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“Do you think they would lie to you?”
“Why would they not?”
Ketterdam was never a pretty place. But there were moments–when she and Kaz stood on the roof, sharing stories from their individual journeys, the evening sun smiling at them all the while, the nights when by the time Inej’s ship docked on the fifth harbor, Kaz’s face showing the slightest hint of anticipation glowed under the moonlight–she believed Ketterdam to be more pleasant.
Perhaps she was too caught up in her recent experiences that she had forgotten the Ketterdam before. Inej never considered it feasible to forget the past–the Menagerie, Tante Heleen, her customers some violent, some just careless–yet here she was, standing next to the man who had once been her employer and perhaps more. The afternoon breeze tugged at her long braids. Her memories of the Menagerie never faded, they just stopped replaying in her head so often. Ketterdam’s ugliness possessed a beauty. And it was home, whether she liked it or not. And here, honesty was a crime.
“Tell me the plan.”
She only realized how long it had been since she uttered those words later. Memories flooded her brain and she felt the chains of nostalgia and everything that came with it breaking free from her hold. The air shifted.
With the words, once so familiar it was etched into her lips, out in the air, she noticed–owing much to whatever attachment they shared–the widening of Kaz’s eyes which was otherwise incomprehensible. He clearly hadn’t expected her to offer her time for his benefit. Not when she had a ship and a crew waiting for their captain.
“You’re assuming I have a plan.”
“And am I wrong?” Inej faced him now, her chin in the air. A smile threatened to adorn Kaz’s lips as he replied, “no.”
–
They went over their plan many more times than they needed to. It was common knowledge that when the Wraith and Dirtyhands were set on a mission, they didn’t really need much time for preparation. They communicated through gazes that barely lasted a second and an undecipherable language no one else seemed to be aware of during the course of action. It took Jesper’s untimely interruption to finally conclude their discussion.
“I thought you were leaving tonight.” Jesper lounged on one of the new couches Kaz had bought for his office, his hands fiddling with the china of a raven.
Inej’s reply didn’t come quickly and Kaz hoped that she didn’t notice the way he took in her face through the corner of his eye, trying to memorize her features with unacknowledged avidity. Inej never sat on one of the couches or stood near his table facing him. Those gestures lacked a sort of intimacy. Perhaps that was how far it went.
But he was still keen on knowing why she had chosen to stay to help him. Committing crimes was not a new hobby he was trying to pick up and what needed to be done tonight wasn’t particularly demanding nor did it require the skills of the finest acrobat. Inej was no longer his ‘investment.’ The only conclusion he could draw was that it was her personal decision to stay But why was it so hard to believe?
Inej’s small figure leaned on the wall opposite the black leather couch, “it’s my selfishness,” she spoke finally, a soft smile formed on her lips and Kaz could no longer peer at her. His greed had taken over him and he looked at her now, the sun coloring her hair brown, this rise and fall of her chest with every breath she took. Kaz Brekker who was the last person affiliated with any feeling of repose felt as though this moment was the one that brought him closest to the state of tranquility.
“I wanted to stay more,” her eyes, saturated with vehemence met Kaz’s. Her smile was something to be fetched, and so he did; the feeling of unearthing jewels.
Her eyes couldn’t lie if one knew how to look into them. It was one among many things Kaz had taken time to learn about Inej. They spoke to him, “I wanted to stay more because,” they seemed to say, “because of you, Kaz.”
Honesty was a crime in Ketterdam but they were criminals