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Night is peaceful here on the Geldstraat, in a way it never is in the Barrel.
Over the last two months, Inej has gotten used to it, though at first the silence seemed eerie, almost as if there was some indistinguishable hum whose source she could never identify. But as she has slowly but surely peeled herself away from the hustle and bustle of the Barrel, she’s come to enjoy nights like this, sitting on the back patio of the Van Eck mansion, listening to the sounds of the bugs in the grass and the summer wind in the trees, watching the lights on the docks glisten off the waters of the Geldcanal.
Tonight, the feeling is bittersweet. For the first time, she’s not sitting out here alone—Kaz has joined her, and the simple fact of his presence at the other end of the padded bench makes her strangely giddy. That feeling might be a bit enhanced by the champagne she’d had earlier, but it’s been hours since she touched the stuff, so she doesn’t think so. The reason for the champagne is also the reason for his being here—it’s her last night in Ketterdam before her maiden voyage on The Wraith. That’s the bitter part—that it has to come to an end so soon.
Inej gives herself a mental shake. No use ruining a wonderful night by being melancholy about leaving. She needs to make the most of this time with Kaz, because it will be all she has to survive on in the coming weeks.
She pulls her feet up underneath her and angles herself to face him. He’s slouched in his seat a bit, staring out over the dark waters of the canal, his bad leg stretched out in front of him, left hand balanced on the crow’s head of his cane. He’s shed his jacket and gloves and rolled up his sleeves, and she feels almost obscene looking at him like this in the dim light of Wylan’s back porch. His right arm is propped along the backrest of the bench, his hand resting lightly at his temple, his index finger and thumb playing absentmindedly with a loose lock of his own hair. For a moment she loses all train of thought, mesmerized by the sight of his long, pale fingers against the oil dark of his hair. She wants to do something insane, like reach over and knock his hand away so she can twist that lock of hair around for herself, run her fingers through the rest of it, see if it’s as soft as it looks.
This is the dangerous thing about the shift in her relationship with Kaz over the last several weeks. Since that day by the harbor—since she’d held his bare hand in hers, since she’d come to understand that what had once felt impossible was exhilaratingly possible after all—she’s lost all ability to shut down these wants. So far, she’s mostly been able to stop herself from acting on them, knowing Kaz isn’t ready, but they bob to the surface of her mind with an alarming frequency and refuse to be pushed under.
Kaz gives her a sidelong glance and smirks. “See anything interesting?”
Inej blushes, but refuses to back down. She shrugs and folds her arms along the back of the bench, propping her chin on top of them. “Maybe.”
He shifts a bit, angling himself toward her a little more, leaning his cheek against his fist. The stray lock of hair falls still across his brow. “Do tell.”
“Mmm, I don’t think I will,” she says, teasing. “You didn’t hire me to go telling secrets.”
“That’s exactly why I hired you.”
“Ah, but I don’t work for you anymore. I think I’ll keep this one to myself.”
There’s a miniscule pinching of his eyebrows when she says this, one she’d never have noticed if she didn’t make it a point to know him so well. The reminder that she doesn’t work for him brings the reality of tomorrow to the surface. He’s done a valiant job these last weeks of being supportive of her leaving, but she knows it’s killing him.
It’s killing her a little bit, too.
She breaks eye contact and looks back toward the house. “It was a nice party, don’t you think?”
He gives a noncommittal grunt, but capitulates when she darts her eyes back to him. “It was alright.”
“It’s a good thing my parents’ Kerch is rudimentary. I think the specifics of Jesper’s drinking song went over their heads.”
“Probably for the best. Although, there’s no hiding how off-key it was.”
Inej winces. “Poor Wylan. He could barely play the accompaniment he was cringing so hard.”
Kaz makes a sound of agreement. “At least the booze was quality.”
“And quantity.”
He laughs a little, the sound of it as rough as his voice. “You had three drinks the entire night, Inej. You’ll have to do something about that liquor tolerance of yours if you’re going to be a pirate worth respecting.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “Not all of us have been drinking since we were ten.”
He clicks his tongue. “Exaggeration. Eleven.”
“Oh? And what were you up to at ten? Ghezen's honest work?” she says, the same teasing note in her voice, but something in him closes off. He looks away from her, out toward the canal. She feels stupid; she knows his childhood was no walk in the park, knows it better than just about anyone, even if she doesn’t know the specifics. She’s about to backtrack, try to change the subject when he clears his throat.
“Getting arrested, mostly.” It comes out strained, and she hates herself a bit for putting that note in his voice on a night that was going so well. “Three times that year.”
It’s more than she would have expected from him, but she can tell by the caged look in his eyes that he desperately does not want her to probe further. As much as she wants to know him, to know the ins and outs of what has made him this way, she understands that that kind of trust takes time, and she can be patient. So for now, she files the information away like the good spider she is. It will sit alongside the things he’d said to Pekka Rollins in the chapel, alongside his admissions in the bathroom at the Geldrenner, alongside the R tattooed on his bicep and the name Johannus Rietveld. Another piece of his broken, shattered past, placed carefully in her hands with the trust that she will not break him further.
“Well, I’ll try to avoid following in your ten-year-old footsteps in my career as a pirate. Much harder to pillage and plunder from behind bars,” she says lightly. The corner of his lips twitch in what might have turned into a smile if he was more of a natural at it.
They lapse into a comfortable silence, which feels almost as natural as breathing. Once, when Nina had learned how much time Inej spent up in Kaz’s office, she’d asked what it was they talked about. When Inej had told her they didn’t do much talking, Nina had wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Inej had flushed and tried to explain that it wasn’t like that—it was just nice, simply existing in the same space as him. They didn’t need to talk. People like Nina and Jesper didn’t get that, but Inej had grown up in close quarters with all her loved ones and learned early on the value of people with whom silence was easy.
They watch the water for a while, content, but eventually Kaz turns back to her and says, “So, what’s the first stop on your journey?” His tone is deliberately even, and she appreciates the question, given that his first instinct has often been to pretend not to care about things that hurt him.
“West Ravka,” Inej says. “Or, just Ravka, I suppose. I haven’t seen it since the Fold was torn down.” It’s been a long time since Inej has seen the country she was raised in. She wonders if she will recognize it. She wonders if it will recognize her.
“Returning your parents?”
“Yes,” she says, shaking off the disquieting feeling. “I can’t put them in harm’s way. And it’s been three years since I saw my family.”
“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”
“Yes,” Inej says, but something in her tone must betray her, because Kaz looks at her quizzically. “I’m worried,” she admits. “About going home. What if…what if I don’t fit anymore?”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Kaz says. “I’ve never tried.”
“Why not?” she asks, perhaps pressing her luck, but he’s the one who brought it up.
He just shrugs, eyes far away. “Nothing to go back to.” He’s quiet a moment, then seems to bring himself back to the present. “It’s different for you. You’ve got people to go back to. People who love you.”
People like her parents, asleep in one of the second floor bedrooms. Her parents, who know everything about the Menagerie and the Dregs and still love her anyway. Who are here because the boy sitting across from her cashed in his favor with the king of Ravka to get them back for her. She wishes there was someone she could find for him, to love him as much as he deserves.
“You’ll be okay,” he says, strangely reassuring. She can’t imagine him saying it in any context other than this night, just the two of them, here alone in this bubble of calm on Wylan’s patio. “Even if you don’t fit the same way. You’re the most adaptable person I know.” His arm moves as if to place a comforting hand on her forearm, but he jerks away at the last moment. He taps his fingers on the back of the bench in an attempt to look natural, but she can see the disappointment in himself creep up behind his eyes.
It pains Inej to see him feel that way. He’s done a lot tonight—opening up, shedding the gloves, reassuring her, even just staying here with her during the hours the Crow Club is busiest—and she wants him to know that it’s okay if he can’t do this one thing right now. She doesn’t know why, hasn’t uncovered that piece of his puzzle yet, but she knows it’s bare skin that bothers him the most. So she takes a chance and scoots closer to him, watching his face for a moment before gently laying her head on his shoulder, careful not to brush any of his exposed skin.
She can hear his breath catch in his chest, can feel his muscles tense, but he doesn’t shove her away, just sits there stock still until his breathing evens back out. Inej doesn’t dare move a muscle. Eventually, the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek becomes less frantic, and his arm moves slowly to rest across her shoulders. She can feel his fingers, featherlight against her sleeve.
She can’t believe she was so close to leaving him behind and never looking back.
After a moment, she strikes up a conversation about the Crow Club, and he tells her about his influx of business in the wake of Pekka Rollins’ disappearance. She couldn’t care less about the ins and outs of running a gambling hall, but the rough burn of his voice rumbling up through his chest and into her cheek is so soothing that she thinks she would sit through a detailed breakdown of the depreciation of each and every one of his assets if only she could stay here a little longer.
She doesn’t remember drifting off, but all of a sudden he’s shaking her shoulder and saying her name. She jerks into a sitting position and rubs her eyes. Once she comes out of her fog, she can see him rolling his sleeves down and fishing his gloves out of his pocket. “What are you doing?”
“It’s clear the night needs to come to a close. You’ve got an early morning tomorrow—” he hesitates, fishing his pocket watch out, before correcting himself, “—today. And I really should check on the club.”
She wants to protest, but given that she was close to drooling on his fine waistcoat, she finds she doesn’t have much of an argument. So she just watches mournfully as his hands disappear into black leather, and he pulls his coat on, armored once more.
He hesitates for a moment, watching her face, then grips his cane and pushes himself to his feet. She follows, and doesn’t miss the way he winces as he puts weight on his bad leg.
“Does it hurt?” she asks.
He looks down at it, shaking the ankle out. “Just stiff,” he says unconvincingly. “Been sitting a long time.”
She nods, and they stand there for a moment, not talking, but neither taking the opportunity to call an end to the night. He’s never been one to hesitate, but something about this night seems to call for it.
Feeling bold and wanting to be close to him for a moment longer, she reaches out to straighten the knot of his tie, even though it doesn’t need adjusting. “You have to take better care of yourself,” she says, her fingers smoothing down the silk. “I won’t be around to tell you sleep and eat and rest your leg at at least semi-regular intervals, so you’ll have to manage that all on your own, or you’ll run yourself into the ground before I even return.”
He swallows thickly, and she can feel his Adam’s apple bob. He clears his throat and says, “No promises.”
She drops her hands and looks at him indignantly. “Seriously, Kaz?”
He gives her that mischievous grin she loves so much. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”
Cocky little bastard, using her own tricks against her. Well, two can play at that game. “Please,” she says, lacing her fingers together under her chin as if in prayer. “My darling Kaz, treasure of my heart, would you do me the favor of being gentle with yourself while I’m away?”
She’s glad for the lanterns that line the patio, because the dim light gives her a full view of Kaz’s cheeks turning a delicate pink as he looks down at his shoes. She smiles in victory and drops her hands to her sides.
After a moment, he reaches out and gently twines his gloved fingers through hers. “I’ll give it a try,” he says, meeting her eyes again. “But I’m not sure it’ll stick, so you’ll have to hurry back to check on my progress.”
She smiles softly at him, trying to memorize his features in the soft orange glow of the lanterns, to etch every line and curve of his face into her brain, not wanting this night to end, knowing it has to. “I’m sure you can do it if you set your mind to it. You’re a quick study.” Before his face can fall too much, she adds, “But how does six weeks sound?”
His eyes flit over her face, and she knows he’s committing her to his formidable memory as well. “It sounds manageable.” He looks back down at their entwined hands, then gives hers a squeeze and pulls away. “You really ought to get some sleep, Captain. Big day ahead.”
She wraps her arms around herself, nodding. “I guess so. Goodnight, Kaz.”
“Goodnight, Inej,” he says, before tipping his hat to her and walking off toward the gondel docked at the private pier at the end of the garden. She watches him disappear into the darkness, and when he turns around, she feels something like relief. She lifts a hand in a shy wave, which he returns before setting off again.
Once he’s gone, she heads back into the mansion, ready for the adventure that lies ahead.