Chapter Text
Kaz knew what pain was. He knew what it felt like to never truly be comfortable, to put one foot in front of another and ignore the constant reminders that he was broken.
Some days were better than others.
Days when the rain came and his leg crossed the line from dull ache to pins and needles poking from every side.
Days when the black void inside his chest screamed at everything he had lost and demanded a payment that Kaz couldn’t afford. The burdens of carrying a vengeance that was big enough for two people weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Pain, much like everything else, is an ocean you learn how to swim in. You learn how to ride with the tide, keep it restrained, and try not to drown.
Kaz Brekker knows enough about his own pain. He did not have enough of himself to deal with someone else’s.
He knows about soulmates, of course--the boys and girls of The Slat talked about it on nights when food was scarce and the storms were strong. In between hushed voices and giggles, there lay the truth that one soul was split into two. The bond between them forged and tested against a shared pain. The undeniable romance of two people who were made to watch each other’s backs.
It was bullshit.
A trick of the mind. A con. A lie you tell to children so they can believe that their life was more than just living.
But some things were greater than cheap, flashy tricks. So, when he felt the tickling of an unfamiliar pain that did not belong to him, he should have known to lend some merit to the silly stories of his youth.
Honestly if he was a smarter man, he would have kept her away. As soon as he had walked into The Menagerie and he felt an alien ache on his back and neck, he should have trusted his instincts and left. But he needed information, and he had become a master at ignoring his own body’s signs. Then she had come up and whispered to him. Her silent approach was suddenly broken by the small gasp as he turned and watched her leg twitch.
Their eyes had met, and Kaz felt something else shift. A feeling of dread and nervousness. A desperation crawling up the inside of his throat.
He felt more than heard the girl in the cheaply made Suli costume whisper, “I can help you.”
Kaz should have turned away and never gone back to The Menagerie. He should have forgotten the girl with the wide eyes and the dark hair. But the silence that cloaked around her was too important to ignore. It convinced him that she could be the key to everything he needed to quiet the voices in his head.
And so Kaz didn’t stay away. He kept her close. And while Inej Ghafa could be his greatest asset. She could also be his greatest downfall.