"I heard an interesting whisper today," she smiled and pulled out the final plait of her braid. Kaz raised an eyebrow in question but didn't stop reading from the pile of documents on his lap in their bed.

She slipped across the room and stretched her tired muscles out along the mattress. She could feel his gaze on her, even with her eyes closed, and made sure to arch her back a little more than necessary. Over the jewel-colored mountain of pillows between them, she heard him slowly let out a deep breath, then set aside a contract onto the bedside table and go back to work. After slogging through the deluge tonight for some intel she was ready to be warm and dry. But Kaz never stopped working, even on the nights when his body forced him to sleep. Which was why the pillows were always on the bed.

All it had taken was one morning of his hand smoothing across a small patch of her stomach that had come exposed in the night. Still mostly asleep he'd thudded into the wall behind him in his attempt to flee, hyperventilating and his eyes rolling around in panic. Papers had flown into the air and spilled across the floor. For the rest of that day, she couldn't figure out if he was angrier at his reaction, or that he'd fallen asleep working.

After that, she made sure to shove several pillows between them any time they were on the bed. She also started sleeping against the wall so he had an easier escape. To be honest, she appreciated the barrier as well. Unexpected touch was a dangerous trigger for both of them. It was silly that pillows were the thing that kept their own turmoil in check. But somehow, without saying it, they knew it had created a way to keep parts of themselves safe to allow them to give the rest to each other.

When she'd settled her favorite few into position she watched the rain lash against the window of their room for a moment. Everything on her body relaxed in their companionable silence until he let out a rasp of,

"And?"

"Apparently you've impregnated some poor girl over at the White Rose. She swears on all the saints."

From the corner of her eye, she watched him, hoping to see at least a small reaction from this ridiculous rummer. The whole brothel had been buzzing with excitement at the possibility. In all fairness, it had been quite a slow day.

"Impossible," he easily replied, flipping to the next document in his stack.

Her body now stretched, she rolled to her side to look at him, pushing a few pillows out of the way, "obviously."

"Not for that reason," he elaborated, eyes still fixed to the papers in his lap. She stared at him, waiting. Knowing Kaz it could be any reason under the sun.

"And?" She broke the silence.

"I've just heard that most men are...sterile after the Queen Lady's plague."

"You survived the plague?" She immediately sat up. "You had to have been…"

"10."

Her brain ached from how quickly all the puzzle pieces she'd been holding onto slammed into place. The murky picture of his past finally started to take shape for her. Boys - too young to have left home. Quickly swindled by greed in a city that put profit over human life. Suffering through unimaginable terror together only to then be caught in a plague.

"Jordie didn't make it."

"No," she whispered, her eyes quickly filling with tears. He set aside all his work and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her. Her heart shattered for him, for his brother, for what they'd been forced to live through. Worse yet that by 10 he'd had any hope of a childhood ripped away from him when life spat him out into this saint's forsaken city. Then all the pieces of her shattered heart crumbled to sand as a final realization slid into place. Ships weren't cheap, no matter what Wylan had done for Kaz. After the initial shock of his gift had worn off she hadn't been able to figure out how he'd done it. Until now. He had liquidated his entire past to give her a future. The beautiful agony of it all rose inside her, threatening to overtake her, to drown her with everything he'd given to her - especially this piece of his past.

She climbed over the mountain of pillows, pushing and kicking them out of her way. They fell with soft plunks to the ground until there was no space left between them. There was a wary look in his eyes, but he uncrossed his arms and she wrapped her own around his chest and crushed him against her as hard as she could. She didn't care that her tears were soaking into his vest. All that mattered was that she could hear the rapid thumping of his heart against her ear. Most people in Ketterdam thought he didn't even have a heart beating in his chest. All she wanted to do was cradle it in her hands.

He didn't pull away. Instead, she felt his fingers lightly raked through all her loose hair pooling around them. She burned to ask him more, she wanted to know everything. But each little speck of light into his soul was a beautiful gift to her. Each one meant more than all the other things they had accomplished together. She treasured each one with her deepest reverence.

"Honestly," his gravelly voice finally broke back through her thoughts, "I thought I'd be dead before I'd have this conversation with someone."

"About the plague?" She wondered with a sniffle.

"No," he let out the tiniest laugh. She wouldn't have even noticed it if her head wasn't still pressed to his chest. The realization hit her and she let out a little laugh as well, wiping away the last of her tears against his vest. They both let out a deep breath and the tiniest bead of jealousy started to roll around in her chest,

"Someone?"

His fingers raked through her hair with perfect pressure, "just you. Always you."

She yawned against his shirt and closed her eyes, "you're going to need a bigger room."

"What's wrong with this room?" He shifted under her and she started to pull away. But to her surprise, his hand caught her wrist and tucked it back against his side. She snuggled in deeper, her squirming causing the last of the pillows to plop to the floor.

"How are you going to fit a bigger bed in here?" She yawned again and then smiled at the contemplative noise that left his throat.