Inej woke with his name on her lips.
"Kaz." Barely a whisper. But even with her eyes closed she somehow knew he wasn't there. There were footsteps approaching, and she struggled to force herself to sit half-upright, reaching for her belt where a knife should be. But there was nothing there. As she looked up, she saw green eyes, and a strand of hair dangled down and tickled her nose.
"Nina," she said, almost disbelievingly, and let herself lie down again with a relieved breath. It felt like it had been months or years since she had seen her. Nina nodded, reaching to pet Inej's hair with one hand, and Inej couldn't help but lean into the touch. But the more that Inej looked at her, the less familiar Nina looked; her face was gaunt, even in the diffuse light of the late afternoon, and there were bags under her eyes. With a jolt, Inej remembered the parem. "Are you okay?"
"Saints, am I okay?" Nina said, and Inej followed Nina's gaze down her own body. It was an ironic question, she supposed, and a weak chuckle drew itself from her throat, the first in days. Nina laughed too, but Inej could hear in the sound of it that she was tired.
"Kaz left," Inej said after a moment. She wasn't sure that she even wanted him here, but she couldn't resist the urge to ask. Nina nodded.
"He'll be back. He went to go look for a medik ."
Inej took a breath and, to her surprise, found it shook as she exhaled. Something about being with Kaz had made her able to keep a grip on herself, hold in the emotion and put on a cool facade despite the circumstances. Part of it, she knew, was an instinct born from that same place inside her that had known he wouldn't trade for her if she was useless to him; she did not want to feel his disdain, or worse, his pity. But she also knew, because she had known him for so long and they had been through so many different things together, that in that moment he had needed her to put on that facade. He would not know what to do with her if she wasn't strong. She would do whatever it took not to fully fall apart in front of him. But Nina could be trusted to hold her heart gently.
"I'm never going to walk the high wire again," Inej said, her voice tight. She looked away from her legs and up at the ceiling, not at Nina's face. Her vision blurred.
"Hon…" Nina said, her voice gentle, and her hand petting Inej's hair continued, brushing over a bit of her forehead too. Nina's hand was colder than Inej expected it to be, but it was still some comfort. "We're going to find someone that can help you."
"It's too late," Inej said, shaking her head, and finding that her hands were starting to tremble. "They've set wrong. It's been two days."
Nina's hand stilled, and then she gathered Inej up in her arms, holding her tight in a half-sideways hug. Inej turned her head and let it rest on Nina's shoulder, trying to focus on breathing even as it felt like her throat kept getting tighter, forcing her to take quick, shallow breaths. I can't do this. I can't. I can't. This was a type of helplessness that she hadn't felt in a long time, and that she had fought so hard to escape, but now that it was here again it felt almost like it had never left. All of it was for nothing.
She reached and put a hand over her heart. As she did, she felt on her forearm the hilt of her knife as it pressed against her chest. Feeling it there made the panic ease a little. Her throat opened enough for her to breathe deeper.
"We'll figure it out," Nina said. The gentleness of her tone made the hopelessness subside, just a little. Maybe even if things wouldn't be the same again, and even if she couldn't depend on Kaz now, she could depend on Nina. And the others. Jesper would never leave her, though the thought of his anguish made her feel sick. "Have you eaten anything?"
"Yes," Inej murmured, not moving away. "But I'm not hungry."
"Impossible," Nina said. She kept holding Inej with one arm, and reached down with the other into the still mostly-full tin of food, popping a hazelnut into her mouth. Even though her tone was light, Inej could see that she struggled to swallow, and the pallor of her face was even more sickly than before. "Try to eat a little more. You need to get your strength back."
Inej sighed. Nina held out three hazelnuts in her palm, and after a moment Inej took them. She ate them slowly, and Nina held her until Inej was finished and pulled away a little. She lay down and reached to pull Kaz's coat back over herself as the tiredness began to roll over her again.
"Sing again?" she whispered. "Like you did on the Ferolind."
"Saints no. Not again," Nina said, but Inej knew she was protesting only on principle.
"Please?" she asked, and even though it was quiet and tired she didn't feel pathetic when she said it. Nina's sigh was dramatic and it brought a ghost of a smile to Inej's lips.
"Inej, I love you dearly, but you need to stop getting injured and then guilting me into doing this for you when you know I can't refuse."
She sang. Inej laughed, and then closed her eyes, and let sleep take her.
When Inej next woke, she felt better rested, though judging by the light level in the room she couldn't have slept for more than an hour or two. A figure stepped into the doorway—a very tall woman with white-blonde hair, in the uniform of the Anvil, one of Ketterdam's pleasurehouses. Beside Inej, Nina stirred, and then sat up straight, trying to look like she had already been awake.
"Katsya," Nina said. A Ravkan name. This was no ordinary medik . "Thank you for coming. This is Inej."
Despite herself, Inej's eyes were still trained on the door as she sat up. Once Katsya had stepped in, Kaz was behind her. The stairs had done him no favors—he was leaning with all his weight on his good leg now. He glanced at her, and Inej looked away.
"Hello, Inej," Katsya said, coming over to them. Her voice was low and soothing. "May I?" She motioned to Kaz's coat, which still covered her legs, and she nodded. Katsya picked up the jacket and folded it, putting it aside.
"Can you roll these up?" Katsya asked, gesturing to Inej's trousers. They were intentionally form-fitting—she couldn't have her clothing getting caught on things when she climbed—and would be hard to roll up even in the best of circumstances, but the idea of trying to force them up over the broken bones made her feel sick. Instead, she brought Sankt Petyr out of her sleeve and carefully cut down the length of the seam, from her ankles up to the top of each knee, keeping her hand steady despite the pain. She pulled the fabric away, and Katsya nodded approvingly and began her examination.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Katsya asked. "Mister Brekker filled me in on some of the details, but…"
Inej looked over to Kaz. He had come to a stop, standing near the door, but he wasn't looking at her. He hadn't known all the details to tell Katsya—he hadn't asked for them, and Inej had not volunteered them. He was so practical that the situation at hand was all that really mattered to him; the reality of the present was the only thing that he could twist to fit his desires, while the past in its painful truths evaded his control. Even though he was looking at the wall, and one might mistake his expression for disinterestedness, Inej could tell he was listening carefully.
"A mallet," she said finally. "Here—" She pointed first to the lower half of her right leg where the first hit had been—"And here." She pointed to her left knee. In her peripheral vision, she could see that Kaz moved, just a little, his chin dipping only a centimeter and his eyes watching where she pointed.
"And how long ago were they broken?" Katsya asked.
Inej could feel Kaz's eyes on her as surely as if there were hot coals burning into her flesh. But she didn't turn to look at him.
"...Two days ago, if I had to guess," she said. Kaz's hands curled into fists at his sides. Inej usually thought it was a blessing that she knew him so well that she could interpret each minute expression, but now she wished she wasn't so attuned to his every movement in her periphery. She felt Nina's hand running over her hair again, and let it draw her back into her body as Katsya examined the damage. After a moment, Katsya revealed her assessment.
"It's fixable," she said, and the spark of hope in Inej's chest sprung back to life. She found herself reaching again to touch her sleeve, to the hilt of the knife hidden beneath the fabric—it provided a different comfort when the thought of being the Wraith again was no longer a fool's hope.
"But we'll have to rebreak them, unfortunately," Katsya said. "They've set wrong, and we want to avoid lasting damage. After I set them, I will heal them, so the pain should not last long."
Nina's hand petting her hair stopped, resting on the top of her head. As the words started to sink in, Inej looked to Kaz. His back was turned, and she could see the tension in his shoulders. She took a long breath, steeling herself.
"Do it," she said.
Katsya nodded. She helped Inej lie down, a little further away from the window so that she was accessible from all sides. She heard her give instructions to Nina, but to Inej her voice sounded like it was coming through a wall of water. And then Nina's hands were at her waist, holding her firmly in place. Inej felt her throat tighten dangerously again.
Saints protect me. She didn't even know what she was asking them to protect her from, because she had agreed to this pain. Nina's eyes above her were apologetic, but firm, and Inej shook her head. Her gaze shot across the room to Kaz, but he wasn't looking at her—he hadn't turned back. Instead, he was stepping out the door.
"Kaz," she said, not knowing why she said it. He stopped. She opened her mouth to speak again but found that no sound came out; she didn't even know what she wanted to say to him, only that she couldn't watch him walk away from her. He turned, and stepped closer, stopping only a few feet away from them. She wanted to reach for him; she wanted him to come closer; she wanted, she wanted, she wanted, and all of it tumbled together in her mind, each thought displaced by the whirling fear before she could grasp it. Their eyes met, and Inej let out a breath, letting the tension leech out of her body with it.
The moment that her muscles relaxed, Katsya took advantage of the situation, snapping the bone back into place.