all these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret

by sarathedreamer

Summary:

Kaz had to admit the traffickers were surprisingly clever – for thick-skulled pirates, at least. He had not expected to be ambushed on the site of his future textile manufacture out of town. Or, well, what was supposed to be the site of his new project. Seeing as he’d been set up, it seemed he would need to find a new abandoned warehouse to repurpose. It was an annoying detail that would have to wait, however, since he was presently tied up to a chair.

Inej's enemies capture Kaz to lure her in a trap. It doesn't end well for them.

Notes:

A very special thank you to _samalander for helping me come up with the textile manufacture idea, because as always, I struggle with plot detailsTM. And thank you to Lia for beta reading and cheering me on!

Kaz took the next blow to his jaw without so much as a groan, the impact of the brass knuckles making his head ring. Distantly, he wondered how many of them he’d endured so far. He’d lost count hours ago.

Kaz had to admit the traffickers were surprisingly clever – for thick-skulled pirates, at least. He had not expected to be ambushed on the site of his future textile manufacture out of town. Or, well, what was supposed to be the site of his new project. Seeing as he’d been set up, it seemed he would need to find a new abandoned warehouse to repurpose. It was an annoying detail that would have to wait, however, since he was presently tied up to a chair.

The shackles were Fabrikator-made, a sort of metal contraption that had no lock. At least his reputation preceded him, even as far as the True Sea. Kaz had come to the warehouse two days ago with lockpicks up his sleeve – he always carried some on him, whether he was on the floor of his clubs, in the streets of the Staves, or in Inej’s room at the Van Eck house – but they would have been of little use to him now, even if the traffickers hadn’t confiscated them along with his cane and pistol. Only the Fabrikator, standing in a corner, his eyes riveted to Kaz’s hands as if he thought Kaz would miraculously find a way to free himself from his contraption, could open the shackles. Presumably. The man did not look too confident. Kaz flexed his gloved fingers from time to time, just to see him sweat a little bit more. He figured that if worse came to worst, Jesper could probably find a way to crack the shackles open (though Kaz suspected he might leave him in them just a little while longer, too happy to have finally found a pair Kaz couldn’t best).

He refused to regret not bringing Jesper with him on his errand. His friend had other things to do than being caught up in Kaz’s schemes these days. He’d offered to accompany him nonetheless, presenting the little trip down the western canal line as a good opportunity for bonding conversation – Kaz had wrinkled his nose at that – but then been reminded by Wylan that he had contracts to look over for the orphanage. Kaz waved his hand, telling Jesper he’d prefer the silence over his rambling anyway. His friend joyfully wished him a good hour of glaring at the ugly landscape of factories and silos, and that was that.

After two days of being tied up to a chair, fed only a tiny amount of some disgusting slop and allowed to piss in a bucket every few hours, Kaz was just starting to wonder if the textile manufacture would be worth it. Producing fine quality fabric he could then sell for a pretty penny to the rich merchers of the city was not a cause he could see himself becoming passionate about, after all. He had to admit it made good cash, though. That he could get behind.

He knew that Inej would say his greed had gotten him in this predicament. She wouldn’t be wrong, but he wouldn’t repent for that either.

Truly, though, Kaz was not too worried yet – he’d faced far worse. He only had to last long enough until his gang figured out which of the fifteen or so abandoned warehouses he was in. From what he could gather from the floorplan of the place, he’d been moved to a different warehouse than the one he’d been trying to purchase. Pim or Anika or Roede would probably think to look around once they figured that much out. It had been two days, to be fair, but he enjoyed not being disturbed enough that the closed door of his office could have delayed them realizing he was not there. He suspected his absence at the recon meeting yesterday was more likely to tip them off. But if Kaz’s entire gang happened to be particularly useless for two days straight, he only had to wait until Jesper and Wylan came to pester him about having supper with them, as they were bound to do sooner or later. It happened at least once a week.

No, what worried Kaz the most was that the first thing the traffickers had told him once he’d come back to – they’d knocked him unconscious with a hit on the back of his head the second he’d stepped into the warehouse – was that he was here to bait the captain of the Wraith.

“Once she gets here, we’ll show that cursed woman and her crew exactly what they deserve,” growled Marshak, slitting his eyes at Kaz.

Kaz leaned over the arm of his chair and spat out blood before turning back towards the pirate captain, schooling his face into as impassive a mask as he could. This was the third meeting he’d had with the man, and those repeated threats were really starting to grate on his nerves.

“You seem very confident this whole endeavour of yours will draw her here,” he drawled. “Are you always so dramatic when trying to catch a lady’s attention?”

The man had a Ravkan accent, and so did most of his crew. Besides the Fabrikator, standing in the main room where he was detained were Brass Knuckles, a burly man who was responsible for the blood trickling all over Kaz’s face, and Rat’s Teeth, the twitchy little bastard who’d pretended to be a clerk of the building company Kaz had dealt with. The rest of the crew was scattered around the warehouse, their shuffling steps and low voices echoing in the huge space. Kaz would guess there were about twenty of them all together, keeping watch – ready for trouble.

“She will come,” the captain barked for what was probably the twentieth time.

Kaz rolled his eyes as best he could. “How long will you believe that, I wonder. You see, I have a business meeting at eight bells, and I’d hate to miss it.”

His head spun, sending a wave of nausea through his gut. Kaz knew he should probably be worried about that, but he wouldn’t let himself be distracted by the state of his body. Not when they were threatening Inej to his face. Not when they were trying to use him to spring a trap around her.

“If the Wraith truly is on her way from Bhez Ju as you claim,” Kaz kept on going, “then it will take her at least another day to get here.”

Inej had been in Shu Han, according to her latest missive, and it would actually take her around another three to four hours only to make it to Ketterdam, if her Squallers worked over time. If she’d believed the missive and dropped everything to come to his aid. Kaz hoped she hadn’t – he wanted her safe and as far away from these enemies as possible. Deep down, he knew those were probably foolish hopes. Knives drawn, pistols blazing. Inej never broke her promises.

“It would have been far simpler to meet her out at sea,” he heard himself say, instead of keeping his mouth shut. “Unless this sorry lot you call a crew is as useless out there as they are here.”

Brass Knuckles tightened his fist around his namesake and Kaz stared him down, daring him to hit him again. The man had a temper, and his captain was only too happy to let him take it out on Kaz the second he’d started being snarky with them. Truly, what had they expected – they couldn’t tie him up to a chair for two days and think he wouldn’t get bored. One day, you’ll run your mouth all the way to your grave, sighed Inej in his mind. Kaz internally scoffed. He’d make his way to the reaper’s barge kicking and punching and biting too, thank you very much.

Don’t come, he begged her in his mind. Don’t do the honourable thing, for once.  

“I know she used to be your precious little spider,” Marshak said, ignoring the insult. “And I know she’s not done watching your back.”

Kaz sighed, ignoring the way his spine stiffened, the way his heart pounded and pounded in his chest.

“And as I’ve told you – multiple times, might I add – the Wraith and I are business partners. If you’ve told her you have me, threatened to kill me, then she’ll cut her losses and find business elsewhere.”

The captain tilted his head, his dirty, stiff beard twitching as he observed him.

“How disloyal.”

Traffickers concerning themselves with lack of loyalty. He’d seen it all.

“Welcome to Ketterdam,” Kaz deadpanned.

Marshak stepped closer, leaning towards Kaz until he could smell the man’s sour breath.

“Do you know why I’m still waiting, Brekker?” the captain asked.

“Because you prefer to hide in this dusty warehouse rather than facing your problems head on?”

“Because I know you’re lying through your teeth.”

Kaz smirked. The cut on his upper lip stung.

“In my line of work, I’ve learned that only desperate people keep on stubbornly convincing themselves of what they believe in when faced with facts they don’t like.”

Marshak huffed dismissively, but Kaz could tell he was annoyed. Good. That made two of them.

“You think you're being clever with me, Brekker, denying that the woman will come to your aid. But I have my sources, and they would not lie to me.”

Who these sources were was what Kaz wanted to know, but he wouldn’t be foolish enough to ask. He had spent the better part of two days and a half mentally reviewing each member of Inej’s crew, each one of his Dregs, each of Wylan’s employees, trying to find the weak link in their carefully picked entourage. He’d reviewed their backgrounds, their actions, their motivations, down to the smallest, most insignificant details he had. He still had no idea who could’ve tipped off the crew of the Black Squire about him and Inej.

It couldn’t be just anyone either, Kaz knew. He and Inej were not foolish – they were always discreet. Flaunting one’s romantic relationship never ended well in the Barrel. He’d never discussed Inej with any member of his gang – not that any of them would dare ask. But, the nagging little voice whispered in the back of Kaz’s mind again, he’d never exactly dismissed the rumours, either. He knew some of them talked and, over the years, he’d stop monitoring what was said as rigorously as he had in the beginning. He’d figured that, since he would never confirm or deny anything, the gossip would die down eventually. Maybe that was where he’d miscalculated.

More than half of Inej’s crew were survivors of human trafficking themselves, so it was unlikely the tip had come from them. Besides, only Jem and Imke, her seconds, knew exactly why the ship docked in Ketterdam every few months in the summer and for the winter, and they were loyal to a fault. But Kaz had travelled on the ship a few times himself, had slept in Inej’s quarters, and met her at the docks twice, when she’d arrived early enough that there was no one to see him at berth twenty-two. Could one of the sailors he knew less be the culprit? Why would any of them try to help the very system they fought against, day in, day out? If Brass Knuckles hadn’t done it already, Kaz would have had to fight the urge to hit himself over the head in frustration. When he saw Inej again, he would make her repeat everything she knew about the members of her crew until they were both sick of it. That was a romantic evening to look forward to.

Wylan’s staff was sparse – two maids, one cook, one chief of staff. They’d been picked very carefully, and sworn to discretion, with the added bonus that Kaz and Inej knew enough about all of them to blackmail them should it be necessary. Wylan had objected to that practice at first, honest little merch that he was, but the safety of his mother was what finally convinced him. Despite knowing each of their secrets – of which there admittedly were few – Kaz couldn’t find any motivation there either. Inej was always kind to the man and three women, so much so that he suspected they would eat out of the palm of her hand like the crows at his window. And he avoided them as a rule, so they couldn’t possibly have something to hold against him.

Kaz was used to being one step ahead, always. There was nothing he hated more than coming up short.

He leaned back in the chair as much as he could, forcing his shoulders to relax.

“Let me give you another lesson I’ve learned in this city, Marshak. Sources can never be as trusted as your own two eyes.”

The captain smiled sardonically.

“Very generous of you, Mr. Brekker. And how about the members of your gang? Can they be trusted?”

Kaz scoffed.

“Thieves and liars and ruffians, all of them. You can never completely trust us Barrel rats. But I assume you of all people would know something about ugly bastards,” he retorted, shooting a meaningful glance towards Brass Knuckles.

The man glared at him. Kaz gave him his most winning smile - bloodied, sharp as a shark’s. The Fabrikator in the corner swallowed visibly.

“You could say I know how to keep your Barrel rats busy, yes,” the captain replied roughly, but Kaz had stopped listening.

There was a tingle at the back of his neck. He blinked a few times, certain he’d imagined the sensation. Surely, he had. He was not thinking straight. Too many blows to the head.

Kaz narrowed his eyes at Marshak when what he’d said registered. “What is that supposed to mean?”

It was his captor’s turn to smile. He ignored the man’s gloating, resisting the urge to search the shadows with his eyes. Crossing over from Shu Han couldn’t possibly be that quick, even with two Squallers.

“Let’s just say your gang might be… distracted, at the moment.”

Kaz tilted his head, but he was not really considering what Marshak was implying – his Dregs were thieves and liars and ruffians, and they could own their own in a fight against the entire city if needed. His absence would probably just make the outcome messier. Instead of focusing on that, Kaz tried to listen. The heavy footsteps of the twenty men surrounding them. The distant rumbling of machinery not too far away. There. The whistling of the wind through an open window.

“Are you planning on sending more of this lovely cargo their way?” Kaz asked, talking to the captain but raising his brows at the man who’d possibly dislodged a few of his back teeth. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to discuss some of the rumours they’ve heard about his mother.”

Brass Knuckles took two steps towards him, grunting, but the captain raised a hand to stop him. No matter. It had created the distraction Kaz needed – truly, this was too easy.

He flicked his eyes towards the ceiling and saw, against all odds, the shadows shift.

“You better hope the Wraith is as taken with you as I was made to believe,” Marshak said, apparently satisfied with himself. “Otherwise, you’re on your own, Mr. Brekker.”

Kaz refrained a grin, solidifying his grip on the arms of the chair as much as he could with the shackles on.

“Oh, I doubt she is. She’s too reasonable to be swayed by my charming personality and dashing looks.”

He would never know what Marshak was about to reply to that, because Inej chose this exact moment to drop from the ceiling, as silent as a ghost. The three traffickers surrounding him froze.

“Hello, darling,” Kaz said agreeably.

The bloodbath that followed would have given any other man nightmares. 

Before the captain could have the satisfaction of confirming that Kaz had been lying to him all along, Inej hurled one of her saints at him. It lodged itself into his left thigh, making him topple down like a big sack of Ravkan potatoes. He was screaming before he even hit the ground, but Inej was a blur, already dodging the fist Brass Knuckles aimed at her face. She rolled away from a second attack and pushed herself upright again, stabbing him in the shin from behind. The man growled and kicked, but Inej jumped on his back, neatly slitting his throat in one quick motion. Blood gushed from his throat with a gargling sound. She stepped on his shoulders as he fell forward and used the momentum to run straight into Rat’s Teeth, sending him crashing to the ground underneath her.

The rest of Marshak’s crew was running towards the scene, heavy steps echoing in the empty warehouse. Kaz pushed himself up to his feet and lifted the chair on his back, counting them as they appeared.

Five. He gathered as much momentum as he could and smashed the chair against the wall. The two back legs flew off.

Ten. Inej stabbed Rat’s Teeth in his gut, her jaw tight and her eyes hard as flint.

Twelve. Kaz ignored the tightening of the shackles on his wrists. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Fabrikator inching away along the wall, fleeing the fight.

Fifteen. Inej threw two other knives, then whipped out the cutlass she’d recently added to her arsenal.

Eighteen. The men started surrounding her. Kaz ran the chair into the wall again, breaking the seat in half.

Twenty-one. With his arms still tied to the arms of the chair, Kaz kicked at the last two legs, splintering them into sharp pieces. He grabbed one in each hand and rolled his wrists, gritting his teeth. The metal was biting into his skin.

He’d lost count, but it didn’t seem to matter much. Inej was dancing amidst the men like a storm, untouchable, leaving blood in her wake. Kaz almost started to laugh. Why had he spent two days begging her not to come? These pirates were no match for her. He limped forward and hit one of them on the back of the head with a piece of chair leg. His skull snapped open with a satisfying crack. He ducked to avoid a fist, then smashed the nose of his new opponent with the thick metal of one shackle. The man screamed, hands flying to his face, and Kaz kicked him in the gut. He spun the chair leg sharp side up and rammed it in the trafficker’s throat when he bent forward from the impact.

He missed the familiar weight of his cane and pistol, but at least the damn chair he’d been tied to for two days was coming in handy.

Inej caught his eye for a fraction of a second and Kaz grinned at her, viciously making his way towards her through the melee. His head was spinning, blood was running down his cheeks and into his mouth, but adrenaline was pumping through his veins and they were fighting side by side. Those were his favourite kinds of battles.

He saw her take a hit to the ribs, saw her slash back with her cutlass and a vengeance. Kaz fought off a sailor who tried to topple him from behind, hitting him square in the chest with the two chair legs by ramming them underneath his arms. He redoubled his efforts to reach Inej in the fray step by step, his bad knee screaming at him, his leg shaking underneath his weight. The traffickers were doing their best to keep them apart, but they were both dirty fighters who’d learned their tricks in the streets, not ex-soldiers or navies with some meager remnant of honour, and they struck with every chance they got. Kaz choked a man with his shackles and threw him to the ground. His vision was starting to swim dangerously – too many hits to the head, he thought again, but he kept pushing forward. Inej slashed a man’s guts open then rammed Sankt Petyr in another’s eye. One sailor, already on the ground, his leg split open and bleeding out, lifted a pistol and aimed it straight at her head, his thumb cocking the gun, and before Kaz could shout in warning, a shot rang out.

The sailor’s head turned into a mess on the warehouse floor and Inej kicked at a man’s knee without so much as a pause, making him fall down with a scream. Jem, their pistol still smoking, aimed again and shot two other traffickers, charging into the warehouse with the single-minded determination of a cannonball, Inej’s crew in tow. Kaz took in a ragged gasp of air, faint dark spots appearing in the edges of his vision, and spun around to smack another enemy directly in the jaw, sending wood splinters flying. He caught the man’s knife in the air and stabbed another with it, baring his teeth as the bastard’s blade nicked his cheekbone – too close. Kaz shoved the man off, the movement almost making him lose his balance and topple backwards. One of Jem’s bullets found the trafficker’s throat, and then everything stood still.

The fight couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes. Kaz turned and found Inej, dislodging a man from her blade with a disgusted snarl. The corpse fell to the ground and she lifted her eyes to his, finding him as easily as he found her in the dark. Relief immediately softened her features, taking over savagery in an instant. She was panting, her right shoulder bloody.

“Kaz,” she breathed.

He felt himself reeling, to hear his name in her voice after so many months apart. Or maybe it was the blood loss. Suddenly, Inej’s eyes sharpened again and she moved, so fast he barely registered the blade flying a few inches away from his face. Kaz startled and turned around. Marshak dropped his pistol to the ground with a scream, Sankta Marya protruding from his forearm.

“You,” Inej hissed, wild pieces of hair dancing around her face as she started forward. “You stay put.”

She engaged the quick release of both sheaths on her wrists, the blades tumbling into her hands. One of them found the captain’s other hand. The other pinned the tunic of the Fabrikator to the wall.

Inej was on him before Kaz could even blink. Everything seemed to be moving too fast around him. He felt as if his brain could not keep up.

“No, no,” the grisha begged, desperately pulling at the knife and trying to set himself free. “Please, please no!”

Inej yanked the knife free and grabbed him by the collar. She spun them around so the man was facing Kaz, his eyes wild as she pressed her blade to his throat.

“Free him,” she all but growled, “and I might let you live.”

The Fabrikator whimpered and she tightened her grip. Slowly, he lifted his trembling hands and Kaz felt the shackles loosen around his wrists. The mechanism inside of them clicked open, the thick metal bands falling to the floor with a dull thud. Kaz swallowed his next intake of air with more relief than he would dare to admit.

Inej closed her eyes, the smallest of respite, a furrow between her brows. Kaz saw the moment she took her decision and asked her Saints for forgiveness. Then, she ran her knife across the Fabrikator’s throat in one quick, neat motion. The man fell to the ground without a sound. She looked down at him, swallowing hard.

“Wraith,” Marshak rasped, pain and his thick accent distorting the name like a curse.

Inej straightened and rolled her shoulders back, but this time, Kaz was faster. He reached the man first, stepping on his chest with his foot and pressing down, hard. The captain’s eyes were glazed. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, his fingers trembling inches away from his pistol. Kaz leaned forward slowly, ignoring his leg’s sharp protest. The man grimaced as Kaz’s weight made one of his ribs crack underneath his boot.

“Now, don’t be so glum, Marshak,” Kaz said reproachfully, his voice even as if he was scolding a small, petulant child. “You wanted to meet my wife, and you have.”

He could feel Inej standing next to him – his faithful shadow, his captain. For the first time in two days, he found his heart was easy.

“You can console yourself on the reaper's barge knowing you accomplished that much.”

Marshak’s eyes widened in fear. Kaz took the bloodied gun he was so desperately reaching for.

Then, he loaded the man’s own pistol and shot him in the head, before everything went dark.

 

Kaz was turned over on his back and then Inej’s face appeared, just in focus enough for him to see the worried expression on her face, her eyes wide and searching. The small pieces of hair at her temples looked as if they’d been dipped in blood, her braid a mess. There were flecks of scarlet on her brown skin, on her cheekbone and over her brows. She was beautiful. His dangerous, dangerous girl.

“Hi,” he croaked, his voice cracking on the lone syllable.

“Hush, don’t talk. Please, just focus on staying awake.”

Distantly, Kaz could hear Jem barking orders – something about searching the place, making sure all the traffickers were dead or accounted for. He tried to move and winced, his entire head throbbing and spinning. There was blood in his mouth and in his eyes, and a ringing in his ears.

“I came as fast as I could,” Inej said, gently pushing a piece of hair off his forehead.

She had the kind of perturbed look that always made him see red, made him want to find who was responsible and make them pay. Belatedly, he realized he was, at least in part. She made him turn his head to look at his wounds, and he gasped as the pads of her fingers found a particularly wicked bruise. His vision faltered again.

“Oh, Saints,” she whispered under her breath, her voice shaking. “Vesta!”

Kaz forced his eyes open as she leaned forward to part his hair and examine his skull, searching for other injuries. The movement made the little ring on a chain around Inej’s neck fall out of the opening of her shirt. He watched the small gold band winking at him in the dusty afternoon light, a perfect match to the larger one hidden underneath his left glove. His thumb mechanically went to his ring finger, feeling the metal wrapped around its base. The leather was just starting to get worn in that specific spot, between his knuckle and his palm.

“I called you my wife,” he mumbled. “I think your crew might’ve heard.”

“What?”

Inej looked down at him again, cupping his cheek in her hand. Her calluses rasped against his skin, but her palm was cool to the touch, and when she held him steady, he was able to meet her eyes without feeling like he was going to vomit everywhere.

“I called you my wife,” he repeated, the words slurring together.

Inej made a strange, strangled sound that was almost a laugh.

“Well, I am your wife, you podge.”

He frowned, trying to remember where he’d been going with this.

“Was supposed to be a secret,” Kaz remembered, then winced again when steps came closer and seemed to resonate in his skull.

“Never mind that now,” Inej said soothingly, her thumb stroking his temple. Then, a bit more urgently, “Vesta, his head. Do you think you can help?”

A girl’s face appeared upside down over his. She had skin as dark as Jesper’s and a halo of wild curls. Kaz blinked. It was the only movement his sluggish body seemed to be able to muster in protest at the interruption.

“Oh shit,” the girl declared, eloquently, then raised her hands in a gesture that reminded him of Nina.

Warmth filled Kaz’s entire body, strange and slightly uncomfortable, leaving just the tiniest sting in its wake. The strange feeling made his fingers twitch. They found the side of Inej’s thigh, warm and familiar. He focused on that contact as the Healer’s magic coursed through him. Between that and the Fabrikator, Kaz thought he’d had enough of grisha nonsense for a whole month at the least.

“It’s alright, Captain,” Vesta said after a few moments, turning to Inej. “It looks worse than it actually is.”

“Excuse me?” Kaz managed to groan, affronted, and then the pain started to fade.

In the span of a few blinks, his head cleared and his vision returned to normal, the pain in his face dissolving to a bearable ache. He frowned and moved his jaw tentatively, testing the muscles and bones. It was as if the brass knuckles had never happened.

Fine, maybe he could tolerate Healers well enough.

“Now be careful with that head,” Vesta warned him sternly, standing up. “It’ll be fragile for a few days.”

The girl couldn’t be more than eighteen. Kaz glared at her from his prime position on the floor.

“Thank you,” Inej sighed in a rush, and then he forgot all about stuffy teenage Healers, because his wife took him by the collar of his ruined jacket and pulled him up into her arms.

Kaz closed his eyes and sagged into her, her crew, the traffickers and the warehouse fading away around them. For a moment, he found he couldn’t have cared less if the entire city was watching them hold on to each other – her warmth, her embrace and her solid, tangible presence felt too good for his survival instincts to take over. Inej clutched his dusty clothes, shaking, pressing him to her strong body as if she was belatedly trying to shield him from danger. He wrapped his sluggish arms around her slender waist, returning the gesture as best he could. Her heart was thundering underneath his ear. He nuzzled his face in the crook of her shoulder and breathed her in deeply.

“We sailed so fast,” Inej choked out. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know if you—”

“I’m alright,” he murmured gently against her neck, shifting his hands to her back to hold her better. “I’m alright.”

She nodded jerkily, relaxing her iron grip around him slightly as the words settled in. Kaz listened to her breathe, warm and whole and safe against him.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a while. “For coming for me.”

Inej huffed, her fingers sliding in his hair and turning his insides into hutspot. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Kaz smirked. “I got hit pretty badly on the head, despite what that girl said,” he remarked pointedly. “I think I’m allowed some idiocy.”

She let out a breathless chuckle at that.

“I couldn’t risk it,” she said, her voice small but firm. 

“I know,” Kaz replied before she could dare him to contradict her.

He would have done the same, knowing all the while how foolish it was. He couldn’t blame her for it. Besides, even if he somehow decided to be stupid enough to berate her – his wife did not have his temper, but he knew what awaited him if he ignored that tone of hers – what could he possibly say? Their enemies were lying dead around them. Kaz knew she would’ve never let them win.

Inej started to pull away, slowly, and as much as he wanted to tighten his hold around her, Kaz let her go reluctantly. She looked him over once more, her eyes lingering on the cuts and bruises on his face, and he stared at her too. He couldn’t quite believe she was here. He was usually allowed a few days to prepare himself – a missive informing him of her arrival, his anticipation building in his waking and sleeping hours, his longing dreams vivid until reality caught up to them. It was quite another thing to suddenly have her in front of him in the blink of an eye, the sight of her, bloody and radiant and real, almost too much.

Kaz knew he was probably being an idiot. He didn’t care. He wanted to stare at her like drunken moths stared at flames, until she consumed him completely.

Someone pointedly cleared their throat. Kaz blinked and turned with a glare. Jem was standing two steps away, handing him his cane crow handle first.

“Sorry to interrupt,” they said, a slight smirk somehow diminishing their apology, then inclined their head in greeting. “Brekker.”

Kaz took his cane, nodding back sharply.

“Jem.”

Inej pushed to her feet as her second-in-command handed Kaz his pistol as well, her burgundy summer jacket billowing around her as she did so. Kaz followed suit with a bit less elegance, then dusted himself off and cracked his neck. Back to business, then. He tried very hard not to stare too long again as Inej swung her braid over her shoulder and turned to Jem.

“None left alive, Captain,” the sailor declared evenly. “I’d say well done, but I know you’d scold me for it.”

Kaz raised a brow. “She does that to you, too?”

“Deaths are not something to be congratulated on,” Inej said sternly. 

Jem caught Kaz’s eye, lifting their brows in a are you hearing this? manner. Once, Kaz had heard them say to Inej that she had the mind of an old philosopher in a bloodthirsty pirate’s body. She’d taken it as a compliment. Inej gave Jem the type of glare she’d learned from Kaz, who tried very hard not to smirk.

“We should probably head out,” her second carried on, wisely. “Imke will be waiting for us, and we’ll have to deal with the girl.”

Inej sighed heavily. When she opened her eyes again, Kaz read in them something that looked a little too much like dread.

“What girl?” he asked.

Inej and Jem shared a look. Kaz raised a brow.

“The one who sent us on this—” Jem hesitated, gesturing, then completed in a huff, “whole thing.”

“The threatening to hold me captive and kill me thing?” Kaz translated flatly.

A muscle ticked in Inej’s jaw, distracting him from his murderous thoughts. She nodded.

“We thought we’d saved her in Novyi Zem, with the others the Eighth Wind had captured. But turns out she was on that ship for another reason entirely,” she said, frustration evident in her tone.

The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

“Marshak’s source. You were in Novyi Zem four months ago.”

“Apparently long enough for her to find out something she shouldn’t,” Inej added through gritted teeth. “And send him a letter when we docked in Shu Han.”

Kaz could taste the bitterness of guilt in her voice. He flexed his fingers on the crow head of his cane, refraining from reaching for hers – there would be time for that later.

“I’ll gather everyone, so we can meet Imke at Sixth Harbour,” Jem said.

They turned and did just that, ever efficient. Inej started for the door, Kaz close on her heels. The crew parted around them, nodding at their captain and throwing cautiously curious stares his way. He imagined they made quite the pair; Inej, clad in her colourful clothes, gloriously flushed from battle; him in his black suit, dishevelled, his face a bloody mess.

“I guess I won’t have to find excuses to explain why we always come back to Fifth Harbour anymore,” Inej sighed dryly once they were out.

The too-sweet breeze of his city playing in his hair, Kaz looked back over his shoulder. Two women were still looking at them, clearly putting together the cane, the gloves, the sharp black suit. Yes, his reputation did precede him, even as far as the True Sea. Kaz smirked at the sailors, who promptly looked away.

“Sorry for calling you my wife.”

When he turned back to her, Inej shot him a look from the corner of her eye, sharp as a dagger.

“If you apologize for that again, I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“With your teeth?” Kaz asked, interested. “Please.”

She snorted.

“You’re incorrigible.”

He hummed absently, a smile playing on his lips. The city always looked a little cleaner, a little brighter, when she was threading its broken cobblestones by his side.

“I’ll have to go check on the Dregs when we’re back in the Barrel. Something Marshak said.”

Inej nodded, then winced, raising a hand to her bloodied shoulder.

“You should have your Healer look at that,” Kaz said, jerking his chin towards her clavicle.

Inej smiled at him sideways, a fond, little thing that was just begging to be kissed right off her lips. “Don’t fret,” she teased. “It’s just a scratch.”

“I’m not… fretting,” Kaz grumbled.

Inej chuckled, then twirled around so she was walking backwards in front of him, a bounce in her step to keep up with his longer strides. Her smile turned mischievous.

“I was thinking, actually… maybe you could have a look – if you care to.”

Kaz had the sudden urge to clear his throat. Inej’s smile turned into a smirk. She shrugged innocently.

“Only if you’re amenable.”

He scoffed, already picturing her in the dim light of her cabin, her braid undone, pulling that nice burgundy jacket off. He started walking faster, making her laugh.

“I won’t dignify that with an answer. But won’t that make the rumours worse, Captain?”

Inej stopped dead in her tracks, forcing Kaz to do the same. He almost ran straight into her, and wouldn't have that been a sight to behold for her crew. She looked up at him, her dark eyes suddenly serious and steady.

“I think maybe I could take that risk.”

That was not what he was expecting her to say. Inej seemed to read the surprise on his face, because she kept on going.

“I’m not saying we should put it in the papers’ gossip column. But whether we like it or not, these rumours are years old at this point, and they’re not dying out. And I–”

“Don’t say you’re sorry for what happened,” Kaz interrupted, firmly.

She huffed, shaking her head at him.

“But I am. I’m sorry you got ambushed,” Inej specified, before he could say a word, “but I’m not sorry I love you. And I’m not sorry if people know it, or if they think they know it.”

She held his gaze, her own blazing with the hint of stubbornness he loved so much.

“They can come for us,” she said, softer, but sure. “We’ll go after them, same as we’ve always done.”

Kaz smiled, then leaned forward, watching her from underneath his lashes. “I’ll say I agree, because if you keep on going, they’ll definitely have something to write about in the papers’ gossip column,” he confessed, his voice low.

Inej smiled at that, the sight like sun rays parting clouds. “Already getting carried away, I see.”

“What can I say?” Kaz sighed, straightening up. “I missed you.”

“And I you, dear husband,” she replied, and he was glad they’d stopped walking, so he didn’t miss a step to hear her say it so easily.

They made their way to her ship in companionable banter and easy silence, stealing glances at each other. And if their hands brushed from time to time as they walked close to one another, no one would dare try to confirm or deny it.

Notes:

There's nothing I love to write more than some angst, some unhinged-bad-ass Inej Ghafa and some fluff, what can I say <3 (also, they're married!!!! aaahhhh!!!!)

Let me know your thoughts and favorite part if you have one in the comments!! Thank you for reading <3