smudges of soot. They were twin flames, destined to fight, destined to lose. Perhaps in another life they would have been something other than enemies.

"My parents didn't really die in a farming accident," Jakov began, his gaze falling.

Did he really mean what he'd said? Did he really trust her with his secrets?

"Our harvest failed one year. My parents grew behind on rent payments, ran into trouble with the land lord. My father made some threats he didn't mean, and that night the land lord showed up armed with a rifle and killed them. I was so angry and ..." His words faltered on his tongue, but Randvi knew what he had intended to say. "That night I discovered I was Grisha."

Randvi knew his anger all too well. The feeling the gods had abandoned you, feeling as though everyone that was meant to protect you had failed. Perhaps that was why Jakov trusted her. They had been running all their lives with no home to turn to and no one to run to.

"I'm telling you because- because I want someone to remember my story when I'm gone."

"Don't say that,"

"You have friends that will remember you, people that love you. I have no one, and that's the real reason I'm still here, Randvi. You have a reason to leave this place, I don't, so I will fight for you."

"That's not true."

"I've never had friends. Even back at the Little Palace I was bullied by the other Grisha. No one even noticed when the drüskelle put me on a slaving ship to Fjerda. I never fought back because, well, what was the point? I had nothing to fight for. The flames of hope inside me had burnt out."

Jakov's warm eyes met hers once more. He hadn't changed a bit since they'd first met back at the Little Palace. She had believed him to be a charming Grisha – wicked and cruel. She'd never truly known him at all. He was a boy, not much different from her, kind and gentle even when the world had been nothing but cruel.

"These people - this strange group of outcasts - have given me something to fight for."

"We're not worth dying over."

"I don't have anything to lose."

"There's always something left to lose," Randvi whispered, words her mother had once spoken.

Jakov nodded once, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He looked out at the harbour lights shimmering through the mist. The few rays of sun permitted through the mist glistened against his bare bronze arms. They were scarred and marked, just like hers.

"Want to know why I called you Hajefetla when you freed me from that prison cell?" He asked, and Randvi nodded. "In Ravka it had been the name of a weapon, Songbird, but where I grew up the songs of birds marked the end of a storm. They were beautiful. They brought hope. You did the same for me, in that moment you were my song bird, my Hajefetla. The calm after the storm."

Randvi smiled for the first time in a long time. When she had thought all she brought was pain and suffering, she had brought hope to the one boy that needed it most. That had to amount to something.

"So I will fight for you, Randvi. Even if you hate me."

"I don't hate you." She admitted.

And Jakov laughed, a laugh so beautiful Randvi thought it'd come from Djel himself.