Chapter Text
Inej had never felt more like someone carrying a secret. The irony wasn’t lost on her. After all, she’d clutched so many of them tightly in her fists, over the years. Had hid them in her mind until she feared they would take up so much space they would contaminate her with their ugliness. Dreadful, dirty, terrible things. Dark currencies ready to be used to manipulate and torture, to make powerful men and women beg and beg for mercy, for forgiveness which would never come. Weapons cutting deeper than her sharpest knives. She’d feared them herself, the ones inside of her and out. Secrets were powerful in the Barrel, but they were equally dangerous. A double-edged sword. Having some meant there were things that could be found out and used against you. Against the ones you cared about. As the Wraith, Kaz Brekker’s spider, Inej had known there were very few people who would dare try to beat her to the secrets game. She had known so many – too many. But there were still days when it seemed like her own secrets were held over her head like an axe, ready to fall. They’d felt so heavy. None of them had been pretty. None of them had ever made her feel giddy.
This one did.
It wasn’t an axe. It was sparks in her stomach and in her veins, carrying her light on her feet as if gravity had finally given up on her, and she was glad of it. Inej had thought earlier that the elation of finally running with Kaz again would push her over the edge, make her stand on the thin line between all consuming liveliness and madness – she’d been wrong. This. This was what the poets spoke about, what could turn the world upside down. She knew she probably looked a mess and another girl, another version of herself, might have been shy about it – cheeks flushed, hair undone, lips bruised from kissing. Tears unshed in her lashes. But Inej didn’t care. She felt glorious. She would keep this secret safe as long as she held breath. The only truly precious one she’d ever been given.
Still, under all that elation, there was a small voice in the back of Inej’s mind, reminding her that those kinds of secrets were the most dangerous of all. People already knew she was valuable to Kaz. Their enemies had taken notice of him keeping her close, of her, always standing in his shadow. If their lives had been different, none of this would have mattered. But Inej had told Kaz that theirs was not the kind of romance people wrote about in books, and she knew she’d been right. Those rich people dancing on that shiny floor, with their fancy dresses and capes – they were the subjects of such stories. They were the stuff fairy tales were made out of. She knew that much. They could pretend for one night, put on their best attire and sparkle in the chandelier’s lights, but pretending was all it could ever be. Years in the Barrel would teach that to anyone, in the harshest way possible. But maybe fairy tales were not what Inej had been taught after all. Maybe they were simpler than that, quieter. Made of unspoken promises, of different places, different times, but always, Kaz’s hand in hers, hers in his. And maybe – more. Endless possibilities to share.
For now, though, his hand in one of hers and his gloves in the other were enough. After their mad race – and the kissing and the touching and the world tipping moment she couldn’t help but go back to, again and again – they’d had to make their way to the meeting point they’d agreed on with Jesper and Wylan. The ball was still in full swing but they’d agreed on a time and place, just in case anything happened and they got separated. So Kaz had put his disguise back on after they’d disentangled themselves, and they’d taken the long way around back to the main hall, just in case Bersecht’s men were still looking for them. Inej didn’t know how he’d managed to orient himself in the unfamiliar corridors, but he had. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised by his seemingly infinite memory – she had seen the damage it could cause, over the years. Just like she knew Kaz shouldn’t have been impressed when she’d sneaked past the two guards keeping an eye on the guests’ coats to find theirs. It had been so ridiculously easy, almost insulting. Inej had brought back their clothes where he was leaning against the wall in the shadows, the two jackets in her arms looking like one, the same shade of black – their secret hidden in plain sight. She’d handed him his and despite the weariness in his eyes, she’d seen a glint there. The dancing and the running had hurt him, probably even more than she could tell – more than he would ever show. Inej had felt, not for the first time, a strange mixture of gladness and sadness over the fact that she was the only one Kaz dared to be vulnerable in front of, if only for a split moment. Then he’d smiled thinly and gestured with his head, sliding his fingers back between hers, gloved once more. They’d kept making their way through the dark.
Kaz’s mouth was a grim line now, as they finally stepped in the outside courtyard, and Inej didn’t feel as giddy anymore. She could almost hear his jaws grinding together over the excruciating pain he must be in. She knew he wouldn’t lean on her arm or her shoulder, stubborn as he was. She also knew better than to offer it. He was aware of the limits of his body just like she was of hers, and they’d always respected that for one another. Inej squeezed his fingers between hers as they walked towards the carriage that was thankfully exactly where it was supposed to be in the chilly night air, waiting for them. She kept on expecting him to drop her hand, establish once more the distance they were always careful to keep between them in public. Just because they’d danced in a room full of strangers didn’t mean they would keep the charade going. But Kaz didn’t release her fingers, not even as they stepped into the light in front of the horses. Imke looked up from her book and down at them from the driver’s seat. How she could read in this lighting, Inej would never know. Jem always teased her about it and said her eyes would fall off. Their captain would have to agree – although she was presently very distracted by warm trickster fingers curiously still wrapped around hers.
“Had a nice dance, Mr. and Mrs. Rietveld?” Jem asked, legs nonchalantly crossed, the reins loose in their hands and looking unfairly good in their stolen uniform.
Inej felt her treacherous cheeks heat up at the names and gave them a look in the darkness. She assumed the both of them were quite the sight – messy hair, flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes. She was pretty sure Kaz had some gold pigment at the corner of his mouth from kissing her face earlier and she was certain, even if she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror for a while, that the lines on her forehead and eyes were not as crisp as they’d once been. Jem looked from her to Kaz and snorted, completely unfazed by their murderous expressions. Inej realized with a quick glance to his face that they’d been wearing the exact same one and somehow that made her blush even more.
“Wylan and Jesper?” Kaz simply replied, his voice clipped and hoarse from his discomfort.
“Already in there,” Imke answered immediately, pointing over her shoulder.
Her Kerch second wasn’t as daring as Jem when it came to teasing Inej in Kaz’s presence – or worse, teasing Kaz himself. She’d heard the rumours about Dirtyhands for most of her life before becoming a part of her crew. Imke would never dare cross him, even if Inej had promised that he wouldn’t touch one hair on her head as long as she was her friend. After beating him repeatedly at cards games on her ship, however, Jem wasn’t as bashful. Not that they ever were. Inej heard them say something about loosing all sensations in their butt as Kaz pulled the handle of the door with his free hand, but she didn’t have the time to process the comment because they were greeted by the sight of Wylan and Jesper enthusiastically making out. Kaz cleared his throat and Inej didn’t know if it was the sound or the sudden rush of cold air in the carriage that tipped them off, but Wylan jumped and scrambled to straighten up. Jesper stayed exactly where he was, smug as a cat curled up in the sun, completely unbothered.
“Ah, there you are!” he exclaimed pleasantly, holding back Wylan’s legs when he tried to remove them from where they were draped over his lap. “We were almost getting worried.”
“Yes, I can see that,” grumbled Kaz, letting go of her hand to push himself up the two small steps that led into the carriage, very obviously unamused.
“Well, Wylan was starting to get worried but I distracted him well enough,” Jesper added with a smirk that turned his partner crimson.
“We would have come and looked after you if you hadn’t showed up,” Wylan corrected pointedly.
“Yeah, eventually,” Jesper drawled, earning himself a playful swat.
Inej stepped in after Kaz and sat in front of her Zemeni friend, swinging the small door shut. They started moving as she adjusted her skirt and coat, looking at Kaz from the corner of her eye. He’d removed the wig, the nose and mustache for good this time and dropped his head against the cushioned seat with a sigh and a thump. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows frowning painfully. Jesper straightened slightly in his seat, giving Inej some room and looking over at Kaz. He tried to make it look nonchalant, casual, but she knew him too well.
“You alright, boss? You don’t look too good.”
Kaz opened his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, shooting him an annoyed look.
“I’ll be alright when you’re finally quiet,” he replied moodily, shifting on the bench to try to make himself more comfortable and wincing over the effort.
Jesper rolled his eyes but Inej didn’t miss the glance he exchanged with Wylan and the way they didn’t shift, Wylan keeping his legs up on his lap so Kaz would have the entire side of the carriage to himself. He did stretch his bad leg, one hand digging into the muscles over his knee, trying to alleviate the ache. Inej could feel it shake next to hers and had to mentally sit on her own hands to restrain herself from reaching for him. Suddenly Jesper straightened again and blindly grasped behind him, as if looking for something. He had to lift himself slightly off the bench, almost throwing Wylan off balance, to finally retrieve the hidden object. He pulled out Kaz’s crow cane and offered it to him head first with a gleaming smile. Kaz’s hand halted and he sat very still, his eyes on Jesper turning into slits.
“Here, got your cane,” Jesper declared triumphantly, if a little obviously.
“Were you sitting on it?” Kaz scowled, snatching it from him indignantly.
“Saints, alright, don’t thank me or anything,” his friend replied with a scoff.
Inej exchanged a look with Wylan, who was slowly shaking his head from left to right, exasperated. Children, his glare seemed to say, the both of them. She had to agree.
“Actually,” Jesper mumbled and cleared his throat, pretending to fix the lapels of his bright purple suit, “don’t thank me, because it was Inej who asked Jem to bring it with them, not me.”
Kaz sharply looked up from his cane, which he’d been inspecting closely, then down at her. Their eyes met and for one second, he managed the barest smile, his face tense. In the soft warm glow of the carriage’s lamp Inej could tell how feverish he looked, how frayed and tired. She wanted to put ice on his knee, hold him to her and pet his hair until he turned all soft in her arms like he’d been earlier, hidden in the corridor. Instead, she smiled back at him and carefully touched her thigh to his under her coat, holding his gaze until they abruptly stopped at the last checkpoint. The sudden movement made them all sway in their seats and Kaz winced with a quiet curse. He showed their false passports to the Fjerdan guard scowling at them and then they were on their way again, finally crossing the thick walls of the Ice Court. Inej looked outside, and even if she couldn’t see much, she remembered the abrupt slope they’d barrelled down in a tank once, screaming and laughing at the top of their lungs. A little further there were lights coming from Djerholm and the piers, where Nina had risked her life and sanity for them all. She sent a quiet prayer to her Saints, asked them to keep her friend safe on her new journey. They would see each other again at dusk the next day, once the celebrations and the ceremonies had died down and Nina could sneak out to go to town and meet them, before they left for Ketterdam. She wished she could have said goodbye tonight.
Since Inej was looking outside, she didn’t see Kaz give back to Wylan his and Jesper’s forged passports and return theirs in one of the many inside pockets of his jacket. She didn’t see him start to remove his gloves with an impassive expression, ignoring the surprise that flashed in Jesper’s eyes before his friend promptly looked away. She didn’t notice his slender fingers pause on his lap, then slowly inch towards hers, half hidden in the darkness and the folds of their jackets, until the smallest one brushed the back of her hand resting on her thigh. Inej looked down immediately, the touch a true pickpocket one but still unmistakable to her senses. Knowing he didn’t want to make a show of it, his movements slow and calculated – secret, subtle – she simply smiled and turned her hand up in a wordless invitation. The tips of his fingers caressed her palm and then he slid them between hers, his other hand holding his gloves on his knee, keeping them close, just in case. Inej smiled and squeezed his hand in hers as best she could, the difference in their sizes always making it slightly awkward for her to do so. She didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at her but she saw a small smile break the painful lines of his face once more from the corner of her eye and that was enough. While she chatted with Wylan and Jesper, asking them about what they’d missed and pointedly ignoring their teasing looks, Kaz’s thumb moved over the back of her hand and her knuckles, tracing gentle patterns. He didn’t speak much, his eyes closed for most of the ride, sometimes flashing open whenever some part of the conversation caught his interest. Inej could feel how much of his focus he poured into simply enduring his pain, taking deep, measuring breaths she could hear only because they were sitting so close. She was relieved when the carriage finally stopped in front of the fancy inn Nina had booked for them.
Her relief was short lived, however, once they’d checked in and found themselves at the bottom of the stairs, wearily gazing upwards. She shot a look at Kaz while Wylan and Jesper started to climb without waiting for them, knowing he wouldn’t want them to watch. He decisively clenched his jaw, clutched his cane like the weapon it sometimes was and put one foot forward, his fingers tight around hers once more. Inej followed, matching him pace for pace, step for step. Kaz managed two flights of stairs and had to stop on the landing of the first floor, his breathing ragged. She would have forced him to take a minute anyway – his palm was slick in hers and he could barely balance his weight. Before she could say anything Kaz suddenly leaned into her in the dark of the wood panelled stairwell, his forehead landing heavily against the top of her head, narrowly missing her hair brooch.
“Thank you for my cane,” he half gasped, half whispered in her hair, breathless.
Surprised, not only by his vulnerable words but also by the sudden weight and feverish warmth of his body against hers, Inej did what came to her instinctively and braced her free hand on his waist, preventing him from falling down the stairs they’d just climbed. Kaz was scarcely holding himself upright; she could feel him sway against her where their arms were linked, from their shoulders to the tips of her fingers resting over his scarred knuckles. She turned her face and pressed it soothingly to the crook of said shoulder while he tried to steady himself, his heart pounding so hard she could feel it through the many layers of his clothing. Damn his stupid pride.
“Will you let me help you up the rest of the stairs?” Inej asked quietly against the fabric of his coat.
Her tone was kind, but they both knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kaz took a deep breath and straightened up slowly, his hand loosening around hers.
“I’ll allow it,” he replied, his voice rough.
He’d tried to use a self-important tone, pretending to be fine enough to jest, but Inej wasn’t fooled and he knew it – he wouldn’t meet her eyes, his jaw clenched in pain or shame or both. She made sure his cane was enough to support him briefly before taking his hand in both of hers and carefully maneuvering it over her shoulders. It would have made her smile in any other circumstances, the way they seemed to fit no matter how they stood next to each other. For two people who struggled to touch one another, their limbs seemed to pair together effortlessly. She was the perfect height for his arm to rest on and support some of his weight, his wrist snug over her clavicle. He avoided it, at first, but then they took their first step and his leg almost gave out under him. Tensing all around her, Kaz gradually leaned into her strength when it became clear that he needed to do so in order to take the next step, and the next. He wouldn’t let her carry him, however, and Inej was strong, so she followed his pace without so much as a flinch. They made it to the first step of the next flight of stairs, their gaits carefully synchronized, and Kaz paused. She felt his muscles shift as he braced himself for the climb.
“Don’t trip over your skirt,” he managed to say between two uneasy breaths, putting his foot on the first step.
Inej followed and pushed, rising them both on the slat of smooth wood underneath their feet. She shot him a wry look in the dark, amused despite herself at the fact that even that deep in discomfort he would find the strength to tease her.
“I never trip, Kaz Brekker,” she reminded him sternly, making the shadow of his usual smirk appear on his lips.
“That’s reassuring. It would be a long way down.”
She snorted and held him tighter around the waist, stepping up once more. They made their way slowly, laboriously to the next landing, then the second floor, where their rooms were. Panting, Kaz disentangled himself from her and Inej didn’t stop him, looking at the numbers on the doors while he leaned heavily against the wall – Fjerdan numbers she didn’t understand.
“Second door on the left,” Kaz informed her matter-of-factly, pushing himself off the wall with a wince.
“You can read Fjerdan?”
“I know my numbers in many languages. It’s useful for cash.”
Inej smiled and shook her head at him when she noticed the hint of smug pride in his eyes, despite how pale he was and the sheen of sweat on his forehead. She realized belatedly that it was very possible he was becoming slightly delirious with the pain, at that point. Determined to finally sit him down and take care of him, she grabbed his hand again and gently pulled him along, taking out the heavy key the housekeeper had given them downstairs. She slid it in the lock and opened the door, revealing a simply decorated room with a small table, a sofa and a few armchairs. If this had been Ketterdam the space would have been lavished with gold accents and lush colours, but the Fjerdan were not as theatrical. There was another door on the left, behind which they could hear Wylan and Jesper’s muffled voices, a second one that lead to a bathroom, and a third one, left open, on the right. Inej immediately guided him that way, the sounds of their footsteps and his cane stifled by the thick carpet, and pushed the wood panel. They both stopped abruptly in their tracks. Kaz was the first one to recover from his surprise.
“Nina,” he groaned between his teeth with as much feeling as he would a curse.
There was only one gigantic, terribly inviting bed in the center of the room. Inej looked over her shoulder at the common room, thinking maybe they’d both missed another door, but quickly had to come to the conclusion they hadn’t. She turned back to him, feeling a blush rise dangerously on her cheeks. Kaz looked at the bed as if he could annihilate it with his eyes, which, technically, wouldn’t help. Sleeping in the same room as him would have been fine if there had been two beds; they’d done it before, during jobs, with the others. Maybe they wouldn’t have slept well, considering that they were both used to their own space and would have been overly aware of each other’s – and only each other’s – presence, but they would have made due. One bed, however, would not work. She remembered how panic had seized her as she’d thought about it on their way here, on her boat. And yet – there was that feeling again, tickling her insides, that voice asking once more what it would be like, if they just dared? That stubborn, frustrating wanting.
Trying to distract herself, Inej pushed the door open further and held back a sigh of relief when she saw a sofa pushed against one of the walls, under a massive mirror. It was small, probably more decorative than anything else – rich people all liked to surround themselves with pretty furniture they didn’t need, apparently, and for once she was glad of it. Kaz seemed to follow her line of sight, however, because he finally crossed the threshold, laboriously pulling her behind him in the process with that determined look on his face. He made it to the sofa and released her hand before carefully lowering himself on it, unable to hide a flinch of pain as his knees bent all the way. He let himself fall against the back of it with a heavy exhale, fingers loosening around his cane and his eyes losing all focus, going somewhat glassy over the strength of his relief. Inej looked around them at the room, allowing him to catch his breath while she did so. The bed was so extremely alluring, like a third presence that made the back of her neck tingle when she wasn’t looking at it, impossible to ignore.
“I,” declared Kaz after a moment, his voice cracking on the edges, “will never dance again.”
Inej turned back to him and smiled softly, watching as he pulled at the knot of his tie to try to loosen it, his usually steady hands shaking and clumsy. She stepped a little closer and reached for it without a word, gently untangling it herself when he let go of it reluctantly, with an annoyed huff directed at himself. She knew he hated not being in control of his own body and understood the feeling too well, the helplessness of it. How it made one feel frustrated and weak and ashamed, even if there was nothing to be ashamed of. She knew he’d turned his broken bones into proof, proof of his strength and resolve, as she’d done with her own body. Maybe it was because Kaz knew she knew that he didn’t try to stop her, his uneven breaths brushing her face as she pulled his tie loose. She looked back at his face and smiled to him even if he was avoiding her eyes, straightening up to let him finish the work. A muscle in his jaw twitched but he removed the expensive piece of fabric and placed it safely in the pocket of his coat without a word. His hands were steadier when he attacked the remaining buttons of it next, undoing them one at a time, meticulously.
“I agree it would probably be more reasonable, but it’s a shame, for the dancing,” she finally declared to try and change his mind. “You were quite good at it.”
Kaz halted almost unperceptively before unhooking the last button. She held out her hand when he was done, taking his coat after he managed to pull it off and draping it on the arm of the sofa. He fell back against the cushions and shot her a dubious glance, one eyebrow quirking up.
“I almost stepped on your feet. Three times.”
Inej smiled at him and shrugged off her coat too, placing it over his. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and found him staring at her, his chest rising and falling visibly at every breath he managed, once more dressed only in his terribly distracting suit. Heat shot up her spine at the sight.
“I really liked it,” she said conspiratorially, watching fondly as his ivory cheeks turned the softest shade of pink at her words.
Kaz blinked, his eyes suddenly coming back into focus.
“What?” he rasped.
“The dance,” she reminded him with a chuckle.
Kaz cleared his throat and she turned away from him again, trying to conceal her blush. She didn’t understand why but she suddenly felt a little shy, the secret sparks in her chest blazing brighter. It was absurd that his heated gaze alone could still make her knees go weak, even after kissing him until they were both breathless and letting him touch places no one had touched in years. She brushed the tips of her fingers to the dried flowers bouquet on the side table, feeling his eyes on her all the while.
“I can sleep here,” he started saying after a beat, bringing her back from her musing, “and you can take the- what are you doing?”
Inej removed the flowers and brought the side table over carefully, angling it so it was in front of his aching leg and ignoring his confused expression.
“Moving this so you can rest your leg on it,” she replied simply, then looked him straight in the eyes decisively, raising her brows. “And there is no way I’m letting you sleep on this thing. You’re too tall for it.”
“Inej-” he started to protest, frowning, but she cut him off.
“It’s more logical if I take it. Now don’t move. I’ll go get some ice.”
Inej turned around without waiting for his objection, locking the door of their suite behind herself. She made her way back down to the reception, her feet silent on the wooden floors, and after some clumsy explanations in Kerch, then Ravkan, she managed to secure one handful of ice wrapped in cloth to bring back up. When she quietly stepped back into their room Kaz had managed to remove his suit jacket and waistcoat, and was carefully rolling the sleeves of his black shirt. She hadn’t seen him without those layers often. Apparently, he was warm – the effect of running, kissing and climbing four flights of stairs in pain, one could assume – and suddenly, she was too. Unbearably so. Despite the handful of ice she was clutching to herself, the simmering heat that had been gathering in her chest since the alcove climbed back to the surface. She teared her eyes away from the visible tendons of his wrists and his crow and cup tattoo, trying to ignore the skip in her heart at the view of his strong arms. She wondered what was wrong with her – she’d seen him without a shirt before many times, for Saints’ sake. She’d even been wrapped in those very same arms not even an hour earlier. Kaz suddenly lifted his eyes and she would’ve triumphantly realized that he hadn’t heard her come back in if she hadn’t been so busy trying to breathe.
“What would I do without you?” he sighed heavily in that raspy voice of his, making matters definitely worse.
He pulled his leg up on the small table she’d moved earlier with a wince and let himself fall back in the sofa, straightening to adjust to the different position. Inej took advantage of the fact that he wasn’t looking at her to compose herself, slowly walking over with her precious bundle.
“You’d probably be dead by now,” she managed to tease, in answer to what she assumed had been a rhetorical question.
She expected him to scoff or dig out a dry response, one of his dramatic tirades that always made her roll her eyes, but instead he just considered her silently, tilting his head to the side, his blown-out pupils thoughtful on her face.
“That sounds about right,” he murmured musingly, and, annoyingly, she was blushing again.
Inej handed him the ice, trying to hide how pleased she felt at that statement, but she was pretty sure he saw it in the corners of her mouth because one of his inched up in reply.
“Here.”
Kaz considered the bundle in her hands, his eyes immediately losing their fondness and becoming sharp once more, despite the pain. He hesitated almost unperceptively, stealing a look at her face, then reached for the ice carefully. Inej wasn’t used to see him waver in any situation and looked at him closely, perplexed, wondering if she’d imagined it. She rubbed her wet, cold hands together once he’d taken it, trying to warm them up. Kaz didn’t say anything, simply put the ice over his knee and closed his eyes, frowning. The contrast probably wasn’t very pleasant at first, but she knew it would help with the ache, eventually. Inej stepped closer still and waited until he opened his eyes again to reach and brush her knuckle against his cheek, gently.
Before she could even understand what had happened Kaz’s fist closed around her wrist, abruptly pushing her away. Inej gasped and he flinched, immediately releasing her, as if her skin was on fire. She saw a terrible, vulnerable hurt flash in his dark eyes.
“Don’t,” he chocked, immediately screwing them shut painfully. “Don’t touch me when your hands are wet.”
His voice, even when it sounded so tortured, almost panicked, prevented Inej from vanishing at the shock of his sudden tight hold, there and gone. The unique quality of its timbre grounded her in her body and even if the urge to just succumb to oblivion was tempting, almost disturbingly natural to her after all these years, she clenched her fists and forced herself to stay there, no matter how it made her heart gallop in her chest and her breathing hitch. She wavered, her senses getting fuzzy around the edges, and pressed her clenched hands to her forehead, crouching down and making herself inhale, then exhale slowly. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that until Kaz spoke again, barely over a whisper.
“I’m sorry.”
Inej breathed in as deeply as she could one last time before lifting her head and carefully letting her hands fall, looking up at him. He was completely rigid next to her except for his hand, trembling ever so slightly, holding out a handkerchief. She searched his eyes and saw something she’d rarely, if ever, seen in them – guilt. Underneath the raging pain, it was there, and somehow, it pulled her back to the surface. He only ever looked at her like that, she realized with a painful clench of her heart. Inej could tell he was gripping his sanity by the seams, just like she was. We’ll make our way out together. Holding her breath, she carefully reached for the handkerchief, making sure their fingers wouldn’t brush. She noticed that Kaz had removed the ice from his knee and was digging the fingers of his other hand in his thigh – not in the soothing way he’d done in the carriage, but in an unforgiving hold. He’d told her once that pain helped. The sight made Inej incomprehensibly angry, all of a sudden. She dropped her eyes so he wouldn’t see and wiped her hands with the handkerchief brusquely, mercilessly, not leaving one single drop of condensation from the ice behind. She was mad with herself, mad with the stupid ice, mad at him, maybe, and even if she knew she wasn’t being reasonable, she didn’t care.
“I know you wonder what happened. What… made me this way.”
The words, barely making it to her ears, so quiet were they uttered, made her pause immediately. Inej risked a glance at him again, the handkerchief crumpled in her hands, but Kaz wasn’t looking at her. He was staring away, his gaze hard as steel, his hand still tight around his leg, the other one a fist on the settee. His jaw was made of stone. He swallowed uneasily.
“I want to tell you,” he kept on going, every syllable laboriously ripping from his throat. “But it’s… difficult.”
She was still looking at him when he blinked and forced himself to return her gaze. It knocked the breath out of her. The Suli had a saying about broken people, haunted people, carrying the ghosts of their past wherever they went. Kaz’s eyes in that moment were full of them. Then, as soon as he’d let them show, the spectres were gone and the ruthless determination was back, swirling with the feverish pain.
“I will tell you,” he murmured, his voice trembling but fierce. “I promise.”
Inej suddenly unfroze as if with that oath he’d broken a spell, her limbs as stiff as a statue’s. She carefully pushed herself up on her knees next to him and lifted her hand, offering him his handkerchief. She made sure he was looking at her, truly looking at her, when she gave her answer.
“I know.”
Kaz hesitated, searching her face, then exhaled shakily when he found what he was looking for. His left hand unclenched from around his leg, releasing the pressure, and she saw a tremor go through him. It made his entire body shudder and he stared hard at her, fighting whatever was haunting him, his battle face on. Inej realized then that she was trembling too, her hand wavering in front of her, but just like him she was coming back to herself. Kaz took a deep breath and reached, halted when she retreated slightly, skittish, then tentatively moved as she brought her hand forward again. Instead of taking back his handkerchief, he surprised her by gently touching the tips of his fingers to hers. The motion made them lean closer to each other, both seeing in the other’s eyes what they still didn’t dare believe. That their touch had become comfort. That they were safe. Inej held on fast to Kaz’s eyes in the quiet of the room as he carefully traced the lines of her hand with his fingers, half of them over the handkerchief, the others on her bare skin.
“I scared you,” he whispered regretfully, a trace of guilt coming back into the lines of his face.
Inej immediately shook her head, slightly but firmly.
“You startled me,” she corrected him quietly. “But I am not afraid of you, Kaz.”
His jaw tightened again as he mulled that over, trying to accept the difference she wanted – needed – him to see. He nodded stiffly after a beat, dropping his eyes to their touching hands. His fingers inched closer to her wrist until they brushed over her pulse, lingering there. Inej stayed very still, her body motionless and tense, and saw his pupils sharpen in strange fascination. His touch was precautious, as soft as feathers, and somehow it seemed to make the fear of his earlier grasp vanish, erasing it from her senses and replacing it with this – the Kaz she knew. Her skin shivered under his fingers, all her muscles unlocking quietly.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, lifting his eyes back to hers.
Inej gave him a small smile, sliding her hand over his on her wrist lightly. He tensed, but didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry too,” she said, and his eyes flashed.
Kaz shook his head stubbornly, avoiding her gaze again, as if the idea of her apologizing to him was absurd. She would have insisted, but he spoke before she did.
“Your hands are cold,” he declared softly, frowning, as if that was his fault too.
His thumb caressed over her pulse and Inej felt the smile grow back on her face.
“That would have to be the ice,” she informed him with just the tiniest hint of teasing.
Kaz looked at her and one corner of his mouth inched up tentatively at her tone. Then he straightened, serious once more, and his hand slowly pulled on hers, his hold still light enough for her to free herself easily if she wanted to. She didn’t. He guided her until her fingers touched the seat of the sofa under his, a safe distance away from his lap.
“Come here?” he asked silently, hesitant – no armour in sight.
Without answering with words, Inej simply turned her hand under his to press his handkerchief to his palm. He took it when she pushed herself up to her feet carefully, suddenly brought back to the awareness of the ground underneath her shoes, her skirts swishing around her legs. Inej gathered the fabric and slowly lowered herself on the sofa next to him, all of her senses alert, searching for any type of discomfort. They found none. Only a soft thrill, low in her stomach. Kaz folded the piece of fabric and put it down on the small table next to his leg before turning to her. They looked at each other for a long moment before moving as one, slowly, not knowing who close the gap first. Inej inched nearer and carefully rested her head on his shoulder. One of his arms draped on the back of the sofa when he lifted a hand to brush the tips of his fingers in her hair, his other one finding hers. She felt his cheek press to her forehead, his breath brushing her brow. She closed her eyes, surrounded by that secret smell at the base of his neck, his slightly shaking, but warm body against hers. It felt different, somehow, being so close to him while sitting down. It wasn’t the urgency that pulled them towards each other always – it was softer, quieter. Still, her heart was beating hard in her chest at the intimacy of it, the knowledge that this was one more step, a new realm of possibilities at her fingertips. They stayed silent for a while, listening to each other’s breathing, to the sound of the early spring snow falling outside.
“Rietveld is my real name.”
Inej’s eyes blinked open at the words that reverberated almost louder in his chest than in the room itself, as if they’d been imprisoned there for too long and were scared to get out. His voice was as hushed as a prayer. She didn’t pull back to look at him, scared that if she did he would waver under her scrutiny. She heard the hitch in his breathing when he inhaled, before he spoke again.
“It was my father’s name. And Kazimierz… that’s also real.”
The sounds of his full name were strangely foreign in his rough voice, but somehow, they seemed in their rightful place, too. His accent was different when he said them, his tone smoother than the brutal Ketterdam dialect called for. There was longing in every syllable, but Inej didn’t miss the finality, either. Kaz was talking about himself the same way people talked about the dead.
“My mother chose my name,” he continued, forcing out each word, “since my father chose Jordie’s. It was her own father’s name.”
He stopped, his fingers clenching around hers. He’d been the first one to pronounce her real name in the Menagerie, the name she had thought no one would ever utter again. She’d felt as if something had torn free inside of her, then. He’d offered her a release and a curse, all wrapped up in a few letters, and she’d clutched it to her chest as if her life had depended on it. She’d wanted him to say it again and again until she could believe that it was truly hers. She knew how it felt, to have this anchor ripped away. To feel yourself sink without it.
“A true family name,” Inej whispered, and felt Kaz exhale against her hair at the sound of her voice.
He swallowed, then huffed ruefully.
“Yes. Don’t tell Jesper,” he added, almost self-consciously, and she smiled in the crook of his shoulder.
They’d teased him so much about Llewellyn that it would only be fair for their friend to have his revenge. But Inej suspected that it would be too soon for that just yet. She tilted her chin, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes very, very far away.
“I love it,” she murmured.
Kaz blinked at that and glanced at her, a dry chuckle dying on his lips. He let his head fall on the backrest of the settee with a heavy sigh, one corner of his mouth curving up in a wavering smile.
“I hated it,” he declared, not loud but with a conviction that spoke of a feeling built in the span of many years. “I hated it so much… and then when I was around six or seven my brother started calling me Kaz, and it stuck.”
His voice softened on the last few words and pain flickered in his eyes, staying longer than it usually did. Inej pressed into his side, brushing her thumb over his rough knuckles. She had always struggled to imagine Kaz as a child, before, but now she could start to picture him, like the edges of a drawing slowly coming into focus. She could see the younger version of him in his grin sometimes, when Jesper said something ridiculously funny, or when she took him by surprise. Could glimpse him in the way a laugh would rip out of his throat without his permission, the way he focused on certain tasks, intent, the world vanishing around him. In the way he blushed. She could see him so vividly when he playfully teased her, his dark eyes filled with a knowing mirth, as if he’d learned the art of it from somewhere – from someone.
Kaz turned back to her and Inej held his eyes, held the remnants of the little boy she found in them. The ghost that rested heavy against his heart.
“No one has called me Kazimierz Rietveld in a very long time,” he breathed, the words cracking in his throat.
She buried her face in his neck, her arms wrapping around him tightly. Holding him so he could let go. Maybe it was because she wasn’t looking at him that he was finally able to do so.
“That boy has been dead for a very, very long time.”
Inej could only hold him, after that. It was a while before Kaz returned her embrace but he did eventually, fiercely, a little desperately, his right hand pulling her closer, his other one tangling in her hair. She tucked herself against his chest without a word, wishing she could make the ache twisting there vanish, knowing, also, that it was impossible. Nothing could. For the first time in a long time, Inej wished she was taller, broader, so she could shield him from it. In the end, she could only offer who she was – and somehow, it was enough. Kaz held on to her without a sound, a storm raging inside of him, and she didn’t let go. She didn’t let go when he ran his hands through her hair, over and over again, as if the touch soothed him. Didn’t let go when he started to unwind around her, becoming even warmer and looser, their bodies intimately melting into one another. She still held on to him as her eyelids drooped and his fingers gently brushed her cheek, the rhythm of his breath slowing down in his chest under her. She was still holding him when they both fell asleep, cramped on the little sofa together despite the massive bed a few feet away, his coat pulled over them both to keep warm.
When Inej’s eyes blinked open a few hours later, she tensed all over at the feeling of arms around her, breath gently brushing her hair. At the Menagerie, very few men liked to stay once they were done using her, ready to discard her like the worthless thing she was to them, but the ones who did were often the worst kind. There was nothing she wanted more than to be alone, afterwards, to stop acting and just be herself, no matter how deep her sorrow or how short the respite. She’d hated them the most because they’d clung to her, stolen even more from her, more of her she wasn’t ready to give. She’d never fallen asleep next to one of these men on the ridiculous bed in her room, had only waited until their arms had loosened enough to free herself. But the arms around her now, as she woke up in the early morning light coming in from the window, were not clingy, nor tight. Her heart thumping in her chest, Inej slowly pushed herself up on her elbows, more and more awake by the second. She could feel panic rising inside of her at once, making her breath shallower and her throat tight, until her eyes fell on Kaz’s face, illuminated by the reflection of the first sunrays on the fresh snow outside. It took a moment for her brain to understand what she was seeing, her mind halfway to the muddled corner it ran to whenever memories of the Menagerie seized her, but then it did, sudden as snapping fingers. Relief rushed through Inej, the sheer strength of it making her vision blur. She felt once more the soft fabric of her mother’s beloved tahru against her legs, so different from the ghost of the stifling lynx silks she despised. Her knives were pressing into her skin, their shapes and weight comforting. The names of her Saints appeared in her mind, banishing the shadows threatening to take hold of her.
Inej looked at the details of Kaz’s face, her pulse still thundering in her ears, and suddenly became attuned to the entirety of his presence around her. His arms had slid from her shoulders to her waist, resting there, weighted and loosened by sleep. He must have been even more tired than he’d appeared a few hours ago, considering the fact that she hadn’t woken him up by moving. Everyone was a light sleeper in the Barrel, no one more than him, she suspected – you didn’t survive that long if you weren’t. Kaz’s brows were slightly furrowed, his face still paler than usual. His breath wasn’t exactly even but it was deep, making his entire upper body shift under her every time he inhaled and exhaled quietly. It was because she was watching him so closely, fascinated, the sight of him keeping her steady despite the strange feelings battling in her chest, that Inej felt it when his breath hitched. The frown on his face deepened and he made a soft protesting sound in the back of his throat, turning his head towards the backrest of the sofa as if he wanted to escape the light. His eyelids fluttered half open.
“Inej?” he mumbled, and suddenly she had to fight the urge to laugh or cry, she couldn’t tell.
Laugh, because she’d never thought she would witness Kaz Brekker muttering against pillows, his hair a mess, his serious face mussed by sleep. Cry, because the way he’d said her name, quiet and low, was at once so new and so familiar that it made her feel as if her heart was too big for her chest.
“Yes?” Inej answered on a wavering breath.
He tensed under her at her tone, blinking his eyes more forcefully as if to chase the sleep out of them. His hands shifted carefully around her waist, over his coat. None of their skin touching.
“Are you alright?” he asked, clearer than before but still a little softer than his usual voice.
Inej decided that she loved half awake Kaz, probably more than she should. She gently spread her fingers open over his shirt, smiling when she felt his slow, steady heartbeat underneath her palms.
“Yes,” she whispered, and meant every letter. “It’s still too early to wake up now. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m fine,” he replied, absolutely not convincingly, since his eyes were closing again out of their own volition.
Inej chuckled and decisively laid her head back against his chest so he wouldn’t try to get up. Kaz grumbled incomprehensively but didn’t protest further, apparently accepting his fate in his half-conscious state. His arms went back around her shoulders, not holding too tight, gently pulling his coat up to cover her back. She listened to the rhythm of his heart under her ear, lulling, hypnotic, the slow movement of his breathing rocking her the same way the waves did at sea. Still, Inej knew that unlike him, she wouldn’t fall asleep again. She wasn’t uncomfortable, but her body was too acutely aware of Kaz’s sharp angles, of the places where their clothed limbs rested against one another. Despite his warmth, and his smell, and the way she knew some of him as well as she knew herself, it was too much. Her senses were painfully sensitive, unease prickling her spine. She knew that if she hadn’t seen his face, if the room had been pitch black, she would’ve vanished in an instant. But still, Inej didn’t move, at first uncertain of whether she was frozen there, or stubbornly refusing to answer to the familiar urge to run. The more she stayed, the clearer it became. Underneath it all, under the fear twisting her stomach and making her heart race, there was something new. And whatever it was, she simply didn’t want to let it go.