Chapter Text
The weather didn’t get much better the next day. It was warmer but the drizzle turned into a full-fledged spring shower, and Kaz was almost glad of the pile of paperwork waiting on him on his desk downstairs, barring him from haunting the Barrel’s alleys and his establishments for once. His leg was giving him hell already, and he’d barely walked since morning.
It was silent, too. The rain and the early afternoon hour meant most of the Dregs were either stuck at their jobs in the Crow Club or lounging away in cafes, bars or their rooms. Other than Roeder stopping by to tell him some interesting news and hand a much-welcome invitation, he’d been blissfully undisturbed. Kaz had scanned the card, smirked and set it aside like a dessert for when he was done with the numbers.
The work also meant he had a solid reason to pause his ridiculous promenades to the Geldinstraat for a day. Not that he had any excuses left: Alys’s question was resolved, which meant Bajan with all the distress he could’ve caused was safely out of the picture. Inej was increasingly more busy getting ready for her departure, and the little project he’d initiated with Wylan and Jesper seemed to be going smoothly without his constant supervision. So he could stay in the Slat and finally go through the books.
He was surprised at the mixed feelings this realization caused. Being in Inej’s presence had become a hundredfold more precious now when she wasn’t constantly around, was about to slip out of his city altogether soon, and some irreparably broken part of him still believed she’d be leaving for good. Jesper’s absence was even more unignorable than his presence, who would’ve thought. And he’d just come to find Wylan’s attempts to talk back to him amusing.
At the same time, he’d been getting overwhelmed. Being constantly in someone’s company just for the sake of it was a strange feeling, one Kaz had never thought he would have to get reacquainted with. The last constant presence of someone in his life not motivated by profit had ended in disaster, and he was pretty sure that at some point he’d vowed not to walk into the same trap again. Here he was, though, and yet he could at least have the presence of mind to take the time off when he needed it.
Look who’s getting soft at the ripe age of seventeen. Kaz rolled his eyes at himself, closing a folder with the Club’s expenses for the previous month. He’ll have to do the taxes by the end of the week. You could get away with a body count of a small war in Ketterdam, but not with neglecting the Merchant Council’s coffins. Of course, there was a second ledger, but no one would get a hand on it as it solely existed in Kaz’s head.
The evening before, he’d buried his nose in his coat’s collar the moment the attic door was closed behind him. He’d sensed little more than the faintest fragrance of soap she must’ve been using. Reluctantly, he’d left the coat by the open window for the night. The images that insisted on popping up in his head based on that hint alone would be enough to render him utterly useless for the day.
The faint sense on the back of his neck made him pause a moment before he heard a tap on the window. It faced the Slat's backyard where the Dregs would occasionally spar, but in this wet weather, it was empty – safe for his former spider, trying to hide from the rain under a narrow canopy over the window, her face barely visible from under the hood.
For a ridiculous moment, Kaz panicked, as if she could immediately see the memory on his face. Then he stood up, taking his facial muscles under control, limped toward the window as fast as his leg allowed and unlocked the latch. Inej stepped inside, dripping on an ancient thin carpet.
‘I should’ve known to search here first,’ she noted, removing her hood.
‘Did you have to scale back down from the attic?’
‘Let’s hope no one saw this, it was quite embarrassing.’
Kaz hid a smile at the implication that any of her movements could look anything but the embodiment of grace.
‘You could just walk, you know. Wouldn’t have soaked like that.’
After the Ice Court, she’d never replaced her Fabrikator-made scaling slippers and had to navigate the roofs in regular boots. The thought still unnerved him.
Inej removed her jacket. Her dark tunic underneath looked mostly dry, and she was wearing breaches of leather-like material that kept water off. Still, she was slightly shivering, so some water must’ve gotten through the layers of clothing.
Kaz went to a small table in the corner with a new Fabrikator-made portable kerosene stove on top of it. He’d set it up to avoid travelling to the kitchen for coffee, but there was also a small kettle with tea, just waiting to be heated up. He lit it up as Inej was looking around the room. She hadn’t been in here much before.
‘Would you believe me if I said I know the way from Geldstraat to here only from the above?’ she asked, folding the jacket and looking back at where he was latching the window back.
‘No. You've done your research.’
She laughed, bright and warm, and extended her hand to him. And because her laughter sounded like sunlight, or maybe because he was an idiot, he took it, his gloves left behind on the desk.
The bile rose in his throat so quickly it almost took him by surprise. One moment he saw Inej's face, rippled with concern, and the other it was all covered in firepox sores and corpse stains, and he was drowning in the muddy water near the Reaper's Barge, no ground under his weak feet.
Jordie, staring at him, signs of decay unmistakable on his young face, silent accusation in his wide-open eyes. Kaz tried to push him away, but he had no other purchase than his brother's lifeless body. So he drowned, and drowned, and
‘Kaz.’
Why did he get to live?
‘...just me’.
No revenge will ever justify that.
‘Kaz.’
The voice was coming through the wall of water, insistent and unwavering, calling him over and over until he had no choice but to open his eyes. When had he closed them?
Now both his knees hurt, though one much stronger than the other. He was kneeling, bending forward, still nauseous, but his vision got less and less blurry, for better or worse. This carpet was really ugly up close.
Kaz heard a soft thud on his left and forced himself to turn his head to see a glass from Haskell's bar, filled with water. His senses were slowly recovering, and the more he put the pieces together, the less will he had to raise his head and look Inej in the eyes.
'You should drink the water,’ she said softly somewhere above him, like a voice of wisdom from the heavens. He didn’t want to think about anything wet right now, but his mouth felt like he’d chew sand. He took the glass, ignoring the shaking in his hand, and threw it back in several big gulps.
The room was quiet. He could feel Inej's presence somewhere behind, and sure enough, when he managed to turn around, she was studying a shelf of bottled ships Per Haskell had left behind. Kaz had just been thinking about throwing the old man’s treasures out, but maybe he should keep them.
It was only then that he noticed his cane. He hadn’t taken it to open the window. Inej must’ve brought it for him.
The warmth rose in his chest only to be immediately tainted with shame. He grabbed the cane and hoisted himself up on still wobbly feet.
He would gladly just pretend the last couple minutes (or hours, for all he knew) didn’t happen, not that he remembered them anyway. But then a thought flashed through his head, immediately lifting the fog.
He tried to push away – what? Not the stove, thankfully, but then…
‘Did I push you?’
She turned around, and it took all his strength not to snap at her gaze – still warm and accepting, like there was anything to salvage here.
‘What?’
He swallowed. His stomach was still twisting.
‘Did I push you away?’
Inej frowned.
‘No… not really.’
His heart sank.
‘So, yes.’
The frown deepened.
‘So, not really. Rather, you pushed yourself away from me and then…’ she gestured toward the floor, concern more evident on her face. ‘I thought you would be sick. You didn’t seem to hear me.’
Kaz would have zero objections if the floor decided to open under his feet and swallow him whole.
‘Was it the moist?’
He looked at her again. She was looking down on her hands.
‘You seem to fare better when the skin is dry. Back in the Geldrenner…’
Finally, the itch in his chest reached the necessary level.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But…’
‘It doesn’t f*cking matter!’ Kaz snarled, turning his back on her and stomping back toward the desk. ‘Wet, dry – I’m still a freak who can’t touch you without losing his breakfast.’
‘You didn’t…’
‘Yes, I deserve a cookie for that achievement. Why are you even here?’
‘Stop this,’ Inej said, and this voice was… something new. Kaz all but fell in his chair, not really knowing what to do next. But the steel in her tone gathered his attention.
She was standing near that damned shelf with her arms crossed, watching him like he was a child throwing a tantrum. Good, Kaz thought. This was easier to work with than her pity.
Also, had she always looked so good when angry? That was a thought for later.
‘Come on now,’ he quipped, leaning back and interlocking his fingers in front of him. ‘You can’t expect me to believe this doesn’t annoy you.’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘I’m not an idiot, Kaz. I see this isn’t something you can easily control.’
That was the problem.
‘That’s not a no.’
Inej threw up her hands in resignation.
‘Why would I be annoyed at something like that?’
‘You stated very clearly what you want and this isn’t it.’
‘I…’ she paused, and he wanted to kick himself at the regret on her face. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’
He felt his brows knit together.
‘This was most definitely a significant part of what you meant.’
‘Well, part of it, maybe, but not the crucial one,’ she took a small step to the desk separating them. ‘You’re still here and we’re talking. This is what matters.’
She was right – there was no suicidal fight to march off to this time. But Kaz wasn’t sure he wouldn’t bolt like a feral cat if his leg wasn’t this bad and his mind could come up with any excuse to run out of his own office.
‘I might not be up to it, next time,’ his hand was still tingling with the memory of her cold wet skin. He tried to rub the feeling away as inconspicuously as he could, fixed his gaze on his palms. ‘And it will hurt you.’ No way it wouldn’t, to feel like he was reluctant to touch her, for whatever reason. ‘You can admit it’s disappointing, it’s fine.’
It wasn’t fine. He’d believed her when she said she wanted him – or at least, that she thought that. He just wasn’t sure if the want would be strong enough to overcome the frustrations he was bound to put her through, over and over. And letting her down felt as scary as it felt inevitable.
The kettle’s lid started clattering, and Inej got herself busy with pouring them tea. He knew this was his job and he didn’t even want tea, but his legs still felt unreliable, and he couldn’t bring himself to object.
Her steps were soundless, but from the corner of his eye, he could see her moving smoothly to the chair across the desk and putting their cups on it with a thud before sitting down. The desk was high enough to highlight how small she was, but she leaned on the creaky back, undaunted, pulled up her knees and rested her arms on them.
‘So, is this how you are going to feel?’ she finally asked, looking right at him.
Kaz wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
‘What do you mean?’
Inej shrugged, but the movement looked forced like she was performing without her heart in it. She took her cup and sipped it gingerly, breathing in the smell. It was the spiced one. Kaz had figured, if he didn’t care for tea anyway, he might as well get the one she liked.
‘If, say,’ she rubbed her eyes. ‘If you touch me, and I… vanish. Or freeze, or panic and flinch away from you, or punch you – this happened with Jesper once. From what I’ve just heard, you’ll feel annoyed, hurt and disappointed?’
‘No,’ Kaz protested, barely stopping himself from raising his voice. ‘No, I won’t. This is…’
‘Different? How? You haven’t even seen it happen yet,’ her voice wavered just so. ‘But you will.’
There she was again, facing her nightmares to show him how it’s done, taking one for the team. He could see her point, but that did little for his shame. Quite the contrary.
He wanted to argue that he would never hurt her like that, but she’d done nothing to hurt him and yet here he was, still shaken and a little sick. Kaz felt his shoulders slump.
One day, he would have to tell her everything – about Jordie, the firepox, the Reaper’s Barge. He’d have to lay himself bare to her the same way she’d done for him, back in the gilded bathroom.
He didn’t have it in him to start this conversation right now, so instead he said:
‘You’ll tell me if I do something wrong. Whatever it is. Promise.’
Her mouth quirked up – just so, but he noticed it like she’d noticed he was aiming for a bargain.
‘It won’t ever be something you have done,’ Inej objected with a sad tint to her voice. ‘But I will. I might not always be able to do that right away, but I’ll tell you.’
Kaz nodded. This was acceptable. He took his cup.
‘Wet skin is worse,’ he admitted after a sip. ‘From sweat or water, doesn’t matter.’
‘Warm or cold?’
He couldn’t think about the flatboat full of deadmen without shuddering from the memory of how freezing it was. But, growing up in the Barrell, it hadn’t taken him long to learn dead bodies didn’t stay cold, but soon assumed the temperature of their environment.
‘Preferably warm, but freezing cold and dry is better than warm and clammy.’
Inej dipped her chin, committing it all to memory.
‘Does a fabric barrier help?’
‘To an extent.’
‘Like, wool or something…’
‘Can be just thin linen on a good day. It… can be inconsistent.’
‘So, I should ask.’
Kaz ignored another pang of his wounded pride.
‘Would be helpful. It’s best if I see it coming either way.’
‘And when something like this…’
‘Just don’t touch me and I’ll be fine. Eventually.’
‘What helps?’
‘Your voice.’
‘What?’
‘What?’ he blurted, because he wasn’t sure he’d said that, either.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the rain outside. Inej’s eyes were wide open as she studied his face.
‘You… said my voice helped,’ she reminded him.
For whatever reason, his ears felt hot.
‘Mhm,’ Kaz took a gulp of tea, burning his tongue, and opened the record he’d closed before, having only a vague idea of what he was doing. ‘I believe I did.’
‘And you’re blushing.’
‘Not sure I’m familiar with the concept.’
But Inej was giggling, and he couldn’t help but look at her. Her cheeks went somehow darker which meant… was she blushing, too? This was both mortifying and exhilarating.
‘Kaz,’ she breathed, ‘this is so sweet.’
He dropped the pen and buried his face in his palms.
‘Just stab me already.’
This made her laugh more, but soon he heard her clear his throat.
‘I came with some news,’ her voice suddenly sounded more serious.
Kaz lifted his head.
‘Hm?’
Inej wet her lips, looking somewhere above his shoulder.
‘We’ve set a date for our departure. Next Monday.’
He stilled, feeling someone knocked him back into reality. His head went notoriously empty – no response, no jab, not even a protest, nothing.
He’d known for a while now she was going to leave – he’d done a lot to make this possible. It was just that until now, he hadn’t realized that it was actually happening.
Everything was floating away, she was already an ocean apart from him, and he was glued to where he sat, unable to do anything about it.
‘Kaz?’
‘Yeah,’ he heard himself saying, acutely aware he was making no sense. ‘Yes, sure. Monday. Okay.’
It was Tuesday.
The initial numbness passed, and now he mourned it as a dull ache was pounding in his chest.
‘Monday sounds reasonable,’ Kaz added, pushing through it. ‘New life, you know.’
He forced himself to look up. Inej’s brows were drawn together again, but now it was that terrible slope that made her look hurt, not angry. The corners of her lips deepened.
She looked guilty. He was making her feel guilty for leaving. This sucked.
‘When do you plan to return?’ he asked the first thing that came to his mind. Inej sucked in a breath, and, watching her shoulders sag just so, he wanted to believe the question helped her to relax.
‘It depends on how our maiden voyage goes. But, if I don’t get any new clues in Ravka, I’ll have to come back shortly at the end of summer. For a few days, maybe.’
Kaz nodded along as she spoke.
‘Good. Good.’
It will be easier. When she leaves, and then comes back, it will be easier to let her go again. He had to believe that.
He had to believe that more than, in his heart of hearts, he still believed she was leaving for good, that once Ketterdam’s ugly skyline disappears behind the horizon, she’ll realize how much more there was to life than him and never look back.
‘I’ll look into indenture operations in the city,’ he said. ‘See if I have anything for your return.’
Inej smiled, but the uneasiness in her gaze lingered.
What if she only comes back because she feels pity for him? The thought was a scorpion’s sting between his ribs, but she was speaking again, so he ignored it.
‘I… I don’t think any of you should come to the harbour to see us off.’
Kaz nodded again. This made sense. Sooner or later, the Wraith will make a name for herself, and anyone with enough information and two working brain cells will connect the famous Barrel spy that went suspiciously scarce and the pirate ship that came out of nowhere. But there was no need to destroy the element of surprise by Dirtyhands waving a handkerchief on the dock like a devoted sailor’s wife.
‘We’ll have a little farewell party at Wylan’s the night before,’ Inej added. He tilted his head. The invitation was in the air.
‘Is Jesper planning to sing?’
‘My parents and Marya will be present, so, hopefully, no.’
‘Then I… ah, damn it.’
The thought almost escaped him, but his eye caught the gilded card peeking from under his ledgers.
‘What?’ Inej asked, following his gaze. At his inviting gesture, she pulled the card from under the ledgers and scanned it. sh*tty as he felt, Kaz still rejoiced in her impressed gasp.
‘They’re selling ‘Kaelish Price’ already?’
‘The bank got impatient,’ he shrugged, allowing himself a satisfied smirk at her wry side-eye. ‘I hear, Rollins is rumored to have left the countryside. Must be the reason.’
‘Oh?’ she said vaguely, and he all but punched the air. He hadn’t even entertained the idea yet but now he knew she’d had a hand in it. Inej was never good at lying, especially when she wasn’t trying that hard.
‘You don’t sound surprised.’
She shrugged, still studying the golden lettering.
‘He did look scared when I saw him last.’
Kaz shook his head. He should’ve been mad, would’ve been at anyone else for meddling with his personal feud. But he was rich now. Why wouldn’t she steal his secrets?
‘Care to tell me when that was?’
‘Let’s focus on this first,’ Inej waved the card, and he silently, if not very willingly, obliged. ‘This was addressed to Councilman Van Verent?’
Van Verents were an up-and-coming family whose patriarch Gert was the main beneficiary of Hoede’s ill-advised experiments with parem. Gert had taken the place in the Council Hoese vacated to drool away in his country mansion as the merch’s sons were not yet of age. With all that money, you’d expect a man would care about fathering heirs sooner than his forties, but Kaz had given up on understanding that crowd’s logic in some matters a while ago.
‘Apparently, Mr Van Verent fancies himself an entertainment prodigy,’ he said with a flowery gesture that made Inej roll her eyes with a smile. ‘I found it interesting, too. You might want to look closer into what he does when you’re back in town. He’s not getting this establishment, for now.’
‘A ‘closed tour for selected investors’,’ she read out loud. ‘They won’t be happy to see you there.’
‘Most people aren’t happy to see me anywhere, and yet. Dime Lions won’t be the ones in charge. The bank is hosting.’
‘They will still be there, do you think they’ll just let you…’
‘Most of them have been jobless for weeks by now,’ Kaz said. ‘We both know, all the Lions loyal enough to Rollins to risk their pockets have left with him. They’ll accept anyone who’ll at least allow them a severance pay.’
Now she was looking at him over the card, with her head tilted down and her mouth corners slightly curled up, her eyes twinkling with the dark mirth he’d spotted in them sometimes after a successful job that took a lot of wall climbing and not much violence. He hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on it, then, but now it was so open for him to see – she liked it.
Inej had never made a secret of her disdain for the Kerch’s obsession with profit, her disappointment with him every time he’d go one about dying under his kruge weighing heavily even in her silence, her absence. But his twisted scheming, the risks he took, the puzzles he could solve had to have at least some merit in her eyes. Suddenly, it was hard to keep her gaze and not be distracted by the unwelcome hotness in his cheeks and the weird feeling like some stupid kid was blowing a huge soap bubble in his chest.
She helped him out by putting the card down and saying:
‘I’ll go with you.’
‘You’ll do no such thing.’
‘You’ll need…’
‘A backup, yes. Don’t quote me on that, but the people who work for me aren’t completely useless.’
This must’ve come out wrong – Kaz could hear the hurt in the way she breathed in, sharp and quick. He course corrected:
‘No one will ever be like you. But I have a whole gang at my disposal, and you will never start your own operation if you keep watching over me.’
‘This is just a little party,’ Inej shrugged.
‘Your farewell party. And if I can make it, I’ll come, too. Not the other way around. You’re way overqualified for being my spider now, Captain.’
Inej’s cheeks flushed momentarily, and he made a mental note to remember how visibly pleased the title made her. Certainly useful.
It was easier to focus on her blushing than on what he was declaring. He’d let his Wraith go a while ago, but saying it out loud hit differently.
‘If you say so,’ Inej said hesitantly, putting a card back on the desk.
Then she looked up, trapping his gaze because he had to let his guard down and watch her.
‘But I intend to keep watching over you for every moment I can when I’m back, Kaz.’
He swallowed. That was an endearing prospect and yet…
‘I don’t think I fit the bill of an innocent soul you’re supposed to save.’
‘I don’t think I care.’
She took a moment to be smug over his reaction to his own stolen words and added, somberly:
‘We’re partners, after all. I need you here, alive and well.’
Kaz sighed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ‘well’, but alive – yes, he could try and last for a little longer.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he nodded at the invitation. ‘About that, too. I would hate to miss your graduation to being a pirate.’
When she stood up to leave, he did, too – he wasn’t sure why. There were no tricks up his sleeve this time, and he wasn’t one for seeing guests off. Still, he took several awkward steps after her. Inej stopped in front of the window and turned to him, shrugging on her jacket. They were face to face now.
The backyard was empty, and there were no windows on the opposite side to spy on them. Kaz’s mind registered this information numbly, wondering what to do with it. And also, what to do with the weird tingling of this skin, from his covered hands and arms to his chest to his face. Inej was watching him patiently, her dark eyes attentive like she was spying on him openly.
He wanted to move closer. The realization hit him like a missing puzzle falling into place. He wondered how it would feel to have her tightly against his chest like he’d seen others do so many times. She looked incredibly huggable. This could easily be their last meeting for the week, maybe many weeks ahead, and he wouldn’t get the chance in front of her parents and their friends.
He couldn’t move. Her skin was certainly still cool and damp from the rain. Maybe he would be able to bear it through their clothes, but the fear of failure was paralyzing. His stomach was still uneasy after a fit of nausea, and the thought of moving closer to her made it worse, no matter how much he wanted it.
Inej smiled at him, driving another sting right into his core, and left through the window. He stayed where he was, listening to the tap of rain and vicious voices in his head.
***
‘Come in, Mama’ Inej’s voice answered from behind the door at Priya’s knock.
‘How did you know it was me?’ she asked, stepping into her daughter’s room. Inej was standing in front of the vanity with her hair down, frowning at her reflection.
‘You’re the only one to knock four times.’
The response came with a small smile in her direction, but it faded away immediately, giving place to Inej’s preoccupied pout.
‘What’s the matter?’ her mother asked, stepping closer. ‘You look lovely.’
She did. Priya stopped herself from reacting too notably at Inej’s choice of an outfit, even though the teal shirt she’d seen before in her drawer made a beautiful contrast with her skin. It wasn’t hard to guess she was already challenging herself by trying it out, even if it was only in front of her parents and friends.
‘I can’t decide what to do with my hair,’ Inej admitted.
For an oblivious observer, it would sound like a frivolous concern of a vain girl, considering the occasion was just a family dinner with the people who saw her every day, but Priya was anything but oblivious.
Inej had been making her first shaky, uncertain steps towards her own body in the weeks that Priya had the opportunity to observe her. From buying a shirt that wasn’t some shade of darkness to taking time to braid her hair more elaborately, she was paying small bits of attention to her appearance which couldn’t have been easy. Priya had taken note of every time Inej would eye her rings or those phials of kajal they sold in Small Ravka when they were out for a walk together, only to turn away with an expression heartbreakingly close to shame.
Before she’d been taken, Inej used to love dressing up for her performances. She adored her rose crowns and would ask Meraj for nothing but a bright-colored costume for birthday presents as she was growing out of them so fast. It was an endearing, innocent vanity of a child who only started to realize she was going to grow up beautiful. Priya understood perfectly well why it was gone forever, but she didn’t hate it less.
She longed to tell her how proud she was of every effort, however small, that Inej took to see her body as more than a tool but it wasn’t worth the risk of making her feel embarrassed. There was nothing more mortifying for a natural performer than being observed at their training failures.
Priya stepped behind her daughter, carefully gathering her thick locks together with two hands.
‘We could make two braids, but it will take time, and it’s almost dinner. Would you like to have it up?’
At Inej’s nod, she separated her hair into three parts and started making a small braid from the strands on the right side. When it reached the nape, she fixed it with pins and switched to the left side.
‘Maybe I should cut it.’
Priya almost dropped the braid she’d started. Inej’s eyes were trained on herself in the mirror, but her gaze was distant.
‘Why?’
She shrugged.
‘I won’t be able to take care of it on the ship. It’s such a silly thing to waste time on.’
Priya stifled a sigh. Suli women usually didn’t cut their hair until long into their marriage, some only cut it to shoulders if they became widows. Until marriage, whatever trimming they chose to undergo was kept discreet, as long hair was associated closely with maidenhood. She couldn’t say she liked that connection much, but Inej seemingly not seeing it for herself was something she liked even less.
‘Do you want it shorter?’
There it was again, the little frown she loved to see, unlike whatever was causing it. The small crease between her thick eyebrows hadn’t changed much since Inej was learning her first steps, back when life was simpler.
‘I’m not sure. I’d have to see it to know.’
‘Well, you can try it, but, if you decide to grow it back, just keep it braided until you can give it a wash, and don’t forget about oil.’
Priya only got a hum in response and decided to consider it a win.
She finished the second small braid and started another one slightly off the center, using all the hair this time. Her fingers worked swiftly, manipulating the heavy, smooth locks in the rhythm she’d never quite forgotten. Before she knew it, the long braid was done, and Priya coiled it up in a loose bun on the left side of Inej’s nape.
‘There,’ she said, smiling at them both in the mirror. ‘What do you think?’
Inej had dropped her gaze at some point and she took a deep breath before looking at herself again. She turned her head to get a better view, her expression thoughtful.
‘It is beautiful,’ she declared finally. Priya knew she meant it, but she hated how unsure her voice sounded.
She watched Inej lift her hand slowly to touch her bare earlobe. The hairstyle left her small ears on display. Back home, she would wear some bigger dangling earrings as they would be more visible with her hair up. Their family could never afford anything obnoxious, but they had a pair of silver bell-shaped dangles with tiny beads hanging from them that would do nicely. If Inej would ever be comfortable wearing them, was the question Priya couldn’t bear to ask.
‘You can just unbraid it again,’ she suggested. Inej rolled her shoulders and smiled at her.
‘I do like it. And why would I waste your hard work like that?’
‘It took mere minutes. I don’t believe anyone would object.’
She immediately regretted the words as her daughter’s smile dropped just so. Inej had told them already that Kaz might not come to see them off. He’d visited once during the previous week and made sure to say goodbye to them as he left, without any guarantee it wasn’t a goodbye for maybe months if not years.
Priya had no idea if they’d ever get to host him in Ravka. She was having a hard time imagining Kaz, with his tidy suits and thick gloves, in a small wagon or sitting with their family by the fire at dinner. It tugged at her mother’s heart to leave the boy in this city, but she wondered if he was too at home here to fit in anywhere else.
It also pained her to see Inej’s attempts not to show how anxious she was about Kaz’s presence tonight. Deep down, Priya had to wonder how these children lasted so long in this unforgiving place while being so obvious.
‘Still,’ she said, taking Inej’s hands, ‘it looks good for a change. Go downstairs and enjoy yourself, meja. I’ll fetch your father and we’ll be there in a minute.’
***
‘Look at you!’ Jesper exclaimed, beaming up at Inej as she was going down the stairs. His smile was contagious, and Inej felt a little less conscious about her looks.
‘Do you think it still fits?’ she asked, spreading her arms to show off the sleeves. The dense teal silk felt cool and smooth against her skin.
‘It looks better than I thought. I knew it was too big when I gave it to you. Good on you for growing some inches.’
The shirt was snug against her shoulders without restricting her movements. Inej had no comparison basis – she’d never tried it on before. After Jesper had gifted it to her, she’d hidden it away and barely dared to look at it. But for the eve of her maiden voyage it felt right to dress up, and, while she’d purchased some clothes in the weeks coming on to the departure, this was the only item that was more beautiful than practical.
Upstairs in her room, before her mother came, she’d spent a good five minutes looking at the girl in the mirror, with her hair down, bright silk bringing up her complexion instead of helping her to blend into shadows. She still couldn’t think about applying any cosmetics on her face without feeling sick, but her imagination was already at work, painting kohl lines under her eyes and assessing whether they would make her look like older women in her caravan rather than Heleen’s Lynx.
Maybe she should’ve become a socialite instead of a pirate if she cared for her appearance so much, she’d thought bitterly. But then her mother had come and arranged her hair like she was to attend a Suli wedding, and Inej decided not to think about it at all for now.
‘You look good enough to make me self-conscious,’ Jesper said. She laughed.
‘No one ever looks that good, Jes.’
‘Well, alright, but it’s close,’ he winked. ‘Are we giving any Barrell bosses heart attacks tonight?’
‘I’m still not sure he’s coming.’
Jesper rolled his eyes.
‘Of course. A reputation of an asshole to uphold, after all.’
She shook her head.
‘Don’t be angry with him. He looked like he wanted to come.’
‘I know he did, that’s why I’m angry.’
Inej’s heart clenched. Maybe it was the impact of her parents’ soothing presence, but she’d gotten more comfortable with touch when it came to the inhabitants of this house. She stepped closer and slowly put her arms around Jesper’s torso. After a moment, she felt him tentatively hugging her back, more careful than anyone would expect Jesper to be with anything. His big warm palms stilled on her shoulder blades, giving just enough pressure to let her know where they were.
‘I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to do with you gone,’ he murmured above her head. ‘With no one to distract him, Wylan will realize what a mess I am, and off back to the Slat I go, with my things flying after.’
‘Wylan knows you’re a mess. He seems to like it.’
‘Let’s hope, for my sake.’
She drew back and looked up at him.
‘You’ll keep an eye out for him, won’t you?’
Jesper sighed.
‘The one I don’t mind losing, sure. But then you’ll have to hire me so I could sport that eyeband.’
Inej looped her arm in his and led him into the living room.
‘You’re saying this like you wouldn’t make eyebands high Ketterdam fashion in a matter of days.’
***
Inej wasn’t sure what she expected from her last night in Ketterdam – probably just a regular dinner and some time in the living room with her friends before she would have to call it a night. The fact that she was spending it in the Van Eck family house would’ve once been surprising enough.
She didn’t expect Marya to play a duet with Wylan on the piano for the first time since she’d been set free – for the first time in years, as, unlike drawing, she’d had no opportunity to practice in the asylum. And yet, after some practice, she played the second part that mostly required accords and seemed very proud of her success.
She didn’t expect the portrait of her parents to be finally presented to them – instead of her usual realistic approach, Marya had chosen to surround Devnand and Priya with flowers, filling the background with vibrant wildflowers, daisies and geraniums. Inej’s mother teared up at the sight of purple petals in her hair, and her father declared it the most flattering compliment he’d ever received. The portrait wasn’t too big, and it was collectively decided that it would go nicely in the captain’s quarters on The Wraith.
Papa turned out to have secretly embroidered one of Marya’s white blouses, lining its cuffs and collar with the traditional Suli floral ornament Inej had never seen on the things her people sold to Ravkans or Shu. Marya loved it so much she excused herself to go and change on the spot.
Jesper and Wylan presented Inej with an actual tricorne they insisted she wore until the end of the evening. She obliged, resisting the urge to find a mirror and make sure she didn’t actually look ridiculous.
‘It looks very natural on you,’ her mother assured, fighting an amused grin. ‘Like you were born in it.’
Inej scowled.
‘Now you’re overkilling it.’
Around ten bells she took notice of a wary look Wylan and Jesper exchanged, the latter glancing at the watch and slightly shaking his head, but decided not to inquire about it.
She was grateful for all the gifts changing hands, but even more so for all the laughter and talking, Wylan’s musings on how to re-arrange his father’s office and finally fix the infamous hole in the dining room’s ceiling, her parents talking about how they planned to spend summer in Ravka. She’d been doing a decent job not worrying about Kaz all day, but now all of it kept her engaged and distracted from constantly straining her ear in attempts to hear the knock on the entrance door.
It never came. Of course, she should’ve known better.
Instead, they heard Janika’s loud frightened gasp in the hall.
Inej sprang to the door, Wylan and Jesper on her heels, before she could make out what the housekeeper said in a moment:
‘Mr Brekker!’
She was in the foyer just in time to see Kaz closing the glass door leading from the garden behind him. Inej swallowed a sigh of relief at seeing him visibly unscathed, if just a little rumpled. He must’ve used a Comedie Brute costume to get there: his hat and coat were nowhere to be seen, loose hair strands falling on his brow.
‘Janika,’ he nodded to the housekeeper, who turned to glare at her employer.
‘We’ll talk to him,’ Wylan said calmly.
‘But he probably won’t listen,’ Jesper added from behind him.
Janika closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and retreated to the servants’ quarters with a straight back of a true stoic. Wylan shook his head and went back to the room. Inej heard him informing the others about Kaz’s arrival but was glad no one stepped out to greet him right away.
‘Nice of you to join us,’ Jesper said, folding his arms on his chest. ‘I was doubting you would.’
Kaz quirked a brow.
‘That’s cold. Don’t you know how I adore social gatherings?’
Jesper laughed, and it warmed Inej’s heart. To her knowledge, the boys were still figuring out where they stood after the whole mess that had led to the auction. In Kaz’s few visits over the previous weeks, they’d sometimes spent time together with Wylan in his study, but never alone, never just the two of them.
Although Kaz had never told her his brother’s name, the one he’d shouted at Jesper at Geldrenner had been enough of a clue. It pained her to think they would drift apart now.
But now the boys looked at each other directly before Jesper said:
‘Well, you two have fun intensely looking at each other…’
‘Jesper’, Inej said in a low voice, but he was already retreating – to the library and not the living room, for some reason.
‘...I just remembered, uh, something. Will be back in a minute.’
Inej followed him with a confused frown.
‘Any ideas?’ she asked, turning to Kaz. He was watching her, seemingly fascinated with something.
‘Sorry,’ he said distractedly, ‘I’m afraid your new hat captured all my attention.’
It wasn’t until then that Inej realized she was still wearing her new tricorne. Not giving herself time to feel embarrassed, she touched one of the pointy ends, adjusting it slightly, and lifted her chin:
‘What do you think?’
‘An absolute showstopper,’ Kaz said with no hint of ridicule. ‘You look ready to sink a fleet.’
Now she was blushing.
‘And what about your hat? Don’t tell me you’ve lost it already, it was almost new.’
‘Left it at the Slat. My Mister Krimson mask and coat are waiting in the garden.’
‘So, was it a success?’
He smirked.
‘I wish it had taken less time, but yes. ‘Emerald Palace’ belongs to the Dregs now.’
Inej didn’t hold back her grin. Even if she’d never taken the tattoo, she knew she’d be invested in the gang’s achievements for the foreseeable future. And she took pride in every piece of Rollins’s empire Kaz could get his hands on now.
‘What do you want to do with it?’
He shrugged.
‘Another gaming floor, I guess. See, I’m getting old and predictable.’
She chuckled. Then she made a decision she’d been delaying until the very last moment.
‘Wait here. I have something for you in my room.’
And she flew up the stairs before she could think about if that was too childish.
It took her less than a minute to find the stuffed lion and go back, holding it behind her back, but Kaz was standing with his back to the mirror near the entrance now, with a square, flat box in his gloved hands.
Inej’s stomach sank. The box was lined with velvet, like those used for jewelry.
‘What is this?’ she asked, approaching him, hoping the shaking in her voice could be assigned to the running.
Kaz turned the box slightly in his long fingers. Judging from the slight twitch of his lips, she didn’t fool him.
‘A little something I had Jesper modified for you. Had I failed to show up, he would’ve given it to you himself.’
Inej inhaled as deeply as she could. The thought of shiny, heavy things on her ears or neck made her feel short for air.
‘You shouldn’t have, the boys already got me the hat,’ she said and winced. She didn’t intend to sound so dismissive.
Kaz looked down at the box with that uncertain expression that still looked so new on him.
‘You don’t have to accept it,’ he turned as if looking for a surface to put it away. ‘Or I can leave it here and you…’
Inej reached out and touched his sleeve. He froze mid-sentence, meeting her eyes.
‘That’s not what I meant. This is just a polite thing people say,’ she said. Kaz frowned, and it looked comical enough to ease her nerves.
‘Don’t say polite things please, it’s very confusing.’
Inej laughed.
‘Sure, I forget. Crows have no manners.’
He finally smiled, and she felt the tension dissipate. The prospect of opening the box still made her uneasy, but his words about the content being modified for her sounded reassuring. Inej decided she’d at least look inside before losing it.
‘But we both have presents,’ she said. ‘I go first.’
The stuffed lion appeared on top of the box like it was meant to carry it, with swiftness she hoped paid tribute to Kaz’s sleight of hand.
Kaz slowly took it with one hand, tilting his head as he studied the animal like the peculiar stolen trinket it was.
‘I don’t think he’ll come back,’ Inej added, watching him. ‘He knows, now, that I don’t need your orders to go after him, because I already had.’
She wondered if she was the one overstepping here. For several long seconds, Kaz just looked at the toy, turning it in his fingertips.
‘You stole a toy from his son,’ he finally stated, like he needed to make that as clear as possible.
‘To be honest, it was Mama.’
His eyebrows shot up as he looked her in the eye. Inej shrugged.
‘We’ve been using every opportunity to spend time together. And like I said, they like you,’ she allowed him to take that in, then added: ‘She left a crow instead.’
Kaz pursed his lips. She could tell he was trying not to burst out laughing. Finally, a wide grin broke through, reached his eyes and gathered crow’s feet in their corners.
‘You…’ he snorted softly, ‘you and your whole family are something else, Inej Ghafa.’
Inej didn’t try to fight a pleased smile. One day, she would tell him how good it felt to hear her full name on his lips. How it had given a small part of herself back to her the first time he’d pronounced it. For now, she just relished in how utterly delighted he looked. Despite the dim lighting of the foyer, she could swear he was blushing.
‘This,’ Kaz lifted the lion, ‘is much appreciated.’ He paused. ‘And I am fully aware of how weird that sounds outside of context.’
She didn’t object – Dirtyhands thanking for a stuffed toy would cause quite a stir in the Barrell.
Kaz pocketed the lion and held up the box in both hands.
‘I can describe it to you if that makes it easier,’ he offered, but Inej shook her head and finally took it from him.
He’d found her a perfect ship. Surely, he could choose her a fitting bracelet or whatever it was. This was nothing to prepare herself for.
She lifted the lid to find herself severely mistaken. She was definitely not prepared for this.
Two tiniest daggers she’d ever seen, no longer than her phalange, with spiderweb-thin hilts, were laid on the velvet pillow. They were made of some dark metal – oxidized silver, she assumed – but they still reflected light, glinting just like real knives.
‘Wylan helped me to find a proper sketch for the jewelry maker, and Jesper adjusted them. The studs are connected to their posts by magnets,’ she heard Kaz explaining. ‘They’re pretty strong, but if someone pulls at them during a fight, they’ll just come off. And we’ll make you new ones.’
‘You got me dagger-looking earrings,’ she said numbly, by no means any less dumbfounded than he’d been moments ago.
‘Well, they are earrings and they are shaped like daggers, so… yes?’
Inej touched the pointy end of one of the earrings.
‘Can I stab someone with them?’
She heard Kaz’s smile as he answered.
‘If you feel a need to do so, don’t hesitate. But they are,’ he licked his lips, ‘they’re mostly just for beauty.’
The words stole her breath. She swallowed, slowly tilting the box to watch the dot of light travel the dangerous edges.
‘Do… do you like them?’
Inej looked up. He was studying her face as if trying to read her answer before she gave it.
‘I do,’ she said, watching some tension evaporate from his features. ‘In fact, I think I love them. Wait, let me…’
With the box still in her hands, she hurried to the library where the boys kept a brandy decanter on a small table near the chairs.
Wylan had taken to spending his free time in the library, trying to reclaim the room that used to witness far too much of his torment. Now he would sit there, leaning back in the stuffed chair, and listen to Jesper reading to him – letters, documents, books – like it was music.
She took a handkerchief out of her pocket, wet its corner with the brandy and made quick work of sanitizing one of her earlobes and a stud’s post. There was no mirror, so she looked in the dark window, trying to get it in, but the room wasn’t lit, either, so she still couldn’t see anything.
‘May I?’ Kaz said behind her back.
Inej turned to where he stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the warm light of the foyer. At her nod, he stepped closer. For anyone else, the stud would’ve been tricky to hold in gloved fingers, but Kaz took it from her effortlessly, lifting it between his thumb and digit as he screwed off the fastening. Inej turned her head sideways to him, telling herself that this was nothing new. He stayed a wide step away, using almost all his arm’s length to reach for her ear. He’d carried her, cut ties on her hands and got her in and out of shackles mere weeks ago.
‘Quite an unusual activity for you,’ she said, ignoring her quickened heartbeat. ‘To put jewelry in place instead of lifting it.’
‘There’s the first time for everything,’ despite the distance, she could swear his breath touched her skin. He cleared his throat.
‘Much as I love that hat, could you bear parting with it for a moment?’
Inej smirked, removing the tricorne. Always so dramatic.
He found the piercing dot where her parents had made it when she was only a toddler and touched it with the post’s end.
‘If it doesn’t go easily, I’m stopping.’
Inej knew it would. Although she hadn’t worn earrings since the Menagerie, she’d been wearing them almost her entire life, and the holes didn’t go anywhere. And sure enough, his lockpick fingers drove the post right through.
‘Did it hurt?’ he asked, fastening the stud.
‘No, I barely felt anything.’
‘Good. Shall we do the second one?’
She turned her head the other way, rubbing her second earlobe with the alcohol-soaked kerchief. Kaz took it from her and cleaned the post. When it was done, he stepped back, giving her way to the foyer. Inej approached the mirror near the entrance door and looked at her reflection.
Her hat was still in her hands, so she could see how nicely the jewelry complemented her hairstyle. The daggers glinted, reflecting the gas lamps’ light. She looked nothing like the Barrel spider or the Menagerie indenture. She wasn’t sure who she looked like, but she could get used to being that person.
Kaz’s breath hitched, and she turned to him. He craned his neck, still looking in the mirror behind her.
‘Did you do something new to your hair?’
With the tricorne on, he probably hadn’t realized until now she wasn’t wearing her usual coil. Inej turned her head, giving him a side view of the side where the braid was pinned.
‘Mama braided it for me. We wear it like that on occasions, like someone’s wedding or a holiday.’
‘It... looks good.’
She tried not to grin too widely.
‘Thank you.’
He was studying it with hungry attention that looked strangely familiar. After a second, Inej realized that he usually looked like this when examining a trick or a puzzle he wanted to decode.
‘Are you trying to figure out whether you could replicate it?’ she asked in a momentary surge of courage.
She expected him to jerk his head away with his usual annoyed scowl or to just ignore the question, but instead, he met her eyes and quietly asked:
‘You think you’d ever let me try?’
Inej inhaled sharply. These questions would lure them into uncharted waters if they weren’t careful.
Maybe, they didn’t have to be, at least right now. Maybe, this was the time for bravado. So she said:
‘I don’t hate the idea of putting your hands to honest work for once.’
Kaz visibly swallowed. Her cheeks were scorching hot.
After a moment of silence, he gestured toward the living room.
‘I’m certain they’re all just eavesdropping by the door at this point. Shall we?’
Inej smiled, following him.
***
Spending an hour of chitchat in the company of his former crew members and their parents wasn’t as torturous as Kaz would expect. Inej’s parents were graceful enough not to comment too much on his gift (although Priya called it ‘thoughtful’, whatever that meant), and attention thankfully shifted to Jesper and Wylan as Inej brought up their involvement, and then the conversation turned to Jesper’s training.
So mostly he just got to sit in peace, watching Inej talking and laughing with the people she cherished, and sipping his hot chocolate because Marya insisted he was ‘just in time for one before bed’. He didn’t have the heart to tell the poor woman no one drank hot chocolate before bed where he was from. If Jesper said something about him getting a moustache, he could ignore it.
He didn’t hate it. If he was to admit the truth, he didn’t want it to end, because he actually hated what that meant.
Still, when Inej said it was time for her to go to bed, he stood up without protest and said his goodbyes in a little stiffer manner than he knew she would like.
‘We are very indebted to you,’ Devnand said, shaking his hand.
‘No, you are not,’ Kaz hoped he was making clear how much he meant it without sounding rude. ‘None of you. If anything, we’re even.’
Keeping people hooked with favors they knew they’d have to return was a natural part of his operation, but he had no interest in doing it to this family. And he could still feel the damned lion in his pocket, even if he had no idea how to address that.
‘Well,’ Priya chimed in, ‘Then we are very glad to have made your acquaintance.’
That made him chuckle.
‘Few people get to say that, and fewer yet mean it,’ he shook her hand next.
Inej’s mother remained serious.
‘I hope to see you again in good health,’ she said. ‘It will sadden me – all of us – greatly if I don’t.’
Kaz didn’t know what to say to that. His well-being was his concern alone – or so he’d kept telling himself as Inej’s desperate voice echoed in his ears on his way to the Slat that day weeks prior. Even if he sincerely believed she was better off without him, that didn’t mean he wanted her to get hurt.
With a pang of fear he realized – he didn’t want anyone in this room to get hurt.
So he nodded, holding Priya’s firm gaze, so much like Inej’s but even more mature. Then he quickly bid Jesper, Wylan and Marya goodnight, but, as he turned to Inej, she nodded toward the door:
‘I’ll see you out.’
So he left the room just as he’d entered it – with her.
She walked him out into the garden, where the darkness hid them from whoever could be in the foyer. When she closed the door and turned to him, Kaz yet again felt the same damned helplessness that had paralyzed him days before.
This was when the lovers kissed or embraced, or at least exchanged some sappy farewells. Instead, he was too scared to mar this last moment with his weakness to do anything as she watched him, lovely and more patient than he deserved.
It was probably too late to compliment her on her new shirt. That would sound dumb.
Luckily, he still had something to ask of her.
‘Promise me something.’
Inej tilted her head, listening.
‘Promise you won’t come back to me unless you want to,’ Kaz blurted out as quickly as he could to avoid his words being misinterpreted. Because, selfishly and desperately, he wanted her to come back. He’d wanted things that weren’t his to have his whole life, after all.
For a split second, he waited, terrified, to see if this offended her. Inej closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath, but she was also smiling, so hopefully he didn’t go too far.
‘Alright. I promise,’ she crossed her heart, only partially in jest. ‘Word of a pirate.’
He didn’t know why he was so relieved. Any promise was only that until proven by action.
But this was Inej, the most honest thief he’d known. Her promise counted for something.
‘It’s an easy promise to make,’ she followed, serious again. ‘And I have some I’d like to hear from you, too. They might be harder.’
‘Oh?’
Inej nodded, all business. He had a bad feeling he wouldn’t have much room for negotiation here.
‘Please check in on Jesper and Wylan, when you can.’
Kaz raised a brow.
‘Are you asking me to babysit them or are they supposed to babysit me?’
She shrugged.
‘Whatever hurts your ego less.’
He sighed.
‘I guess… I can drop by once a month.’
‘A week.’
‘That’s not realistic, Wraith.’
‘Every fortnight.’
She really bargained him into this, didn’t she? He smiled.
‘Deal.’
The corners of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t rest on her success.
‘Make Roeder your spider, officially.’
‘I don’t need…’
‘You do,’ she interrupted. ‘And you need your crew to feel acknowledged. I…’ she wet her lips. ‘You need them to watch your back like we did.’
There’s no one like you. He knew that, and he knew she knew that, so he didn’t waste his breath on the words.
‘Fine. I’ll acknowledge the hell out of them. Will pamper them so much they’ll be baking me cakes in no time.’
‘Now, don’t get overzealous.’
She dropped her gaze as her laugh faded away. Her words flew between them like the faintest wind.
‘Promise you’ll be here when I come back.’
They both knew he couldn’t in good heart guarantee it. Kaz wasn’t stupid enough to believe chances would always be in his favor, and it took the dumbest coincidence, a stray bullet or a drunk knife, to take out anyone, no matter how smart and fierce.
And Inej had always had a lot of faith in him, but she wasn’t naive. She would be the first to remind him he didn’t control fate.
‘I’ll do my best,’ Kaz said because that was what she was asking. As he spoke, he reached for her palm and took it, not allowing himself to think of it too much.
The air in the garden was warm and still. He could hear frogs croaking by the water. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the leather.
She tried to turn her palm in his, probably expecting a handshake – they were making agreements, after all. But Kaz raised her hand higher and bent down just so, keeping his eyes on hers, wide open, shining with life.
He still kept her gaze as he pressed his lips to the back of her knuckles. They felt a little chapped but warm, and he could feel a faint echo of her pulse in them. Focused as he was, he could still hear her gasp.
The waters were lapping at his ankles, unusually tame, and when he let her hand go, he almost didn’t feel sick. Inej glanced down at her palm before slowly pressing it to her chest. Then she looked up at him and smiled, her lower lip slightly quivering.
Kaz was unsure if the swelling pride in his chest was deserved, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t enough.
‘I hope we can discuss… this further, when I see you again,’ he heard himself saying because he was nothing if not one to push his luck. Even if his voice was more than a little shaky.
Inej squinted at him.
‘Wasn’t it you who told me hope was dangerous?’
‘So are you,’ Kaz replied, glancing at the daggers in her earlobes. ‘But I seem to prefer it that way.’
He held the stuffed toy in his pocket all the way back to the Slat. But even tighter was his grip on the memory of her smile, brighter than the sun, in a desperate hope it would last him until he saw her again.
***
Their trip back to Ravka had little resemblance to the one to Ketterdam. Inej’s crew was a bunch of mostly young thugs who would still make sure to wish them good morning and good night, and Devnand was pretty sure they, including Specht, tried not to curse around them, even while believing he and his wife spoke close to no Kerch. The Wraith was much faster than the ship that got them to Kerch, and, after two days of sailing, Devnand suspected they’d intercept their target soon enough.
It was fascinating to see her navigate the relationship with this new group of people she was now supposed to lead. Most of them came from Ketterdam’s bottom, and Inej from the start knew more about any of them than they knew about her. Some were clearly a little scared of her – at least until the first time she’d laughed at their joke or allowed them to beat her at cards. Many seemed drawn to the myth of The Wraith only to discover she was a girl of flesh and blood, with parents and tea preferences.
But Inej had chosen wisely: using his disguise as a non-Kerch speaker and general ability to go unnoticed if he so wished, Devnand could tell her people, who’d stepped aboard with nothing but respect for the skilled former spy of the Dregs, were growing to love their captain, too.
He and Priya tried to keep their distance from Inej during the day – she was already younger than half of her crew and probably didn’t need to look even more like a child with her parents fussing over her. They had cots at her quarters and would usually catch up at night if she wasn’t away on duty. Their conversations were never long – Inej was usually too tired to speak, and it was obvious to them both that leaving Ketterdam was weighing on her.
Devnand woke up in the middle of the night to see her empty berth – she must’ve been on deck, observing her crew. He thought of turning around and trying to sleep some more, but instead got from under the blanket as silently as he could and slipped out of the door.
He found Inej on the forecastle deck, where she had a vantage point over the whole ship. Specht was at the steering wheel. Despite the late hour, almost all of her crew was in sight: some were sitting around the deck, cleaning their weapons, others just waited in silence, studying the darkness of the sea and the sky. All the lights were dimmed to the point the deck was lit only by the stars – it was a new moon. His daughter had really calculated everything to make sure her first capture would be a success.
And yet, as he found her, Inej was just turning over her shoulder to look where the Wraith left a trail of troubled water – back to where they came from, where miles and miles separated them from Ketterdam.
‘I wouldn’t say that in front of your people, but you look all grown up,’ he said, approaching her. Inej glanced down at her long dark coat, with knife sheaths all over and a small breast pocket for her compass, and gave him a smile that looked uncomfortably forced.
‘What’s on your mind, meja?’
Inej huffed out a laugh.
‘Well, you know. Not much, just the whole first fight ahead.’
‘I think you’ll focus on it better if you just get the other thing off your chest.’
For a while, Inej watched her crewmate holding vigil up in the crow’s nest. She said finally in a soft voice:
‘I used to think leaving Ketterdam would be the happiest day of my life.’
‘You seem pretty content.’
But he knew what she meant. Inej seemed enamored with all her new duties and chores, even if it was deck scrubbing. But in the moments of idleness, he would catch her with that thoughtful expression that reminded him of Priya in her saddest moments – but also of his mother’s distress, and he didn’t like it.
‘I am,’ she assured him. ‘I guess it’s just different from what I used to dream of.’
‘What was it?’
Inej shrugged.
‘I thought if I, by some miracle, found myself on a ship back to Ravka, I would just make my way back to you and it would be like a bad dream. I was naive. It was back when I was… younger.’
Devnand knew hugging her when all her subordinates could see them would be unwise, but his heart bled at that pause. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly.
She looked up at him, and the curve of her lips, wise and bitter, was nothing like the childish grin he remembered. He could endure it. The last short years of her childhood had been stolen from all of them for good, but he could mourn them in silence.
‘I’m just now coming to terms,’ Inej proceeded, ‘that I’m bound to miss someone at all times. I’ll miss you and Mama when I leave you behind. And I miss… all of them already.’
He decided not to comment on how much of ‘them’ was one particular Barrell criminal. From what he’d pieced together, Inej had spent many months with her crew. There was nothing unnatural in her feeling the absence of all the friends she’d made.
‘Of all misfortunes, you’d think we’re spared this one.’
Devnand looked at her, confused, and Inej explained:
‘We don’t get to miss each other much. We travel together, and even if one of us joins another caravan, we’re still on the same routes. I guess this is just a type of ache I wasn’t expecting,’ she dropped her gaze. ‘Don’t tell Mama I said that. I know she misses Naana every day.’
He nodded. The loss of Inej had been a new searing pain that overshadowed everything else, but he remembered Priya’s quiet devastation after his mother-in-law passed away, and that kind of heartbreak never really disappeared.
For a few moments, he just watched a lanky guy Inej hired as a gunner checking on the cannons down at the left railing, searching for words. He didn’t miss his distant relatives, the ones who probably wouldn’t recognize him now. He couldn’t say he understood the pain that was threatening his daughter.
So he said just that.
‘Do you remember when my father died?’
She looked up, her eyes shining in the starlight. There wasn’t much to remember – they’d crossed paths with another caravan near Sikurzoi when Inej was around eleven, and among many other births and deaths that were announced in a usual information exchange someone mentioned that old Bishal Maji’s heart gave out. Whatever Devnand had felt at the moment – anger, sadness, relief – he couldn’t recall it now.
‘Do you miss him?’ Inej asked gently, always compassionate, and he shook his head.
‘No. But shall I tell you a secret? Something I’ve never told anyone.’
She tilted her head, listening. Devnand contained a smile. Secrets seemed to find his daughter like lost children’s names found them.
‘I used to miss my father so much, in the first years, I’d cry myself to sleep.’
‘But Mama told me he was…’
‘Terrible, yes. But here’s the trick. He wasn’t always terrible.’
Inej inhaled sharply and dipped her chin.
‘You mean, he was kind… but only sometimes?’
‘Exactly. He could be charming, and then there wasn’t a merrier place in the world than by his side. He had a nice voice and knew more songs than I can recount. He knew how to play guitar – probably the only thing I wanted to learn from him until we left, and then I couldn’t look at it.’
‘So, you missed the good parts.’
Devnand rubbed his stubble and turned to look into the bottomless darkness of the sea.
‘Memory is a tricky thing. It seems to favor the good parts. But you see, my father’s good parts were somewhere out there with his many bad ones, and your aunt’s nightmares and our mother’s fears were right there in front of me. So I stopped missing him. And since then, I miss missing him,’ the night wind stung his eyes. He blinked it away. This wasn’t about him. ‘I wish my father was someone to miss.’
He felt Inej’s arm on his waist as she moved closer. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head because it was not like her crew had no other things to do other than watch them.
‘Whatever pains you pains me tenfold, meja, and, if I could have it my way, you wouldn’t have to part with anyone you hold dear, ever. But since you must, maybe look at it like this: what is yearning, if not love stretched with distance?’
Inej put both her arms around him and squeezed hard enough that he coughed out a laugh. Her eyes sparkled with tears when she looked up at him, but she was smiling.
‘Now, now,’ Devnand said, resting his cheek on her forehead. ‘You don’t want to get all sentimental right ahead of the battle.’
‘Don’t worry, I can put it away when needed,’ Inej replied in a formal voice that made him chuckle, untangling herself and straightening her coat, instantly all business.
She had the opportunity to prove it just a few moments later when a whistle came down from the barrelman. Without a sound, Inej sprang from Devnand’s side and flew up the rigging to the crow’s nest with the swiftness that awoke the old pride in his heart. He stepped down from the forecastle deck and moved closer to the stern, watching her look in her long glass in the direction the boy showed.
Then she was climbing down equally swiftly. When she landed on top of one of the barrels, the crew was already gathering, ready to hear her commands.
Inej spoke in an even voice, but on the silent deck it sounded loud and clear, and Devnand could hear the same metal notes to it she’d used interrogating Hervik. She was right – his sweet girl was nowhere to be seen, and the Wraith was ready to lead.
‘The Siren is moving west about three miles ahead and two o’clock from us,’ she said. ‘Mr Specht, adjust the course.’
‘Aye, Captain,’ the first mate echoed from the quarterdeck.
‘We’ll approach them from starboard. Merv?’
‘Canons at the ready, Cap.’
‘Remember, aim at the masts and deck, not the haul. We need to send a message, not to sink them. Boarding crew?’
Several crew members she’d selected previously responded with a bunch of ‘aye’s’.
‘Keep your hooks at hand and follow my lead.’
She gave several more commands, making sure everyone remembered their role. She’d even thought to put the crew member who was good with guns in the crow’s nest, and Devnand could hear the boy – Dannie or something like that – charging his rifle to cover them from above.
Devnand knew he was supposed to be scared – his daughter was about to lead an attack on a ship full of armed bad people. But he could see the air changing around her, the same way it used to when she stepped on the wire. Whoever was on that ship, they didn’t know what was coming for them.
‘She looks at home,’ Priya said by his side. Her presence had become known to him at some point, comfortable and soothing, so he just reached for her hand and squeezed it without looking away from their daughter. The solemn acceptance in her voice echoed his thoughts.
‘Yes. But she’ll be at home with us, too. And in Ketterdam. Wherever there’s someone who loves her.’
He turned to his wife finally. She looked just as calm and collected as Inej, and she held their blowing pipes and knives under her arm.
As Devnand took his weapons from her, he met Inej’s eyes. She glanced between the two of them and nodded with a grim expression. It had taken them some time and patience to persuade her they wouldn’t stay behind in this mission, but she’d still managed to win a small concession: their agreement to shoot the first darts from The Wraith and only cross over to the slaver’s ship on a plank when it was placed. Devnand was set on making sure that plank appeared immediately after the attack’s launch.
The last-minute preparations made time trickle away swiftly. Soon, the dark outline of The Siren – large, bulky, and, unlike their ship, generously lit – was growing quickly slightly to their right. He could feel the crew was buzzing with anticipation, and yet they were silent and still. Many of them were Barrell born and bred – they knew violence and hunger for whatever crooked justice they could get, but they also knew power when they saw it.
And Inej, at this moment, dark and silent at the bow of her ship, was a creature of power.
‘Well, Petal,’ Devnand whispered as he watched their daughter take her boarding rope with a hook on its end. ‘Let’s see our fledgling fly.’
He knew she felt just as somber as he did. And yet, among the cannon shots and first yelps on the other side, as they followed their daughter closely on the offensive – he heard Priya’s laugh, and it counted for a win.
And soon after, as they were standing on The Siren’s deck, the slavers’ crew overpowered even before he’d run out of darts (they really didn’t see them coming, in any way) – he could swear he saw wings behind Inej’s shoulders, and it felt like a victory.
