lonely crowds
.
"And I'll use you as a warning sign."
.
. .
She can tell when he knows.
In the lamp lit room, she sees his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh. Inej doesn't think she's ever heard Kaz laugh, but that shoulder shake is unmistakable.
She perches herself on the rail of his fire escape. Her silence is so thorough, not even the birds startle away.
Then again, crows remember faces, he said, and she had fed these creatures many times. Inej places her fingers on the cool window sill, the condensation builds under her skin as she pushes it up. Kindled warmth floods out.
Ketterdam streets are cold, she has learned.
He doesn't lift his gaze from the paper stacked in front of him, but he says, "the sea free of slavers, Wraith?"
Her nimble feet caress the floorboards. "Yes. Quite," she says, tone dry, "thank you." He glances at her, lifting a brow.
This is the first time he sees her, after giving her freedom back, (and a boat, and a port, and her family).
They do not touch, not once, but there is more than one way to care for someone.
..
"That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind."
..
She tries to see him at least once or twice a month.
Inej thinks of him when the wind changes in her sails, when her hair frizzes with the salty air. (She thinks of him a devastating amount, when she visits Nina.)
The fourth time she visits him, he walks in dirty. She was perched on his desk, though she knows there is a chair.
He is bloody, and muddy. His eyes are cold, and his hands are clad in gloves.
The first thing he does is try to hide them, uselessly, she is sure he knows. The second thing he does is freeze up. She is familiar with Kaz Brekker's armour.
The moment, he seems on the verge of taking a step closer, his conscience—or maybe his soul—ricochetes, like Jesper's shots off metal walls.
The third thing he does is drop the act, and that, she has no way to explain, but she can comfort him, with her words. She says:
"We all have comforts, Kaz, things we fall back on." Walking passed the Menagerie has her seizing; a newspaper makes Wylan blue; Jesper becomes itchy when he sees a deck of cards; Nina and parem. "It's all right, you owe me nothing."
Kaz and people. "I owe you far too much."
You've paid any notion of a debt to me. His heart is black in the oddest way. There are She can tell when he knows.
In the lamp lit room, she sees his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh. Inej doesn't think she's ever heard Kaz laugh, but that shoulder shake is unmistakable.
She perches herself on the rail of his fire escape. Her silence is so thorough, not even the birds startle away.
Then again, crows remember faces, he said, and she had fed these creatures many times. Inej places her fingers on the cool window sill, the condensation builds under her skin as she pushes it up. Kindled warmth floods out.
Ketterdam streets are cold, she has learned.
He doesn't lift his gaze from the paper stacked in front of him, but he says, "the sea free of slavers, Wraith?"
Her nimble feet caress the floorboards. "Yes. Quite," she says, tone dry, "thank you." He glances at her, lifting a brow.
This is the first time he sees her, after giving her freedom back, (and a boat, and a port, and her family).
They do not touch, not once, but there is more than one way to care for someone.
..
She tries to see him at least once or twice a month.
Inej thinks of him when the wind changes in her sails, when her hair frizzes with the salty air. (She thinks of him a devastating amount, when she visits Nina.)
The fourth time she visits him, he walks in dirty. She was perched on his desk, though she knows there is a chair.
He is bloody, and muddy. His eyes are cold, and his hands are clad in gloves.
The first thing he does is try to hide them, uselessly, she is sure he knows. The second thing he does is freeze up. She is familiar with Kaz Brekker's armour.
The moment, he seems on the verge of taking a step closer, his conscience—or maybe his soul—ricochetes, like Jesper's shots off metal walls.
The third thing he does is drop the act, and that, she has no way to explain, but she can comfort him, with her words. She says:
"We all have comforts, Kaz, things we fall back on." Walking passed the Menagerie has her seizing; a newspaper makes Wylan blue; Jesper becomes itchy when he sees a deck of cards; Nina and parem. "It's all right, you owe me nothing."
Kaz and people. "I owe you far too much."
You've paid any notion of a debt to me. His heart is black in the oddest way. There are days when he does kind deeds no one else would think to, and Inej wonders if her Saints are ever wagering with his heart.
Then, there were days like this, where Ketterdam was demanding it.
..
"I found love where it wasn't supposed to be."
..
"How is that boy of yours?" Her father asks.
Together, they sit in a tree, on the thinnest branches. The sun is a cool purple and Inej knows not to look at it. Her mama whittles wood beneath them at the trunk. It was always Mama's hobby. She was surprised to see how much she had improved.
Inej visits her parents through strategic schedules. They inform her of when and where they will be. Inej plans her slaver ambushes accordingly.
"He's okay." Her father is silent, then:
He turns. "Does he… treat you well?" Inej lifts a brow at him, and he reddens slightly. She hates how her parents walk on eggshells around her, but she loves it too, loves them. "He's a nice boy. It's just… handshakes are customary in Kerch, no?" She nods.
Inej remembers how Kaz has strained himself as he said hello to her papa.
She never told them of her struggles, or Kaz's. She's aware that they have a faint idea. They asked about her scarred over tattoo.
Her mama especially sees how she tenses, when walking by certain men—not men that she knows—but just those who are familiar. When one calls out to her, her glare trembles and withers.
Her father continues, "he seemed uncomfortable, and if he's ever forced you to…" kill people, dupe them, steal from them, "touch- him."
Oh, Saints. "No, not at all." She glances away from him. "He paid my indenture, gave me a boat, brought you to me."
He saved her.
"Okay," he says, "I was just checking, meja."
Papa reaches across the branches to put a hand on her shoulder. She missed this most. The casual familiarity of contact, with someone you love. She thinks of Kaz, and the way he can barely kiss her neck, hold her hand, (the way she can barely handle a kiss on the neck, the way his fingers tangle with hers.
Little Lynx.)
If anything, Kaz forces himself.
..
"Right in front of me."
..
On her next visit, she enters the crow club.
The place is a wooden, glowing fire, and a sweaty stench fills her nose. Many of her friends, maybe family, don't notice her until she is at the tables. Kaz's eyes meet hers immediately as she sits, unsurprised. Gloveless hands give way to meticulous shuffling.
He may be a barrel boss, but his hands are unparalleled.
Anika yells, "Wraith!" And an avalanche of kindness flows into her ears, along with leers and bets.
Once it settles, and everyone goes back to their games and dances, Roeder pushes a glass of scotch in front of her. He sits in the stool next to her, clearly interested in talking.
"I don't want my job back," Inej says, and he startles, before sheepishly nodding.
"Glad you're okay 'Nej," he answers, and she picks up the cup in her tiny hand, tilting it toward him in thanks.
He leaves, red cushioned stool still imprinted with his presence.
"Lovely fan club, Wraith," says Kaz.
The air here is different without Per Haskell, or even Jesper, wasting his life away at the tables. Is it horrible of her to miss someone who was ruining themselves?
She hardly gets a word in with Kaz that night, but his eyes are warmer than she remembers.
They used to be stale, bitter. They are a fresh pot of coffee now.
A couple hours into watching him work, Inej grows as sweaty as everyone else, those who scream and yelp. They throw their arms around each other, mugs of beer frothing.
A fight breaks out, and ends just as quick with the smack of a crow-headed cane.
The heat is overwhelming, but Inej hates being bare. Her shoulders are forever covered, lest she be a temptress, as Tante Heleen liked to claim.
No one comes near her, and it's entirely to do with Kaz's glare, but if they were to step close or even touch her, their femur would be in two, and they'd be choking on the remnants. She can protect herself.
She stands, and her jacket comes off. She places it on her stool before sitting again. Kaz looks at her calculatingly.
He opens his mouth, and closes it, shuffling his deck.
"I'm getting another drink," she says, "would you like one as well?" He shakes his head, rolling up his sleeves.
His forearms are bare.
Inej notes how the Crows don't stare at his fingers. This must be a common thing. It makes her a little happy to see his efforts.
She has always been tiny and she pushes her way through the Dregs without touching a single person, weaving like water.
She stops at the bar and Specht meets her eyes. "What business?" She orders the same, and he pours her another, but before she takes it, he says, "you look beautiful tonight." He grins.
Inej's spine freezes. Tempting little lynx. Why do you think they stole you? Easy, beautiful meat, provoking men with every step.
Her eyes go wide, and she nods. His grin falters. "Are you all right?" She nods again more harshly. Hesitating, Specht turns away.
She thinks she understands Kaz's gloves. All she wants is to cocoon in her jacket.
When she gets back to his table, he notices immediately, doesn't ask outright. He doesn't ask at all, and she's glad for it.
He isn't wearing his gloves. She isn't tempting anyone. People make their own choices.
She's choosing to have fun.
Inej uncoils her hair, and it falls, dark and thick. It rests atop her shoulders. Kaz pauses, lifting his eyes to her as he wipes down the table.
This time when his mouth opens, he says, "you look beautiful."
She hates that everything in her seizes. It's Kaz. This isn't something to fear, a compliment from the boy she's always wanted to look at her.
Easy, beautiful meat, provoking men with every step.
The night goes on. Her jacket sits on her shoulders within the hour, and his gloves secure on him too.
Her hair stays down until closing. She helps clean up. He doesn't.
"No one fears a man who stoops to their level," Inej remembers him saying to her once.
He is gone, maybe waiting for her to meet him in his room.
She doesn't. She jumps the roofs to Port 22, and then takes her ship out of Ketterdam.
Why do you think they took you?
..
On her next stay in Ketterdam, she doesn't visit him. She goes to the Van Eck estate, and Jesper gives her a hug. Wylan too.
But: she stops off in Kaz's room, when she knows he won't be there. Inej leaves a carving of a crow, whittled by her mother's soft hands.
And as she sails the sea, she wonders what he's done with it.
..
"Talk some sense to me."
..
He seems surprised to see her, when she does show up. Today, no gloves hide him. Today, no dirt mucks his pristine tie or button up.
He loosens the tie, hanging it on the back of the door.
"Hello, Kaz," she says.
"Inej."
He sets his cane against his desk, before sitting on his bed and pulling off his shoes.
"I haven't visited in a while." She wants to curl in on herself.
"I know," and he meets her gaze.
His shirt buttons release, one by one. She looks at him, and sees a boy, tall and crooked and strong. Kaz doesn't break a deal, never will. He paid her indenture. He would never revoke such a thing. Inej wonders, sometimes—just briefly—if this is all he wants from life.
The night goes slowly, one second ticking by three at a time.
The kerosene lantern flickers. He does his work at his desk while she feeds the crows.
She sees it then, a flower pot, weeded and centred with a shrub. A wooden crow sits in the soil, light and jagged against the rich brown.
She takes it into her hands. Without realizing it, Inej slips inside, and he is looking at her.
Her hands clench on the carving as she leans against the window sill.
His eyebrows are drawn, hand tight on a pen. His suspenders are pulled off his shoulders to hang from his sides. Kaz has always dressed like a Merch, demanding respect.
Finally, he sighs, a frustrated noise. "Did I overstep?" He drops his pen lightly and looks away from her.
Inej freezes. Winter no longer sucks the air out of Ketterdam, but it might as well have stayed.
"No," she says, "you've done nothing wrong."
"I've done many things that are wrong." He gives her a tiny stare. A barrel boss should be proud. He plays the role. All the roles.
"As have I."
"Forced sins that aren't yours," he presses, and she startles up her eyes. Yes, they are. In my heart, they are. "Don't do that. I say you're beautiful and you run off for five months." She swallows, and shame courses through her.
"If I overstepped, I'm sorry," he finishes, and turns back to the paper.
They are both so terrible with words. She wants him to understand. It wasn't him. Never has it been him.
So she takes light, painless steps to his desk. Placing the crow before him softly, she says, because it's all she can say, "Heleen called me beautiful, and tempting, and pretty."
The little lynx who deserved everything she got.
The ink spills. Like he said it never would again, it seeps into the pages as he grits his teeth.
He shifts his stack of papers but makes no effort to clean the spill. "You're horribly ugly," he says, and she barks a little pity laugh. "Even if I could stomach it, I wouldn't touch you."
They both know that's not true. It's the kindest lie she's ever heard.
She wishes she could be confident like Nina, bat her eyes and pucker her lips. She has prayed to the saints for reprieve, to let her walk by the Menagerie or even a leering man without tensing.
Kaz seems to know how to settle her, without touch. "You said you'd have me without armour." He lines up his pages with a knock on his desk, filing them away in his desk. "I can't give that to you, not right now."
She can't seem to either. He says one final thing, "but I want to."
Inej feels her soles anchor the hardwood, heavy like she's never been. She reaches for the wooden crow, thumbing it between her.
He is in front of her then, cradling her fingers in his palm. He is tense, cool skin of white caressing her dark knuckles and breathing her air.
"I do too," she says.
The seconds pass, one by one, and at the end of the night, she leaves.
..
"And I'll use you as a focal point,"
..
On the next visit, she thinks he's lost his chestplate.
"Stay."
The night is dark, and muggy. It sticks to the bricks and onto her hands. She stares at him over the railing.
He is at his desk, and she is on his fire escape's railing.
His position is open, in the way his cane is against the door, and his tie is loose. His gloves are off and his suspenders are hanging from his hips.
His hair is shaggy, and sticking out and Inej thinks he looks boyishly attractive in a way Kaz Brekker shouldn't.
"I won't stay," she says, heels digging into the columns of railing holding her up, "I will not-" waste my life trying to fix you.
She doesn't get to finish her sentence, because he interrupts with, "I meant the night." He swallows, and lifts his fingers to his tie. "Stay the night."
The night.
Her silence is piercing, she can feel as it crawls out of her ribcage and into his.
He adds smoothly, "you don't have to."
She slides off the rail, and onto the grate of the fire escape. It makes no noise. He watches as she pulls the coil from her hair and sets her shoulders.
She takes her residence, back to the wall, watching him.
For an hour or so, he continues to work, occasionally sighing or cracking a bone. Inej grows weary as the lantern dies. And she's nearly asleep when she feels a weight on the mattress.
How it creaks.
Inej flinches, arms guarding her torso on instinct.
The weight is gone. Her eyes open to see him, dress shirt and tie gone, leaving the dark muscle tee he wears underneath and loose boxers.
Kaz's eyes are hard on her. She tastes shame.
But as he turns away, she feels a crowded loneliness, like she's in a Ravkan market. She needs directions home but she doesn't speak the native tongue. And so, on impulse, slipping across the mattress, she snags his wrist. Inej is quick and terrifying in her silences.
He jerks away, nearly ripping her off the bed.
She knows not to touch him. In the dark, she scurries for purchase on the sheets. In the muggy, sad dark, she whispers, "stay?"
All they want is to touch each other.
He stays, and there is a foot between them, at least, and neither sleeps well. Inej asks herself over and over, is this even worth it?
She looks at the boy across from her, soaking in sweat and grimacing. Is it worth it?
Inej doesn't know.
..
Her first night on The Wraith after she slept next to Kaz is worse, not a wink. The bed is cold, and she can't rise from it. She's tied to it by heavy shackles.
Inej has never been good at picking locks. He has, except ones his own creation, of course.
The next night is the same, but she does not lay in bed.
She mans the deck, taking Kerika's shift—another victim of trafficking, curvy and gorgeous.
As she lets her damp hair down, the spray of the ocean cools her, and she wonders just briefly, if Kaz thought she was beautiful at all, when she lay down next to him.
The thought makes her warm, in a lovely way.
A scary one too.
..
"So I don't lose sight of what I want."
..
Since they can't seem to sleep, they talk.
They never ask if it's worth it. Inej knows it shouldn't be, but hearts and heads rarely agree.
In the dark, warm night, she slips into his room. Kaz scans her quickly, taking in her leather and knives and tight hair.
"Do you own sleep clothes, or do you enjoy sleeping like an armoury?" He quirks his lips up at her.
She doesn't know how to answer. Her sleep clothes consist of underwear, a sheet to cover her, and the sway of the sea.
His eyebrows furrow. Then, he moves on.
He limps to his drawers and pulls out a shirt: a matching muscle tee to his. "Would you like this?"
She would like it very much, but she shakes her head. He sets it on his desk: if she changes her mind.
She doesn't.
(But in the morning, she takes it, looking over at him. He slept. He rolls over now, eyes brown and blurry.
With a shirt in her hands, she leaves.)
..
His shirt brushes her kneecaps and sits too wide on her shoulders.
It smells like blood, crows, wolves and a hint of waffles. It smells like Kaz, after he spent time with their ragtag group (family).
She sleeps well, rocking with the boat.
..
(She wears the shirt next time, and she faces him on the small bed. He faces her. Their fingers verge on meeting, and then:
They touch, finger to finger, thumb on wrist. That's how it starts, or maybe they are already in the middle.)
. .
.
.
.
to be continued.
Song: "I Found" by Amber Run