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Somehow, it feels as though everything had led to this. Jordie, Rollins, the Dregs; all of it was a preview, a preparation for this moment and what would come after. His confrontation with Rollins was an acceptance — a way for Kaz to see that for once, revenge would have to wait. Right now, there was more at stake. Right now, there was a way for Kaz to get that revenge at stake.
The crew, Kaz’s crew, stand up. They look at each other. Nina and Matthias see each other, love in their eyes despite the hate that used to be in their voices. Wylan and Jesper see each other, the former’s surprising quiet strength soothing the latter’s nervous energy. And Kaz sees Inej, and her resolve, her silent statement that meant no matter what, she would fight. Inej always does.
A cold breeze enters the dome, shifting the mist and prompting Jesper to speak up. “No mourners,” he says, grinning.
“No funerals,” they all reply, even Matthias joining in. The saying meant luck, and Kaz supposes they all needed it — not the luck, but the hope that came with it. The hope for surviving the night yet to come.
And what do you hope for? a soft voice in Kaz’s mind asks, a voice that sounded like Inej.
Revenge. Money. You. All the answers were true enough.
“If any of you survive, make sure I have an open casket,” Jesper intervenes in Kaz’s thoughts. He hefts coils of makeshift rope over his shoulder, Wylan trailing after him as they both made their way across the roof. “The world deserves a few more moments with this face.”
The Fjerdan clears his throat, shifting his attention to Nina with a stilted bow. “A word?” he asked nervously. Nina bowed with a considerably larger amount of grace.
Their exit left Kaz alone with Inej.
“I have something for you,” Inej breaks the silence first, moving towards Kaz with her silent feet. She pulls out something from her dirty prison tunic. A pair of leather gloves. His leather gloves.
Warmth spread through Kaz despite the chill in the air. He stares at his gloves, a piece of himself, a piece that could protect him even as he stood in the midst of the most dangerous job he’d ever taken on. “How-”
“I got them from the discarded clothes,” Inej says simply. “Before I made the climb.”
“Six stories in the dark.” Six stories Inej shouldn’t have had to climb, but did anyway.
Inej nods. She doesn’t wait for thanks, for the gloves or the climb, and Kaz is glad. What would he say? Thank you for making a climb I told you to even after you got stabbed? Thank you for bringing me a piece of armor that protects me at the cost of hiding from everyone, including you?
So he says nothing, and pulls on the gloves instead. Thieving hands disappear beneath leather covers.
“When we get back to Ketterdam, I’m taking my share, and I’m leaving the Dregs,” Inej says quietly.
A pang goes through Kaz. He's always known she would leave. What else would she do? Stay in a city that had captured her and stolen from her and hurt her for what? A boy who was too ruined to thank her. Kaz looks away to hide the hurt on his expression.
“You should,” he manages to say. “You were always too good for the Barrel.” Too good for him.
“Saint’s speed, Kaz.” Inej turns to move away. Let her, Kaz thinks. Let her go.
His hand shoots out of its own accord, not listening to his brain as it snags her wrist. “Inej.” Kaz’s covered thumb moves over her feather tattoo — another scar he’d forced her to wear, to relive. “If we don’t make it out, I want you to know…” he trailed off.
Know what? That he cared for her. That he was sorry for all he’d done. That he wanted her. The words stick in his throat like sticky toffee.
Inej looks at him with soft brown eyes, reaching her hand up slowly. Kaz stills. Her hand cups his cheek. Warmth spills through from it. It is the first time in nine years that he’s been touched gently, calmly, skin-to-skin. Before, it had been punches and kicks and violence. And even before that, it had been Jordie’s bloated corpse holding him in a sickly embrace.
Jordie. Inej sways before his eyes, dizziness entering his vision. Slimy, wet skin. He remembers. He remembers. Kaz was in the harbor again, drowning, freezing, pleading for help. Heat fades out and Inej-
Inej. Inej. Kaz had to fight. He had to show Inej that he may be ruined and be a monster and hurt her but there was still hope. Hope that he could stitch himself back together, smoothen over the rough edges, and become half as good as she deserved.
It is that possibility that stops Kaz from flinching away from Inej’s hand. She is his hope that guides him out of the harbor and back into reality.
“If we don’t survive this night,” Inej says. “I will die unafraid, Kaz. Can you say the same?”
Kaz does not answer. He doesn’t know. He’s never been afraid of death before. He was too well acquainted with it, with blood spilling out of flesh, disease spreading over bodies, vacant looks in brown, blue, green, gray eyes. But Kaz wasn’t so sure now. Now he was afraid. Not of death itself, but of what death would mean. Because death would mean that Kaz would never see Inej laugh again, never hear her admonish him again, never sit in silence with her again, never be with his crew again, never. And Kaz was afraid of that.
So Kaz does not answer, but he does not move away either. It is the best he can offer Inej.
It is not enough. Inej pulls her hand back and Kaz takes a deep breath, dispelling his ghosts back into the past.
Inej walks away and Kaz limps in the other direction. He cannot have Inej, but he can still hope. He can still hope for a future with her in it, no matter how small, no matter from how far away. He can still hope, and that silent hope will carry him through the night, even if he did die afraid.