Archive of Our Own

Into the Night

She’s wandering in the dark, but not the kind that is simply the absence of light. No, this is something more, something with teeth. 

Something that wants to swallow her whole.

As she moves forward—or maybe backward—she’s searching, hands out and grasping, driven by instinctual desperation, an almost animal need. 

There is no light to guide her to her goal, no warmth to draw her near. Phantom fingers trace icy trails over her skin, leaving prickles in their wake. She is lost, hopelessly and unendingly, and she throws her head back and screams, but the sound only echoes into the void.

With a jerk, Nina startles awake, heart pounding like thunder as she gasps for breath, sweat beading at her hairline.

The constant, overwhelming need takes over, and soon she is trembling, head aching. Any rational thought is drowned out by a craving for the very thing that landed her in this mess. 

Sitting up, she digs her fingers into her palms, fighting the intense desire to wake Matthias where he is sleeping next to her and beg him to help her get her hands on jurda parem. The sting of her fingernails digging into her skin grounds her in the present, and slowly, her breathing starts to even out, though the need is still pulsing through her whole body.

Knowing there is no way she can fall back asleep now, she pulls her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them and staring into the dark.

She’s not been sitting there long when Matthias stirs beside her, limbs thrashing, inaudible words falling from his lips. Out of instinct, she reaches out for the life rushing in his veins to calm his racing heart and soothe him.

There is nothing there, just shadows and frigid cold. She can’t find his pulse this way, can’t hear his lungs rapidly filling with air.

All her life, Nina’s power fit her like a second skin; it was made for her, steady and strong and always there when she needed it. 

To lose the connection to the very heart of who she is devastates her. She can’t even lower her own heart rate anymore, let alone anyone else’s.

But she tries, forgetting for a moment. All she receives for her efforts are spasming hands and aching bones, and a ringing emptiness in her soul that she does not want to confront.

The self-hatred she’s been working to fight back for the last few days comes flooding forward violently, and angry, unwanted tears burn her eyes as she tangles her fingers in his shirt with one hand and uses the other to brush damp strands of hair off his forehead, bent over him and mumbling soft nonsense in his ear in a rather sad attempt to soothe him without her power. 

She is next to useless like this and it kills her to see him in pain.

When his eyelids flutter open, he reaches for her. For a brief second, she is reminded of the first moment when she’d roused him in his cell at Hellgate, his hands around her neck, when the only thought in her mind was that she didn’t blame him.

This moment is wildly different, a living example of how far they’ve come. This time, he wraps his fingers around her wrist, firm but gentle, thumb smoothing back and forth over her pulse point like he’s steadying himself with her presence, alive and breathing next to him. 

She knew he had nightmares, the ever-present, haunting kind that refuse to leave you at peace even in sleep. On the endless trip home from Fjerda on the ship, Nina had been so out of it most of the time that she remembered little beyond Matthias always being there by her side through the pain.

But one night when she was somewhat lucid, he’d fallen asleep next to her in a rickety chair with his upper half leaning on the cot she lay on, his elbows folded and head resting on them. He could sleep anywhere, and if she weren’t so exhausted, she’d have smiled at the endearing quality.

The familiar sounds of a boat at sea were her usual companions, but that night the thick air in the belly of the ship was filled with more than just the rushing waves and heavy thuds from above deck.  

A low, wounded sound had caught her ears, and she turned onto her side with great effort, blinking and willing her eyes to focus on the source of the commotion.

Matthias was still slumped beside her, but he was agitated, his head rocking back and forth, shoulders wound up so tight he looked like a coiled spring about to snap.

Mustering the strength, she reached for him with one hand, only managing to rest her fingers on his forearm, startled when he said her name with anguish wrapping around the syllables. He was trapped in a nightmare, and she felt helpless beside him, trying to shake his arm enough to make him wake up.

He’d sprung immediately into wakefulness, bracing himself in front of where she lay as if he could keep whatever perceived danger was haunting him at bay with sheer will alone.

When he’d caught his breath, she’d asked, “Nightmare?” His single nod had been enough, and they’d settled back into the calm silence of two people at ease with each other, his fingers finding hers and folding over them; a single point of connection.

They hadn’t talked about it since then, and this reminder now of the hell he’d been through—the hell she played a part in putting him through—leaves her shaken.

She’s still murmuring nonsense into the night, smoothing her palms over Matthias’s chest as he comes down from the dream. The touch of his thumb to her face startles her; she doesn’t realize she’s been crying. He softly swipes the tears away, sitting up.

“Nina?” he murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep.

All that comes out of her throat is a choked sob. She should comfort him, not the other way around. Spots dance in her vision, and the only thing she can hear is roaring in her ears.

Calm down. Stop it.

It’s wrong, all wrong, and shame hits her so swiftly in the gut that she can’t breathe and the tears won’t stop and she can’t think.

But then he is pulling her close, laying back down and tucking her against him, one broad palm stroking her hair. In a moment of clarity, she realizes she can feel the strong beat of his heart where her head rests on his chest, a different way of connecting with it. The rhythm is steady and reassuring, and she softens just a little, curling deeper into him with her nose brushing his neck, attempting to slow her pulse and calm her panic the old fashioned way: breathe in through the nose, hold three beats, breathe out through the mouth. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers against her hair, and the affection she can’t help but feel around him floods in, mixing with her anger and embarrassment. 

There are many things to worry about—not the least of which being the terrible truth that she might never regain her heartrending skill—but here in the dark with the proof of Matthias’s safety thrumming beneath her ear, his arms around her, maybe she can pretend for just a little while longer, and put the worry off another day.

As she finally calms down, she realizes she’s been humming fragments of some old Ravkan lullaby, and his fingers card through her hair in time with the rhythm.

There is something so heart-achingly domestic about it all, and soon she hears his breathing slow and knows he is asleep. Whether or not sleep continues to evade her, she’d give anything to stay curled up here with him.

Forever, please, she whispers to whatever saint might be listening.

They are up bright and early the next morning, several cogs of Kaz’s grand plan being put into motion. Matthias is out with Kaz, Wylan, and Jesper most of the day, and while they are gone, Nina slips off to the House of the White Rose to visit a friend and secure an invitation to a party happening that night in The Lid.

They need information on debts—who owes them, who is owed—to use as leverage in their bid to reach Alyce Van Eck and hold her hostage for just long enough to get Inej back in a trade.

Conveniently, an event is being held at a newly christened gambling house near the bank of Fifth Harbor, a veritable conference of the city’s powerful underworld. With a bit of Nina’s considerable charm and the right questions, she’ll be able to obtain the information they need.

Returning to the tomb, she sets up in a corner going over a slim stack of papers, so focused on the task at hand that she doesn’t notice a figure approaching until they are right in front of her, a chipped cup of tea in their hand.

“Kuwei?”

“Drink,” he mutters, shoving the cup between her waiting palms. The young man didn’t particularly enjoy the company of others, and he seemed to prefer using the least amount of words possible in any situation.

“I—”

“Drink.”

With that, he wanders off to read a book Jesper pilfered from the University Library.

Nina has a sneaking suspicion that he’s gotten orders from a certain hulking Fjerdan to make sure she drinks from the almost too hot teacup she was holding in both hands.

It was irritating, but it was also sweet. And what could it hurt to indulge him this one time? There were plenty of other moments where they could—and would—butt heads. With a tiny smile curving up one side of her mouth, she cradles the cup more evenly and takes a sip.

The silence—quiet as a tomb—breaks in one glorious cacophony of sound as Jesper bursts through the door, Wylan right on his heels and smiling brightly, and Matthias and Kaz not far behind but looking far less chipper.

“Everything go okay?” Nina asks.

“We got what we needed,” Kaz says before coming to a stop. Jerking his chin in Nina’s direction, he asks, “Did you get it?”

Pinching two fingers around the little slip of paper she’d procured, she fans herself. She wasn’t expecting a pat on the back from Kaz, but even more surprising were his next uttered words.

“You’re not going alone.”

Jesper raises a finger in the air like he’s waiting for his turn to speak in class. “Are we sure she should be going at all, boss?”

There is matching concern on Matthias and Wylan’s faces, though they must sense that she’s a woman on edge, and trying to stop her from doing this—for Inej—would not end well. With the rational part of her mind, she knows Jesper means well, that he’s worried about her, not that he thinks she’s not capable in any normal circumstance, but she bristles just the same, about to speak before Kaz rasps out, “Can you do it?”

“Of course,” she replies with a sharp nod.

His slim shoulders shrug. “I’m not here to play nursemaid. If Nina says she can do it, she can do it. She’s a big girl.”

She glances at Jesper with an eyebrow raised as if to say, “See?” but before she can fully revel in her victory, Kaz repeats, “But you can’t go alone. Matthias will go with you.”

Nina furrows her brows. “I’m perfectly capable—” 

“Normally, I’d agree. But in…” he pauses, his eyes bouncing to the left and back again as he looks uncharacteristically unsure of his words, “this state, you need muscle. Do what you need to do, and Matthias will watch your back so you can focus.” 

Frustration burns hot in her chest—I can do this, I’m fine, everything is fine—and she’s ready to flay Kaz with her tongue when he raises a hand to stop her.

 “I won’t argue with you about this.”

And with that, she is dismissed, and Kaz turns and disappears into the shadows, cane thudding against the stone floor.

For a moment, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and she spins to face Matthias, her expression dangerous.

“That’s our cue,” says Jesper, tipping the brim of his hat in Nina’s direction and throwing an arm around Wylan’s shoulders, guiding him outside.

She wants to be angry, thinks she is, but when she looks at Matthias, his expression is soft, something tender and indefinable in his eyes, and her anger wilts away, leaving her just as weak as she’d been before.

Her eyes fall closed as she tries to fortify herself; she’s tired already and they still have a job to do.

A gentle touch on her chin makes her eyes blink open to see Matthias standing close. 

“I won’t interfere. I promise.”

“Not even when I’m cozying up to handsy slimeballs? Because you can’t go around punching everyone who so much as looks sideways at me.”

“I know. I’ve been practicing my glare instead.” He demonstrates for her.

“It’s more of a glower.”

His adorable glower is ruined by the soft quirk of his lips. She likes it. 

“Still. Scary?”

The corners of her mouth turn up, and she reaches out to cup his cheek in her palm. “Terrifying.” 

Letting her hand slide down his arm, she twines her fingers around his and pulls him into one of the tiny rooms off the main mausoleum to change and get him disguised as much as she can.

There is barely enough room for both of them in this little room, and when Nina grasps the hem of her skirt and starts pulling it up, Matthias’s cheeks flame and he spins to face the wall.

“You don’t have to turn around, you know,” she says with an amused lilt to her voice. Matthias can hear fabric rustling as she mumbles, “Damn it,” and then she is standing before him in a fancy dress that is nearly the same shade as her eyes, clasping the fabric to her chest with one hand and pulling her hair aside with the other, spinning around to present him her back.

“Can you get the buttons?” 

The sheer amount of smooth, bare skin revealed by the open back of the dress is far more than he is prepared for, and for a moment all he can do is try not to choke on his tongue.

His fingers are big and clumsy, and the line of tiny buttons marching down before him is suddenly more intimidating than an entire battalion of armed men. Trying to keep his touch solely to the buttons works well until his knuckles accidentally graze her skin, and she visibly shivers.

Distracted from the buttons for a moment, he does it again, deliberate this time, carefully running the back of his hand up and down her impossibly soft skin.

When she leans into his touch, his blood rushes in his ears in a way that he knows has absolutely nothing to do with Nina’s Grisha power.

“Matthias.” Her voice breaks through his daze. Though he can’t see her, the grin on her face is clear in her tone. “As much as I’d rather you be doing the exact opposite of fastening this dress, we need to leave soon.”

“Right.” His voice is embarrassingly hoarse, and he has to clear his throat before continuing. “Of course.”

With a slightly unsteady breath, he refocuses on the mission at hand and puts all thoughts of further exploring Nina’s skin out of his mind for another time. 

It’s a trying task, but finally, he gets the dress fastened and she twists to face him, eyes bright.

Wrapped in silk or covered in reindeer skin, she steals the breath from his chest without lifting a finger, but before he can even attempt to tell her as much, the dress is sorted and she’s on to the next step. She stuffs him into a button-down shirt and a vest that’s fraying a bit at the edges, the gold embroidery faded.

There is a moment of hesitation, barely there at all, as Nina lifts her hands to tailor his hair. It’s a change from the confident assuredness with which she normally wields her power.

Their time at the ice court had taken a toll, in more ways than one, and the back of his neck heats when he thinks about what Nina had been through to save them.

She’s trying now, giving it her all, but she isn’t quite the force of nature she’d been before. Her cheeks have lost some of their plumpness, and dark purple smudges are a constant beneath her eyes. Her appetite is gone; he can barely get her to drink tea and broth.

The girl left in the wake of the ravages of parem is a pale, exhausted imitation of who she’d been, and thinking about it makes something twist painfully in his chest.

It hurt to see her like this. It hurt to know that this problem was not something he could fix, a dragon he could slay to make it all better, but an intangible thing with no instructions.

All he can do is stay beside her as she heals, no matter how long it takes. The relief he felt at being the one to accompany her tonight was unmatched, but he’d kept his expression carefully neutral when Kaz had announced it.

She is strong, dangerous even on a bad day and excellent at her work, but there is a knot in his chest every moment he is away from her. Being near her felt as necessary as breathing. 

And maybe it was.

The determination in her eyes is encouraging, but her fingers shake imperceptibly, and nothing happens.

“Nina—” 

She shakes her head firmly to the left and right, cutting him off, so he stays silent as she tries again, a bead of sweat trailing down her pale forehead. Clenching her fists, she pinches her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, opening them again as she exhales. 

“We’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way,” she says with what he’s sure is meant to be a wry smile, but is instead more of a grimace.

She disappears again and emerges a moment later carrying a curly wig and a felted hat. 

Coming to a stop before him, she crooks her finger, and he bends a bit as she lifts up on her toes to plop the hat on his head. “Is this necessary?” he grumbles.

“Can’t be toting around a giant blond beacon, now can I?”

Quickly pinning her hair up, Nina pulls the wig on and faces him. 

“Is it straight?”

Seeing that it’s a little lopsided, he adjusts it, carefully avoiding tugging on her real hair. They’re close again, just a breath and a half between their parted lips, but they need to go. He steps back and bends at the waist, offering her his arm. Something shifts in his chest when she grins and takes it, that little spark of joy on her face a welcome guest after so many days of red-rimmed eyes and flat expressions.

Walls Closing In 

The journey through the side canals up to The Lid was blissfully uneventful, and when they’d hidden the tiny rowboat out of sight, it was easy to slip into the crowd of people pouring into various buildings up and down the narrow street. At the very end, a massive structure gilded in silver towered before them: The Tempest, Ketterdam’s newest gambling house. 

Night had fallen, golden light from inside shining through the frosted windows. Matthias was sure it was meant to be grand, but instead, it looked gaudy and out of place, like a child playing dress-up in their parent’s fanciest clothes.

It was clear from the hubbub inside that things were already in full swing, and Nina leaned her head towards him, saying, “We’re fashionably late.”

They entered together because Nina had the invitation to get them in, but when they made it past the bouncers, they split off, although he’d much rather stay by her side. She could handle herself, he knew that, but it did nothing to soothe his worry or his ever-present need to make sure she was safe, healthy, and happy—all things he had no right to want, not until they got the Wraith back.

Making his way to the bar, Matthias stood with his back against the wall so he could keep an eye on Nina as she wove her way through the party guests. It was difficult to tear his gaze away from the hypnotic sashay of her hips, the glossy black curls from the dark wig she wore bouncing merrily with each step.

For a moment, the crowd disappeared, the only sound the quiet hum of the music and the clicking of Nina’s heeled shoes as he imagined striding over to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her the way he had wanted to for days now: beginning on his feet and ending on his knees. He’d press his mouth to every inch of her skin in worship and devotion, until there was no doubt in her mind that she was needed, wanted, craved by him.

The things he wanted to do to and with her used to make him ill, ashamed for thinking about them at all. But she had taught him that passion was not dirty, affection did not need to be hidden away, and it had opened his eyes to a whole new world he’d never allowed himself to even acknowledge before.

Now, he took an unamused glance across the room, getting the lay of the land.

The parlor itself was huge, multi-storied with several grand rooms connected by thin hallways and archways. Jesper, though nowhere near as light-footed as Inej, had scoped out the place earlier in the day, giving Nina and Matthias a general idea of the layout.

On the other side, the room opened up a bit, filled with people mingling, and some doing an activity he assumed was meant to be dancing but looked like something they should be doing in the privacy of a closed room and not out in front of Djel and everyone.

In the corner of his eye, he caught Nina knocking back a generous shot of amber liquid, and worry immediately stirred in his belly.

It might feel good now, but it would make things worse for her in the long run, only exacerbating her issues, and he made a note to stay extra alert later tonight when she might not be able to keep from begging him to help her get parem. Those moments were the toughest; denying her anything was the last thing he wanted to do, and something inside him cracked when she pleaded with him, and then when the tears came, and the cajoling, and the threatening, anything she thought might convince him.

He was out of his element; addiction had never been something that affected his life, and sometimes trying to help Nina through it felt like he was stumbling around blind in the dark.

And thinking that only made him feel worse because this wasn’t about him; it was she who was suffering, she who had compromised her health and safety to save the rest of them.

He watched as she set the empty glass down, her whole demeanor changing as she moved into one of the rooms filled with poker tables, the picture of sensuality.

All he could do now was watch and wait.

The Kerch whiskey Nina had tossed down the hatch just a bit ago started to kick in, making her feel a little warm and tingly, temporarily but blissfully quieting the gnawing need that clawed at the cavern of her soul.

She still had no appetite or thirst, really, but she was not a woman who underestimated the power of a strong shot of liquid courage, and right now, she needed every last drop.

Sure, it probably wasn’t her greatest idea. Feeding addiction with addiction wasn’t the most direct path to making it out in one piece, and she will probably be regretting it later when the pain starts again, the wanting, but for now, she needed it.

She needed it.

Who are you trying to convince? said a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Inej, an angel on her shoulder to keep her on the straight and narrow.

Except she’d wandered far from that road ages ago and she reckoned she was probably fated to walk the path of most resistance for the rest of her life.

It’s what she chose, after all.

Weaving through the crowd, she kept her gaze light, not staying on any one thing or person too long so as not to arouse any suspicion.

It was a sea of silk and well-tailored suits, a swirling rainbow of deep green, scarlet, rich purple. Flashes of bare skin and sparkling gems caught the light, glinting brilliantly. Intermixed in the finery were shady businessmen with neatly trimmed moustaches, and muscle-bound thugs with shiny bald heads, looming off to the side with blank expressions on their faces.

Her mission was far from cut and dry; she had no real idea of who, exactly, could give her the information she needed, so she moved around the rooms for a while, staying as inconspicuous as possible, merely watching and listening.

As she walked down the hallway leading to the room with the bar, she saw Matthias standing by the wall, gaze lighting on her only briefly, long enough for her to know he had seen her but not so long that anyone would notice.

The bar took up one entire wall of the room, polished wood stretching from side to side. Behind it, sturdy shelves were stacked with all sorts of liquor, labeled with letters from every language one could think of—Kaelish, Shu, there was even a small crate with Old Ravkan printed across it. 

People filled the stools in front of the counter, while others clustered in groups and engaged in lively chatter, and some had even started swaying back and forth in the small open space on the opposite side of the room in an unhurried imitation of dancing, with women draped sensuously on the arms of men with leering gazes and greedy hands. Occasionally, their silks slipped and floated, and the dark stain of tattoos on their forearms peeked through.

Her own forearm tingled, reminding her of the rose stamped on her skin, hidden beneath the long sleeves of the dress she’d put on. In normal circumstances, she might choose to use her affiliation with The House of the White Rose to her advantage, but without access to her heartrending, getting someone alone would be the easiest part. With no simple way to calm them down and put them to sleep long enough for her to disappear, it was pointless. 

Instead, she took on the identity of someone who might have been invited, someone with connections or who was powerful enough to be a guest, but ditzy and unassuming in a way that made her be greatly underestimated by the rich and powerful men who thought they were somehow smarter and superior by virtue of what they were packing in their pants. 

Making her way to a table occupied by a few men that fit the demographic she was searching for information from, she twirled one long curl around her finger, pitching her voice just a shade higher and saying, “Hello, gentlemen.”

Two barely gave her a glance, but the third—the youngest looking—trailed his eyes unashamedly down and back up her body before turning a smile as sharp as a shark’s on her as he beckoned her closer with a crooked finger.

“I’m terribly curious about poker. It seems so complicated!” Cozying up to the younger one, she let the volume of her skirts brush against his pant leg, close enough to tantalize as she curled one hand around his forearm. “How do you play?”

After fifteen minutes at the table, Nina had enough knowledge to realize her current mark was not turning out to be very useful. Simpering prettily and claiming light-headedness from the champagne she’d been given, she moved on, circling back to the bar. 

Just as she’d cleared the entryway, a man in a suit jacket of the ugliest shade of green Nina had ever seen caught her elbow, using her surprise to push her against the wall in the shadows, just softly enough to not catch unwanted attention. 

His breath was sticky and sour on her neck as he closed the distance between them, sliding his hand from her elbow to her waist.

Pushing him away did nothing besides jostle him a bit, and he leaned one forearm on the wall above her head.

“You’ll get cozy with him,” he said, chin jerking in the direction of the man she’d left at the poker table, “but not me? Now, that’s not fair, is it, darling?” His hand slid higher, just barely brushing the underside of her breast.

Rage, fierce and white-hot, burned through her veins, and before the man could so much as blink, she’d grabbed his hand, pulling it off her body and tugging him closer, using the momentum to twist his arm at an unnatural angle. To any nosy bystanders, it would look like they were engaged in an amorous embrace, foreheads nearly pressed together.

Bringing her lips to his ear, she hissed, “Touch me again and I’ll snap your arm in two.”

Unexpected fear bloomed on his face for just a second before he schooled his features and released her, straightening his shoulders and turning to walk away as if he were the one slighting her, tossing a slur in her direction as he left.

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the feeling of his grubby hands on her body. When she opened them again, she saw that Matthias had moved slightly from his stance against the wall, arms now uncrossed, and hands balled into loose fists at his side as he stared at the retreating back of the disgusting man, looking like at any moment he might grab him by the collar and give him a sound beating.

Nina didn’t feel guilty at all for the rush of titillating pleasure she felt at the thought of him doing so.

Glancing around, Nina took a moment to assess the room, finding nothing out of the ordinary, so she slowly, casually made her way to Matthias. Catching his attention and bringing his gaze to her, she peered around as if searching for a suitable dance partner, finally stopping in front of him, introducing herself as if they’d just met.

“Hey, handsome.”

He was doing a very good impression of tall, dark, and scary, standing firm and making her press closer to him. He even scanned his eyes over her in a way she guessed he probably thought was lascivious, but was somehow adorably polite. Still, he was trying his best to assume the role of a man who came to this party to leave with a woman, and she had to give him credit for instinctively knowing to pretend they were strangers.

It was risky, and she probably should have moved on to the next mark, but he’d looked so beautiful standing there trying to repress his urge to defend her honor, and she had no idea if an opportunity like this would ever present itself again.

So she asks him to dance.

Twining her arms behind his neck and leaning into him, Nina feels a pang of longing in her chest, a wish that this new first they were sharing was real, the two of them as their authentic selves, not pretending to be other people in a room full of debauchery and criminals smelling like too strong cologne and dirty barroom floors.

The dancing isn’t even dancing, not really, just an excuse for their bodies to be close, which is in direct opposition to Matthias’s Fjerdan sensibilities, and the mix of panic and pure want in his eyes has her hiding a smile as she presses even closer, her curves fitting perfectly against his body. 

This moment is stolen, but it doesn’t make it any less sweet.

They sway together for a bit, letting the shadowed corner they are in conceal them, his large hand comforting and secure on her hip. For a brief moment, she lets her nose brush against his neck, just below his ear, the skin there warm and smelling of rushing rivers and pine beneath the slightly stale scent of the tombs that they’d all been carrying around since camping out on the island.

I love it.

I love you.

But this is the reality of their lives: they are soldiers. This is one small part of a much bigger battle, and they don’t have time for dreaming.

If Kaz were here, he’d be royally pissed that she was wasting time stealing a moment of intimacy with her man and not doing the very important job she needed to do so they could save Inej, and he would be right.

With great reluctance, she pulls away from him. Still standing in the shadowed corner, no one sees his fingers linger as she does, trailing down her arm and brushing against her fingertips, trying to keep contact for as long as possible. 

One final, indulgent glance at the fire in his blue eyes, and then she moves back to the nearest room, sidling up to another table with resolve straightening her spine.

His heart thumped, pulse racing, his entire body overwhelmed by the hurricane of feeling and sensation Nina just left him with. Focus was hard won, but soon Matthias felt calmer, and he found an empty stool at the bar with a clean line of sight of Nina in the other room.

As difficult as it was to watch her work her magic on other men, he was confident in their connection. Though they hadn’t exactly discussed what this strange, fragile thing was between them, he knew that it was him who she chose to sleep next to at night, him she told her secrets to, him she let hold her in the dark when she was trembling so badly she could barely speak.

There was little more he wanted in life than to be that person for her, forever, but the thick, cloying fog of uncertainty and danger loomed near them wherever they went, and he wasn’t even sure if they’d make it to next week alive and with all limbs intact.

For now, he was content to watch, glad to be the one here to keep her safe, and it would have to be enough. 

Ordering a beer mostly just to give him something to do with his hands, he’d barely sat down on one of the stools when a rotund man in a hideous bowler hat plopped down beside him. Matthias acknowledged him with a dip of his chin, but kept his gaze on the other room, hoping the man would get the hint and not try to strike up a conversation.

His hopes were dashed when he sensed the stranger looking him up and down, and Matthias bristled under his appraisal, getting the distinct feeling that he was not going to be able to avoid an encounter with the slimy looking man.

“Hello there.” 

Refraining from rolling his eyes, Matthias nodded again.

“You look to be a very sturdy young man.”

Is this man… coming on to me?  

Once inept and entirely unaware if any sort of romantic action was happening around him, Matthias was well versed in the art of flirting now, having spent so much time around Nina and Jesper, and he was completely flummoxed as to how to respond to such a thing from a random man that pressed closer to him, looking around before leaning in to speak like he didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Thank you?”

“Have you been in Kerch long?”

Nina and Matthias had managed to sneak into this place and mingle about without issue, and now this bizarre man in a too-small hat was going to break his cover.

“No.” Perhaps if he kept his responses curt, the stranger would pick up the hint and leave him alone.

No such luck.

“You know how to shoot a gun, don’t you?”

Djel above, when will it end?

He said nothing this time, taking a sip from his beer.

“Listen, I need muscle for a job. Don’t care about your affiliation, just as long as you’re willing to put in honest work for pay.” His tone changed when he said honest, a sly smile on his mouth as if they were sharing some sort of inside joke.

Though he was at risk of being recognized the longer he sat there, Matthias was immensely relieved to discover that he was not, in fact, being romantically pursued by a middle-aged man wearing a mustard yellow bow tie.

“Starts next week…”

Matthias imagined the floor opening up and swallowing the strange man whole to put an end to this painfully awkward conversation. 

“Good money…” The chattering continued on, but Matthias tuned it out. It was laughable that this man was some sort of gang boss; clearly, he was lauded for the money in his pocket and not his power or cunning because discussing illegal activities out in the open—even in a veritable den of sin like this—was not the smartest move. What if Matthias did have allegiance to other criminals in the city? Who’s to say he wouldn’t just run off and tell them, steal the job right out from under the nose of this man?

As the man droned on, Matthias’s eyes searched the surrounding rooms, landing on the place where Nina had been standing just a moment ago.

She was no longer there.

His heart stuttered, but he reminded himself that she had probably simply moved tables, and it would be fine.

Extricating himself as gracefully as possible from the grasping paws of the strange man, beer bottle still in his hand, he stepped away from the bar and headed for the room Nina was last in, doing his very best to stay casual as he scanned the sea of faces in the first room, then looped around and did the same in the second. When he came to the third room and she was still nowhere to be found, worry grew within him, the first hints of panic tightening in his chest.

All the rooms on this floor were accounted for, so he took one of the narrow hallways down to the nearest stairwell to check the next floor, his movements a little more frantic now that no one was watching him. 

Slipping out of the stairwell door, he exited into a hallway that looked abandoned in one direction, but as he came around the corner, rage made red dance at the corners of his vision at the scene before him: Nina battling a tall man, harsh bruises already blooming on her skin.

The glint of metal caught his eye; the knife he’d seen her strap to her thigh before they’d left was now in the possession of the man struggling to keep hold of her, and he managed to twist them around when he saw Matthias, holding Nina in front of him, using one arm to keep her hands restrained behind her and with the other putting the blade to Nina’s neck so tightly, a single bead of blood rolled down.

Without thought, he stepped towards her, stupidly giving this man leverage by revealing that Nina meant anything to him.

“One move and I’ll slit her throat.” His voice was hoarse. 

Who is this man, and how did this escalate so quickly? 

Matthias was trying not to panic, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the indescribable need to get to Nina.  

Unfortunately, there was no time for his questions to be answered. The much more pressing issue was the seemingly unhinged man with a knife to Nina’s pale, graceful throat, and the cut above her brow bleeding down into her eye, among other injuries he noted as he took stock of the situation.

Her opponent was not unscathed, though, sporting two rapidly blackening eyes and angry splotches around his nose where Nina must have rammed his face with her skull.

Good girl.

Matthias holds his hands up casually, saying, “No trouble,” while his mind races for a way to communicate to Nina when he is going to overcome the man. 

She makes the choice for him. Brave, beautiful Nina deliberately meets his eyes, holding his stare for a moment before mouthing, “ Now,” just as she brings the sharp point of her heeled shoe down on her attacker’s instep, making his grip falter enough for her to slide to the side, breaking his hold on her and giving Matthias the opportunity to strike.

When she’s cleared, Matthias takes two steps forward, planting his hand in the middle of the man’s chest to pin him to the wall as he swings his fist—bottle still clutched in his fingers—as hard as he can at the man’s temple.

He topples like a felled tree, landing face down on the ground with a thud as shattered glass litters the carpet around him.

It all happens in a breath of a moment, and only when it is over is Matthias able to turn and take in the scene. Though Nina got free, the knife had still caught her neck as she moved, leaving a slash that is quickly leaking blood, and his stomach churns at the sight.

The handkerchief in his chest pocket slides easily out and he presses it into Nina’s hands, making sure she brings it to her wound before grabbing the knife she’d been carrying off the floor. The blood on the blade makes him a little ill knowing who it belongs to, but he wipes it clean on his pants, and hands it back to her, asking, “Who and why?”

“Pekka’s crew.” She is out of breath, complexion even more sickly than before. “Must have recognized me from the White Rose and thought my presence meant Kaz was meddling in something that could cost Pekka money.”

“And he just immediately attacked you?”

“Well, no.” Her gaze darts away, looking at some very interesting spot on the wall behind him. “Originally he just warned me off, but then I refused and may have started fighting. He got particularly pissed off when I head-butted him,” she says with a ragged grin.

“I want to tell you that you shouldn’t have antagonized him, but you got him good and I’m thoroughly impressed.”

“I’ve been around the block, you know.” Her smile is ruinous.

Yes, he knows. It doesn’t change the fact that a small part of him wishes he could wrap her up in a blanket and hide her away from the world so she’s never in danger again, but that’s foolish thinking. Instead, he is just glad she knew what to do.

As he opens his mouth to respond, her expression quickly morphs into anger, and before he can so much as blink, she’s bending to the floor, scooping up a hearty handful of broken glass as she shouts at him to move left and lunges forward, throwing the glass directly at the face of their assailant who had apparently mustered his strength and was coming at Matthias with a different knife clutched in his hands and revenge written on his face. With her own knife in her palm, Nina brings the handle down on the top of his head as he is distracted by the glass shards slicing his skin. Once more, the man tumbles to the ground, blood now decorating the spray of glass on the floor around him.

The two of them stand there, breathing heavily with Nina still holding the handkerchief to her neck, neither one speaking until he wheezes out, “Thank you.”

Her brow furrows. “For what?”

“Saving me.”

A soft smile graces her lips. “You saved me first. And besides, that’s just what we do, isn’t it?” She cupped his cheek with her free hand, and for a moment he lets himself revel in it, closing his eyes briefly and leaning into her touch.

“We have to go,” she says, reluctantly pulling away. “I don’t think this is life-threatening but I can’t heal it, and a bleeding neck doesn’t exactly scream inconspicuous.”

He scans the hallway, propping the unconscious man against the wall and shouldering open the nearest door. If memory serves him correctly, it will lead down to the basement and they can sneak out the back entrance.

“Did you get what we need?” 

“Not as much as I’d like but it’ll have to do,” she responds, pain tightening the skin around her eyes and making him want to rouse the idiot that hurt her and smash his head for a third time.

Just We Two

Nina is disoriented, but Matthias has the layout printed in his mind.

“This way.” He gets them downstairs and out of a side door to the back alley, neatly avoiding running into any staff members.

Rushing out through the back entrance, they pass a couple locked in an amorous embrace against the brick siding, and she notes that the woman’s skirt is hiked up, the man’s hand disappearing beneath the ruffles. A strangled sort of gasp comes from behind her and she glances back to see her pious Fjerdan blushing as pink as a tulip and averting his eyes, looking anywhere but the saucy strangers before him, and it takes considerable strength to keep from laughing out loud as she tugs him away, briefly into the street and then darting into the maze of narrow, crisscrossing paths back to where they stashed the little rowboat.

Matthias holds the craft steady as she gets in and quickly checks the amount of blood on the handkerchief she still clutches to see if the bleeding has slowed, and then he takes up the oars, cutting smoothly through the water and carrying them back to Black Veil island in a different path from where they’d initially come in, taking care to make sure they aren’t being followed.

“Why do you never push me against walls and kiss me silly?” 

He glances at her sharply, a mix of intrigue and exasperation on his handsome face, illuminated by the dim lantern they pass. 

“Is that something you want?” he asks, clearing his throat. “All of that?”

“It’s up to you what you do with your hands, but I would definitely not be opposed to them venturing places they haven’t been yet.”

“Nina.” If she could see more than the reflection of the moon in his eyes, she’s sure he’d look properly scandalized, but she doesn’t miss the way his voice deepens, just raspy enough to send a tingle dancing up her spine.

She laughs. “You asked! It would be rude to lie.”

He shakes his head, a reluctant grin in his tone as he says, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Well, I have a few ideas—”

“Stop it.” He’s chastising her, but now he’s laughing too, though quietly so as not to draw attention, and if she could catch the sound between her palms and listen to it on the hard days, she’d never be sad again.

There is silence for a while, comfortable yet not as Nina screws up the courage to set down her fears in front of Matthias, here in this tiny boat.

“I can’t feel it anymore.”

His shoulders tense for just a moment, and then he continues rowing at the same pace as before, giving her time and space to continue. She’s not even sure she wants to, but at this point, she’s already opened her mouth; might as well lay out her soul, too.

“Your heartbeat, your lungs. I can’t sense them. I can’t even sense my own. It’s all just cold, dark water and blackness. No life anymore.”

Her voice almost cracks with emotion but she tries to rein it in. Now is not the time to break down, just be honest and vulnerable. She can do that for him. 

For them.

“And the craving… It makes me into someone I don’t want to be. It makes trying to embrace my power into something shameful and I… I hate it, Matthias. I hate myself.”

He turns his head for a moment to meet her eyes as he rows, and the earnest warmth in his gaze gives her the strength to keep going. She sucks in a quivering breath and continues.

“What if it’s… What if I’m broken?” It is barely a whisper, hardly heard over the ambient noise of the canal. Her timing isn’t great; she says it as they reach the island, and there isn’t room for conversation out here in the open as they get out and Matthias pulls the boat into the underbrush. 

But when they get partway up the hill, hidden by thick foliage, he brings them to a stop, large hands cupping her elbows as he stares into her eyes, determination lining his face. 

“Listen to me, all right?” 

His voice is soft but firm, and she nods, a little nervous.

“I’ve said it before and I will say it again as many times as you need to finally believe it. You are enough. You are more than your abilities. You are an avalanche, a devastating, overwhelming force all on your own. With or without your powers, you are still Nina, and you are all I need.”

He looks like an avenging angel there in the moonlight, a silver glow illuminating him like a hastily tacked on halo, hair mussed from the fight and a smear of her blood on his jaw. Tears prickle in her eyes at the fervor in his voice.

“No matter what you need to do—scream, cry, shut down, lash out—I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Zenik. I don’t know how yet, but I know you will conquer this . You will not be defined by this forever.” The silly man tucks her fake hair behind her ear. “I won’t let you.”

She has never heard a more fierce promise. A tear finally escapes her eyes and drips down her face, and she can’t speak around the bittersweet ache in her chest. If just one second more passes without his lips on hers, she thinks she might perish. Bloody handkerchief and bruises be damned, she wants to kiss him so she does, one hand half-heartedly holding the cloth to her throat where the bleeding has already mostly ceased, and the other carefully winding behind his neck to slide through the curling pieces of hair at the base of his head.

His response isn’t exactly what she thought it would be. He doesn’t freeze in surprise, or pull back until there’s enough room for the holy spirit between them. Instead, there is one split second as his mouth sends signals to his brain, and then he is cinching an arm around her waist, pressing every soft bit of her to the hard planes of him. 

He’s an active participant, unskilled but eager, and it’s better than anything she could have imagined, so good that any thoughts of injuries fade away and she clings to him, unable to keep from whimpering when he gently slides his free hand through her tangled hair to cup her skull and tilt her head, deepening their kiss further.

His fingers are rough and calloused against her skin, evidence of a life lived hard, but his touch is achingly tender and soft, almost like he’s afraid she’ll break if he pushes too hard.

She can’t have that.

Without moving her mouth from his, she tugs his shirt free of his trousers, slipping her hand beneath the fabric to finally feel his skin against hers. Even though she knows now isn’t the best time, they are hidden from view of the canal here, and she can’t stop herself from curling her fingers around his hip, thumb brushing back and forth, greedily lapping up every inch of connection, skin on skin.

Her boldness seems to encourage him; he pulls her impossibly closer, his arm wrapping around her pulling her up, nearly off her feet, and she is lost in him, everything around her simply forgotten other than his body against hers.

She teaches him how to kiss her, running the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip, gently asking for entrance and lightly dancing her tongue with his when he parts his lips. It encourages him to try, and his own questing tongue prods carefully, if not a bit clumsily, at her own. For those moments, she is not standing outside, vulnerable to discovery, but in her own world where just the two of them exist, where everything else melts away beyond the warmth of him pressed to her skin, burning as hot as a wildfire.

She is half a breath away from losing control of her rational mind and hiking up her skirt so she can climb him like a tree when the roll of voices coming from higher up the hill interrupts their moment of intimacy, not private any longer. 

“Is that them?” she hears Wylan ask.

A low chuckle reverberates in the air. “You’re not much for stealth, are you, merchling? Let’s hope it’s them, otherwise this is going to get very awkward.”

Nina and Matthias pull apart, though slowly and most definitely unwillingly.

“When we get Inej back,” she gasps out, hands cradling Matthias’s face as he leans down to press his forehead to hers, “there will be much more of that in your future.” 

His answering grin is nearly lost in the dark as he asks, “Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

That little crease between his brows he gets when he’s perplexed is visible. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve never heard that phrase? It just means yes, I absolutely promise. I think. I’ve never really stopped to ponder how morbid it is, actually.”

His nose wrinkles. “I don’t like it.” 

“Okay, okay. I take it back. Can we please return to that happy, post excellent kiss bliss now?”

One corner of his mouth tucks up in a smirk, and he leans in for one more perfect, fleeting press of his mouth to hers before pulling away, saying, “Better?”

“Much.” Her cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling so hard, but it is a welcome pain.

“Howdy, folks.” Jesper and Wylan appear from the brambles, materializing before them.

“Oh…” Jesper says, eyes darting back and forth between Matthias and Nina as a sly grin lights up his face, “I’m sorry, did we interrupt something?” He punctuates his words with a robust eyebrow wiggle, but is thrown off when Matthias puts his arm around her shoulders, meets Jesper’s eyes, and says, “Yes, you did.”

Nina cannot help the mirth that comes over her at his boldness, shrugging when Jesper turns his shocked gaze to hers as if to say, “You asked.”

“Well, then please accept my sincerest apologies for mucking up your alone time, young lovers.”

Before she can even laugh at Jesper’s smirk, the corners of his mouth dip, all amusement leaving him immediately.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Was bleeding,” Nina corrects. “I’ll be fine.” At least she hopes so. It is growing increasingly difficult to stand upright on her own, the events of the night finally beginning to catch up with her. “I just need my little first aid kit. It’s at the mausoleum.”

“I’ll get it,” Wylan vows solemnly, scurrying up the hill ahead of them to fetch it.

“Are you all right, mate?” Jesper asks Matthias.

“Fine. She’s hurt, not me.” As he speaks, he seems to sense that Nina has gone a bit wobbly and winds an arm around her waist to hold her up.

Offering Nina his arm, Jesper aids Matthias in helping her to step carefully up the hill. “I think it’s time for you two to tell me everything.”

She is exhausted, and immense relief floods her body when Matthias speaks up before she can say a word, sensing how little strength she has left. Grabbing his hand with her free arm, she gives it a squeeze to show him her appreciation.

The first light of dawn appears like splotches of paint on the night sky, and she barely hears Jesper and Matthias’s voices as they fade to the background. Instead, the image of Matthias before her, eyes imploring her to trust him, hands holding her tight as he pledges to never let her go comes to the forefront, and for the first time, she wonders if maybe she is strong enough to weather this storm of addiction and uncertainty.

Just as long as his hand is in hers.