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Nina has always known the shape of Kaz Brekker, in every form. Known the line of his broken bones, set wrong and proud of it. Known the way his breathing catches when he feels the unwelcome phantom touch of love on his body; for all his power and self-control, unable to resist it. Known the pressure that cinches his heart and beats relentlessly in his arteries at all that feeling he never lets show, except in carefully measured anger. She'd known it intimately, until she'd made that sacrifice for him, for them all.
But these days, she only feels the dead. She doesn't feel Kaz anymore, not even the ache in his bones. Despite his protests, his profession that he is cold-hearted, Kaz is far from dead. And so Kaz is far from her sight or touch. When she looks at him now, he is a foreign language to her. Too closed off to rely on what she knows of others.
This means Nina doesn't know how he feels when she delivers a carefully measured insult. She has to watch to see if any of the veins in his neck or forehead bulge. To see how he meters his breathing afterwards. She ought to calculate it, decide the odds, just like he would. But she isn't like Kaz, not when it comes to feelings. She doesn't count the cards, she shows hers and calls his bluff. Risking it all, pressing forward, eager to feel how alive he is.