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In Nina’s first weeks at the White Rose, other girls had invited her out with them, but she’d been too caught up in her own worries to make any effort, and eventually the invitations stopped. So it was a surprise to be asked to the Crow Club a week after Carnival.
The girls at the White Rose belong to a mix of gangs, but the trio that come knocking on her door are also members of the Dregs. Nina waffles for a minute about going, but the Crow Club is Kaz Brekker’s territory, which means Inej is likely to be there. So she borrows a dress, and they venture out into the night.
Once inside, the others head immediately to the bar, where the tattoos on their arms get them free drinks. Nina follows, looking around at everything. A hand touches her elbow and she startles.
“Just me,” says a soft voice, and Nina already has a smile on her face when she turns towards Inej.
“Here on business?” Nina asks.
Inej frowns. “Unfortunately, yes. But afterwards… I have somewhere I want to show you.”
Nina smiles. “It’s a date.”
“I think you’ll like the Barrel Stud,” Inej says, pointing towards a corner of the hall.
Nina finds the tables and chuckles to herself. Inej was right. The card game is a variant of poker; they played a similar game in the Little Palace to hone their Corporalki skills. Nina places a chip on an open table and is dealt in.
The trick is to read the player, not the cards, which puts Nina at a distinct advantage at this table. The man across from her is dealt a card, and he smiles slightly, but his breath catches and his heartbeat stutters. He raises, and his pulse skips again. Nina’s hand is nothing special, but she raises too. His hand doesn’t get any better, but he continues to play like it is with Nina matching him bet for bet until he folds. She sweeps the table with one of the lowest possible hands.
Back at the Little Palace, where everyone could feel pulses, the tricks were masking your own responses, or triggering false responses in others without being noticed. Here among these otkazat’sya , these non-Grisha, there’s little challenge, and she soon has a nice pile of chips.
“Impressive,” says an unfortunately familiar voice.
“Kaz,” she says lightly, keeping her focus on the table.
He leans in close and whispers into her ear, “Walk away after this hand, Corporalnik.”
“Problem, Mr. Brekker?” She whispers back, taking her last card from the dealer.
“Not if you switch to a game involving a little more chance.”
Nina pouts, but places her final bets, and then gathers up her winnings. “I suppose most of this will go to you anyway,” she says, pushing past Kaz.
“I’ll take my cut,” he replies. “Have a nice night, Miss Zenik.”
She tucks her kruge into an inner pocket of her dress, and joins the other girls at the bar. She buys a round, which endears her to them, but she’s uncomfortable. Kaz rattled her; he shouldn’t have known what she was doing.
Nina is struck with a sudden wave of homesickness. She orders a glass of kvas.
“You shouldn’t drink alone,” Inej says, ordering her own glass. “Za zdorovje,” she says, and Nina smiles at the Ravkan toast.
“How’d the game go?”
Nina pouts. “Kaz kicked me out because I was winning.” She darts a sly glance at Inej. “Not my fault I have magical Grisha wiles.”
Inej’s laugh is bright in the darkened bar, and Nina’s heart pounds. She’s suddenly glad that she’s not among other Corporalniks.
“I was about to head back to the Slat,” Inej starts, and it’s dark enough that Nina can’t see it, but she senses the blood rushing to Inej’s cheeks. “Would you still like to see-”
“Yes!” Nina blurts. “I’d love to.”
Nina has learned the major thoroughfares of Ketterdam, and she has a good sense of direction, but the Barrel is a maze. Bridges criss cross alleys, canals dead end, and the leaning houses create strange pockets of city. Inej wends her way through it without hesitation.
They emerge onto a little piazza. The side wall of a church dedicated to Sankta Alina and a canal form two sides, and directly across from them is an outdoor cafe, it’s flickering gas lamps reflected in the water.
Nina sniffs the air. “Is that-? Oh saints, Inej. Are those beignets?”
Inej smiles and pulls her across the pavement to sit at one of the little round tables. They order coffees and two orders of the West Ravkan donuts.
“I found this place while on a job. I thought you might like them.”
“I haven’t had these in ages,” Nina says, lifting up the square pastry. She holds her breath so as not to disturb the mountain of powdered sugar perched on top. It’s always a hopeless battle, but she makes the effort anyway. The girl she borrowed her dress from won’t be too happy if it’s returned white instead of blue.
The beignets are barely cooled from the heat of the frying pan, and so light and airy. She and Inej tear in happily, releasing clouds of powdered sugar. It’s wonderful.
The Wraith’s dark uniform is good for the rooftops of Ketterdam, but it’s not well suited for enjoying beignets, and Nina has to laugh at the constellation of powder on Inej’s front.
“You’re no better,” Inej huffs, and Nina looks down and laughs harder at the dusting on her cleavage and bodice.
Inej smiles softly and reaches out to brush a clump of sugar from the corner of Nina’s mouth. She turns her head and kisses the tips of Inej’s fingers. A blush spreads across Inej’s cheeks, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t move any closer either, so it’s up to Nina to close the distance between them.
Inej’s lips are as soft as she remembers, and even sweeter. Underneath the sugar, her mouth tastes like bitter coffee and wood smoke. There’s no time constraint this time, and Nina lets herself forget all about the Dregs, and the White Rose, and Hellgate.
Eventually Inej pulls away, her smile small but pleased.
“I’m glad you joined me,” she says.
“Tonight going the way you planned then?” Nina jokes.
“Better,” Inej murmurs, placing another kiss to Nina’s lips.
The bell rings to mark the end of Evening Prayer, and a few faithful exit the church, turning off all the lights but one. It illuminates a stained glass window of Sankta Alina in the moment of her martyrdom.
Nina doesn’t realize she’s been staring until Inej says, “It’s always kept lit. To honor the saint.”
“I had my first beignet that day,” Nina says, suddenly remembering. “The day the Shadow Fold was destroyed and the war ended. I was there, and one of the soldiers from West Ravka brought them over. To celebrate.”
She shivers and Inej takes her hand. “I remember the war too, parts of it. I can’t imagine being in the middle of it.”
“It’s practically ancient history now,” Nina says, nodding at the church. “Already part of the myths and stories.” She smiles and steers the conversation away. “Maybe you’ll be part of the stories. The Wraith of Ketterdam. Men already tremble at your name.”
“I don’t know about that,” Inej says with a soft laugh.
“I know I do,” Nina winks.
“Shut up and eat your beignets.”
Nina can’t actually, because she’s eaten all of hers, so she reaches over to steal the last one. Then snatches her hand back quickly to avoid being hit by Inej’s spoon.
“I’m saving this one for later,” she says. “I’ll take you back by the scenic route.”
Nina heads automatically back the way they came, but Inej takes her hand and leads her over to the canal. The ledge alongside the water isn’t visible until they’re on it, and Nina almost trips into the canal. Inej strides off confidently and Nina trails behind, one hand on the wall for balance and one on Inej’s back for confidence.
“I can’t see a thing,” she hisses over the lapping of the waves.
“Just wait,” Inej whispers back.
The waves get louder and the light gets brighter, and then they emerge onto the Grand Canal.
“Oh,” Nina gasps.
All the houses along the canal are illuminated and the reflections sparkle in the wake of boats. One barge makes its slow, stately way out to the harbor, while smaller craft weave around each other in a complex dance.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
Inej takes her hand again and leads her out onto a little dock where they can sit and watch the canal. “The mercher who lives here lost all his ships and narrowly avoided bankruptcy, so the dock is never used. It’s a nice place to think.”
“Thank you for sharing it,” Nina says, resting a hand on Inej’s knee.
Nina’s not sure how long they sit there. They talk occasionally - about Ravka, and Ketterdam, and the Dregs - but mostly they sit in companionable silence. Inej unwraps her last beignet and they split it, sharing bites of pastry and sugar dusted kisses.