A black coach approached the front steps of the Slat. Kaz sat on a stool at the bar while Inej skinned an apple with one of her knives. They had been discussing potential methods of travel to seek out her family when a knock thundered on the wooden door.
"I'll get it," Kaz gripped his cane and walked over to the door. He slid the lock out of place and pulled the handle to let in a cool breeze. The brisk current of cool air whispered through the threshold as if some ghostly presence was attempting to sneak past.
On the other side stood a figure, a stout and compact man, his form obscured beneath a flowing cloak that cascaded like the earth itself. Greasy tendrils of brown hair clung to his forehead, a testament to neglect, and perched upon his nose were spectacles so thin and fragile they seemed an afterthought. The cloak, a muddy tapestry, traced the contours of his frame down to the very hems that brushed against worn leather boots. Holes were sprouting around the soles and the laces were missing.
"Stay inside," the man's voice resembled that of what a mouse would sound like if they could speak. "The Elyon Prism has awoken. Should it draw near, it will spell your demise." He shuddered, shoulders hunching, and coughed thick muck into a handkerchief.
Kaz raised an eyebrow. He could feel Inej standing close behind him. He pondered asking the odd man what he meant but thought better than to waste his time. He shut the door in the man's face.
"Kaz!" Inej threw her hands in the air.
He seized her arm with firm authority, compelling her to face him. "He's a madman. We don't involve ourselves. There are more pressing matters at hand, understood?"
Her chin jutted out defiantly as she yanked her arm from his grasp. Kaz observed her determined stride back up the narrow stairwell, settling onto the counter with a calculated poise, resuming her engagement with a half-eaten apple.
"I don't mean to be harsh, Inej," for her sake, he placed a hand on the square of her back and moved it in gentle circling motions.
Tension unraveled in her shoulders, and with a subtle nod of gratitude, he withdrew his touch, resettling onto the stool. The map they had been consulting bore evidence of both apple juice stains and unsuccessful attempts to chart a viable route.
A few minutes of silence ticked.
"Can you kiss me again?" she whispered.
Kaz looked at her intently, mainly in shock.
It had been a week since the moment they shared in his bedroom. A week full of non-stop hustle, talks of business, and keeping things professional. The way it had always been between them. He was trying his hardest to heal, he truly was. His feelings for Inej were real and they were strong, yet the idea of touching too frequently still clung to his nerves. He believed she understood the level of his fears, but he wondered if he truly understood the depths of hers.
As they lay together that night, she confessed to him that she had never felt safer with another person in her life. Perhaps it was a yearning for reassurance, a need for a tangible reminder of the depth of his feelings for her. Inej had endured unimaginable pain and torture, a deliberate victim of circumstances beyond her control. Kaz couldn't comprehend why she chose him over anyone else who could have provided care and solace, but she did. He understood that changing her mind wouldn't come easily, and he had no desire for her to do so.
He wanted Inej. He yearned for her without the weight of obligation. However, Kaz knew she likely desired a closeness he hesitated to offer. He was aware that his boundaries could be painful and, perhaps, infuriating for her to endure. Yet, she would need to grasp that he required time-perhaps a substantial amount-to reach a point where he could wholeheartedly provide her with what she truly deserved.
He closed his eyes and drew in a trembling breath.
"Inej," he murmured, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't want to say it. Deep down, he wanted so badly to kiss her. That internal struggle held him back, preventing him from acting on that yearning.
She folded her hands in front of her and closed her own eyes. She gave a slight nod of understanding before she silently left Kaz alone at the bar.
"Inej," he called out, rising to his feet to follow her, only to trip over an upraised panel in the floorboard. Kaz muttered a curse under his breath before swiftly grabbing his cane from where it leaned on the edge of the counter. He sauntered in her direction, though not hearing where she went. The only logical destination from the hallway seemed to be his room. Climbing the stairs briskly, he reached his bedroom door and turned the round, metal knob.
"Inej," he repeated for a third time, but there was no sign of her.
Sighing, Kaz leaned his cane against the bedpost and settled onto his mattress. It was the same spot where they had shared a kiss. He didn't want to admit it, but he thought of it every night as he fell asleep. He was keenly aware that Inej, in her tiny room - a space he had secured for her after paying off her indenture to Tante Heleen in their early years of working together - was likely experiencing her own reflections.
Maybe it was better this way. He needed to focus on how they would find Pekka Rollins. Despite a week consumed by scheming and exhaustive research, he found himself without a single lead. The first evidence came to him through the note found in Colm Fahey's jurda fields in Novyi Zem, followed by the destruction of Inej's family home in Ravka. Two completely opposite countries. It wasn't uncommon for Rollins to have eyes everywhere, but the man had been lying low these past few years. The pieces of the puzzle refused to align. Just the fact that Rollins was making a comeback was confusing as hell.
The clock mounted above his dresser mirror read just after eight in the evening. It dawned on him that it was probably the right moment to wind down and retire for the night, given the absence of any other notable activities or prospects for the day.
Inej would come back. Even if she didn't, she would be safe tonight. There were plenty of times she had slept under the stars instead of the small quarters by his bedroom.
The flush in Inej's cheeks persisted hours after she had asked Kaz to kiss her again. What was she thinking? How desperate had she seemed? How could she ever face him casually again?
She ran for hours, the rhythmic pounding of her footsteps the best therapy for her cluttered mind. Endurance wasn't her forte, and her lungs burned in the brisk October air, but it helped nonetheless. The sun had long dipped below the horizon, yet she kept running, stealing occasional breaks to sip water and ease the sting in her chest.
She wouldn't return to the Slat tonight, she decided. She'd go back tomorrow around lunchtime to continue their planning, but until she could warm the damn warmth in her cheeks, she would avoid Kaz at all costs. She considered spending the night in her room at the Van Eck mansion, but she didn't feel like explaining her frazzled appearance to Wylan and Jesper.
She wished Nina were there. Nina always knew exactly what to do. Inej knew all of the Crows cared about her, but the connection she had with Nina was like no other. She was the long-lost sister she never knew she had. Now she was far away again. Perhaps she should write to her soon. Nina had not written to her, but she would appreciate Inej's letter, for sure.
Streetcorner after streetcorner, Inej ran and turned and twisted. She'd been going in the same three-mile loop, which was starting to get old, and it was rather dark. She wasn't sure the time but it seemed quiet enough to be late. Fewer people walked the streets and restaurants began to lock their doors.
Inej ran a hand against the flyaways that had escaped her braid to tickle her face. She glanced at the nearest club to guess her location. It seemed she was in East Stave. She wasn't too far from the Slat, she could go just a bit farther and sleep on the roof.
Thoughts of her parents clouded Inej's mind, and tears welled up, stinging her eyes more intensely than the crisp air did her lungs. Despite her reaction in Ravka, Inej staunchly refused to accept that it could be the end for her beloved Mama and Papa. In her heart, she clung to the conviction that they were still out there. There was nothing so deliberate that could separate them from her forever.
Kaz had once told her that hope was dangerous, and as much as she hated to agree with him, she did. Hope, indeed, held its own peril, but it also served as a driving force for exploration. Without hope, she wouldn't be plotting this revenge against Pekka Rollins. She wouldn't have the gutwrenching feeling that her parents were suffering elsewhere - alive, yet perhaps yearning for an end. Hope, with all its dangers, remained an integral force propelling her forward.
Thinking of Kaz had a peculiar way of banishing the tears from Inej's eyes. There was something about him that acted as a balm to her emotions, particularly the ones tinged with sadness. His lack of emotion for her made it evident he would never weep over her. Despite the tumultuous sea of feelings she harbored for him, he wielded a certain influence that subdued the ache of sorrow.
The sole of her rubber shoes skidded against the pavement mere feet from where the lopsided structure of the Slat stood. She slipped against the stone and fell to her knees. The rough stone surface met her, exacerbating the dagger wound on her shin that had been in the process of healing. A sharp rock cut through both the fabric of her trousers and the protective layers of bandages, eliciting a wince of pain from her.
Holding her cry to keep from drawing attention, Inej stuck her fist in her mouth and deftly shifted onto her backside. She swiftly worked to tie the bandage tightly, staunching the bleeding temporarily until she reached the safety of the Slat. The injury wasn't severe enough to necessitate an immediate change, and she figured she could wait until morning. She might need to replace some stitches, but it had been nearly healed anyway. She was confident she wouldn't bleed out overnight. Avoiding Kaz was more important than fixing the wound.
Tiny pebbles pricked at her palms as she swiftly brushed them away upon standing. Though her shin still throbbed, she knew she'd be able to climb the Slat easily enough.
Before she could take another step, the sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the air. Inej's breath caught in her throat, her instincts kicking in as she swiftly unsheathed her knives, Sankta Alina and Sankt Petyr. The world around her fell into a tense silence. With no indication of the shot's origin and no clue about the shooter's identity, the immediate unknown heightened the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.
A hand touched her shoulder and she spun faster than lightning, eyes wide. Sankta Alina nearly sliced across Kaz's cheek. He flinched in surprise.
"Kaz!" Her eyes somehow managed to widen even further, a mix of shock and relief flooding her expression.
He silenced her with a hush, gently placing a finger against his lips.
She saw Kaz note the blood that was quickly staining her pants, his eyes calculating. Scheming face.
He picked her up the way he always did when she was hurt, although this time she truly didn't need the coddling.
"Kaz," she whispered. His burnt-coffee brown eyes reflected the lamppost across the street as he looked down at her. She didn't resist his offer to carry her, but she was genuinely confused as to what was happening.
"Kaz," she repeated urgently, "Did you hear that gunshot? We need to get inside. Where did you even come from?" The questions tumbled out, a mixture of concern and bewilderment, as she clung to him for reassurance.
"Trust me, Inej. I heard it and I was glad to see you were close enough that I could come and get you. Just stay quiet and I'll get us both back inside." he took off with his good leg leading the remainder of the trip to safety. It wasn't uncommon to hear gunshots in the Barrel, but Inej didn't feel like being the one caught up in the trouble tonight.
The deserted streets stretched ahead as they hurried toward the front door. Once they'd made it to the threshold, Kaz made a choking noise.
Inej whipped her head around to look into his face, "What?" she demanded.
The color drained from his face in the moonlight as he nodded to the brick column to the left of the front doors. There, bathed in an eerie glow, the greasy man who had intruded on their meeting earlier sat slumped against the ground, blood coating the entirety of the fabric covering his chest.
Inej let out a small squeak as Kaz, with a swift movement, shouldered her view away from the dead man and led her inside. The door closed quietly but swiftly behind them, leaving them in the dimly lit entrance. Kaz turned to face where she had pressed her back against the wall.
Without a word, Kaz rushed over, seizing her face, and pressed his lips hard against hers.