Chapter Text
Inej,
I write this letter without my gloves. I’ve given much thought to our last few conversations before you left, about armor, openness, honesty, and vulnerability and I realized that while I knew so much about your past – your childhood in Ravka, your family, your forced indentured servitude at The Menagerie, and how you came about your martial skills – you knew so little of mine. I didn’t realize at the time how that imbalance might wear on a person if only silently and slowly, but I see it differently now even if I don’t see it the same as you. I realize this is selfish of me but the thought of you fills me with fire and light and I think of you quite often. You were always on my mind with your night-black hair, your large dark eyes, your brown skin that softly glows in the sunlight, but nowadays it seems that I have to actively push you from my thoughts as I go about my day, to function as I so easily did with you by my side. So let me explain myself so that you may make a full decision about me, you, us, and the Crows.
I was five or so when my father died from a plowing accident and left my brother and I alone in the world for our mother died in childbirth. We had no family that we knew of beyond a distant second cousin here or there and they had little interest in taking on two young boys as times were so hard. We inherited our family’s farm which we sold for a respectable sum but had no knowledge in the matters of investments or other ways to grow an ever-shrinking pile of krugers into a larger one that replenished and grew on its own. It was Jordan’s, “Jordie” as I called him then, idea to travel to the heart of Ketterdam to make our fortune and so I could have a proper education, and I so eagerly agreed and followed in his wake. There are turning points in all of our lives and I often wonder what would have happened if we merely stayed in the countryside and started a farmer’s garden and contented ourselves with a simple life of subsistence, but I know that was never to be. My brother as he was then and I as I am now are quite alike and eventually one of us would have made the trek to Ketterdam’s glittering lights in hope of something better, like so many already do.
We met Pekka Rollins soon after arrival and my brother went to talk with him like a man while I played with Pekka’s daughter on their polished wood floor. I don’t know when she died or what she died of or even if she did though that is my strong impression, but I do know that Rollins was cruel with and without her, same as he is with his son now. You see, with people like Rollins, their own child functions primarily or secondarily as an excuse to exercise their monstrosity that has always dwelt within their hearts. How many times have we heard some jumped up slum lord or pimp who abuses those they have power over use their children as a shield when the moral bill is due and the Crows come to collect? “I’m doing this for my boy, my girl, anything for my child…”, nothing more than silk cloaking a rotting corpse.
I was so proud and happy for Jordan, the world was finally fading from coal black to warm gold and soon we wouldn’t have to worry about food or the cold or strange glances from older men, things would be as they were in their own broken way. Jordie was devastated when he realized how Rollins betrayed us and stole all our wealth through his enterprises and that all the acquaintances and contacts he’d made through him were all in on the same awful game. It broke him to realize that while he’d styled himself a young man doing shrewd business and making a future for himself and his brother, those around him saw him as a silly little boy and easy prey. But even then he always put me first, even when we were constantly hungry and hollows started to appear around our eyes and our clothes became uneasily loose, he always made sure I ate first and most. After he died from the firepox plague, I begged the gods, any god or saint really, to bring him back so many times and they never answered. If there’s someplace after this, which I do not believe even though I know that you do, I hope to see him and my parents there.
I would like to say that I knew not to trust Pekka Rollins but Jordan wouldn’t listen to my warnings, or that I had an inkling that something wasn’t quite right, that I saw something in his eyes or smile if only for a moment, but in reality all I remember thinking was how kind he was, how gently he spoke to his daughter and I, how generous his terms were to my brother, and how big and warm and nice his manor was. I remember the day after the depth of Pekka’s betrayal truly sunk into our bones, I turned to my brother and cried along with him and asked what were we going to do now that we had no money? Rollins expected us to die like so many other street urchins, but neither of us did, not really for you see I carry Jordan with me in my heart and mind, and I know you do the same with your family and the women you’ve met and freed in your own journey.
Do you ever wonder who you’d be if you never were separated from your family or even just never indentured into The Menagerie? I suppose that’s a stupid question, of course you do, how could you not? The true question is how often do you muse over the woman you’d be? I try not to dwell on such questions myself, everyone has scars and tragedies, some far greater than others, but nothing can be done about the past and even the Sun and Shadow Summoners do not have such power. It’s far more practical and hopeful to look to the future and determine what actions one must take in order to reach it.
Rollins did teach me not to trust anyone, even those with kind eyes and smiles and warm voices, and such suspicion – Jesper would call it paranoia – has served me well, but it poisoned me and it poisoned this thing between us and for that I am deeply sorry.
I apologize for my rambling, but I wanted to tell you who I am and how I got to be this way as you once did for me. I miss you Inej, I miss walking side by side with you and Jesper through Ketterdam’s streets, I miss how you arrive and leave like a shadow, I miss how your body so easily moves in combat, I miss you. I cannot promise to be a fundamentally different man if you return to the Crows, but I can promise companionship without gloves and to keep you closer than before in all ways that matter, and I dearly hope to see you again sooner rather than later.
Yours,
Kaz Brekker
P.S. Is Mal any good as an aeroship captain? I like him well enough and he’s a quick thinker, but I never took him for much of a leader if I’m being honest – more of a dutiful soldier you’d want by your side in all things. But then, Nikolai is now tsar of Ravka, so what do I know?
P.P.S. I had a dream a few nights back of the two of us standing by a fireplace and looking into each other’s eyes. It was over almost as soon as it began but it felt so familiar. Strange.
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Inej finished reading the letter and after briefly wiping her eyes, laughing off a joke from Tamar about a secret admirer, and readying herself for bed, resolved to write to Kaz the next night and send it to him once the Volkvolny arrived at the next port. She carried his words in her heart and they warmed her like the Sun.