#Kaznej fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moiraineswife · 6 years

Text

In The Eye Of A Reckoning - A Kaz/Inej Fic

@blogtealdeal inspired this *cough* small *cough* kaznej fic and so...here it is.

Title: In The Eye Of A Reckoning

Summary: Post Crooked Kingdom. Kaz and Inej’s reunion takes place unexpectedly under strange circumstances.

Teaser: “Do you think he deserves that?” he asked, quietly, and then he was moving towards her again, and that tension that had died like a ship without the wind to fill its sails suddenly flared again between them. “Do you think he deserves a quick death?”

“Perhaps not,” she responded quietly, “But my soul does not deserve to be damaged in the way it would be if I were to torture him.”

“I could take care of that for you,” he offered blandly, “My soul is already thoroughly ruined. This likely wouldn’t even register.”

Link: AO3

“This is a new suit.”

Inej paused, the blade of her knife less than an inch from the terrifying man’s throat. Each time the apple of it bobbed in time with his rapid breathing it scraped against the edge, producing the same hoarse rasping sound as the voice that had just interrupted her.

“I would hate for it to be ruined by the mess you’re about to make.”

One knee locked firmly against the stomach of her prey to keep him pinned in place, knife still flush against his throat, she turned.

He looked exactly the same as he had done when she had left six months earlier. The same sharp, dark suit. The same crow-headed cane that he leaned on to ease the pressure on his bad leg. The same pale, papery skin. The same dark eyes that looked black in the silent of the midnight hour, as though they had swallowed all the darkness of the night’s sky. The same faint quirk to his lips, that might have been a smile, had it not looked so deadly.

She narrowed her eyes lightly, increasing the pressure on her prey’s stomach, just to make sure he remembered she was there, that she held his life in the palm of her hand this time.

“What are you doing here, Kaz?” she asked, quietly.

“You haven’t been away that long, surely,” he said, thin lips daring to lift just a little more at their corners, dragging the crooked smirk into something she might have described as a smile if she were feeling generous. “Business, Inej, always business.”

For a moment, a moment that had lasted longer than the fraction between heartbeats, she had thought he might have said it had something to do with her. She had thought that perhaps Kaz who, rumours claimed, now owned the barrel, and, as rumours often underestimated him, likely owned half of Ketterdam, had heard that she would be here, that he might have arranged this meeting to see her. That he might, perhaps, have truly missed her. But it was business. It was always business. It always would be.

“I have business of my own to attend to,” she shot back, endeavouring to make her voice as cold and emotionless as his. She had never mastered how he managed to do it; she doubted that she ever would. There was too much humanity in her, and whatever there once might have been in Kaz Brekker, the world had claimed it all for itself, and left behind nothing but ruthless pragmatism.

“Ah, yes,” Kaz’s eyes darted down to the man pinned beneath her, “I thought you might be paying him a visit soon.” He moved a little closer, and in spite of herself, she felt her heart beat just a little faster, felt her muscles tense just a little in anticipation.

She still remembered it. That moment in the bathroom, when he had helped her dress her wounds. After what she had endured, what men like the piece of filth beneath her had sold her into, forced her to become, she had sworn to herself that she would never allow another man to lay hands on her, would never allow them close enough to do so. Kaz had helped her realise that ambition. He had taken her into the Dregs, he had seen that she was trained, had helped with it himself. He had transformed her, from an acrobat, to a broken doll, to a Wraith, a name that Ketterdam still whispered in fear.

Then he had shattered that dream just the same. With his clumsy, trembling touches. The soft brushes of his fingers against her skin had felt like hot fires on a cold day, like the freedom and joy that came from soaring through heights that had been made only for birds and stars, and her. It had felt like life, and she had craved it every moment since leaving it. And cursed herself as many times as she had wished for it.

“I am sorry to interrupt, and am quite eager to see his blood splattered across these walls,” he glanced down at her captive who was watching them, eyes darting between them, no doubt trying to understand what the hell was going on, “Which will improve the decor beyond recognition,” he added dismissively, “But I would like to have a word with your prey before you render him quite speechless.”

She frowned at him, “You know what he is, Kaz,” she said, quietly. He knew, he had to know. Kaz knew everything that happened in this city, in his city, surely he would not suggest she let him live. Every breath he drew as they spoke was one too many, and one more than he would have given any of his victims.

“I know that he’s a very useful asset and I need to speak with him before you treat him to a little of your Retribution,” she blinked, startled that he knew the name carved into the new blade she wielded but then- He was smiling at her in that way of his, eyebrows raised as though surprised she hadn’t already understood, “You think I would forget your birthday?” Before she could respond, he continued smoothly, as though there had been no interruption, “I have been planning this job for three months, Inej, and he is key to the next stage of it. If you could postpone his execution by five minutes so that we might have a friendly chat first, I would appreciate it.”

She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to rant and rage. How could he tell her that he had somehow managed to send her a birthday present when she had been in the middle of the ocean, replacing one of the blades she had lost on her last mission precisely when she’d needed it, and then slip smoothly back into the cold mask of the icy businessman without so much as a pause for breath between the two? He was infuriating, he was insufferable, he was reminding her of every reason she had left, every reason she had demanded that she have him without armour, every reason that this, whatever this was, would never have worked between them.

The slaver beneath her suddenly bucked his hips, trying to dislodge her, and she snarled her impatience. Before she could do more, however, Kaz had swung his cane from nowhere. It moved so quickly she heard its whistle without seeing its movement, but it came to rest upon the slaver’s throat, poised to crush it if Kaz twisted the right way.

“The lady and I are trying to have a conversation,” he informed the man mildly, “If you would be so good as to not interrupt it.” The man spluttered at this, but gave no other answer, so Kaz continued. “You ought to thank me, truly, I’ve extended your life a few miserable minutes with this visit.” His eyes bulged as Kaz increased the pressure with his cane. Inej watched, silent. He would not take this kill away from her. Some days she felt as though she barely knew him, but this she knew without a shred of doubt in her heart. This was hers, and he would let her have it.

“If you behave yourself, I may even extend it a little more. Be grateful, and do it in silence.”

She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him. The knife slid a little more from the slaver’s throat and he jerked beneath her, obviously thinking her defences lowered. At almost exactly the same moment the hilt of her dagger connected with his left temple, the head of Kaz’s staff, flipped deftly through the air, away from his throat, had made contact with the right.

This teased another slight smile from Kaz, who observed drily, “Well, you know what they say of great minds.”

Inej glanced down at the slaver, making sure he was definitely unconscious, before she rose fluidly to her full height, stowing her dagger at her belt. “I’ve heard they say the same of fools.”

“Your Saints still have an answer for anything I might say, then?” he asked, eyebrow raised. There was a new scar just above it. A tiny thing, already silver with age, shaped like a crescent moon that had fallen from the sky to lie on its back in the dust. She hated how it drew her eye, hated more how it made her stomach clench to think of how he might have gotten it.

“Always,” she threw back. Then she turned, walked a little away from her prey before turning to him again. She opened her mouth to speak, but he had moved closer, much too close. But she did not back away.

“You haven’t changed,” his said, his voice was lower now, and somehow richer.

“I was thinking the same of you,” she returned, but he barely seemed to be listening.

His hand had lifted, still cased in its protective gloves. She ought to pull away, he was far too close, and they couldn’t do this now. Whatever this was. They both had business to attend to. But again, she did not move, as he reached out to her, saying in a voice so soft that had she not known him so well she might have missed it, “Except...”

The head of his cane slid beneath her chin, the cold metal pressing gently but insistently into her skin, tilting her head up. Then the tip of a deft finger delicately traced the still healing cut on her cheek, just below her right eye. A mirror to his, she realised.

She shivered a little. That he had noticed, that he had drawn attention to it...That he had touched her. Even with his gloves on, he had touched her. It was more thrilling than any of the hunts she had gone on, than any of the slavers she had stopped. It was more thrilling, even, than soaring through the air on the swings of her youth, more thrilling than anything she had ever felt, or ever would.

“I would ask if you had slipped, but-“ she opened her mouth, frowning slightly, but he pressed the same finger that had just brushed her cheek to her lips, stopping the words and then speaking them before she had the chance, “But you never fall, do you, Wraith?” The way he said that word, devoid of the fear that others imbued it with, but flooded with awe and dripping in satisfaction, sent another shiver through her.

“Never,” she breathed.

He seemed to come to his sense a moment later, clearing his throat, he stepped away. A part of her couldn’t help but be disappointed. The other part was half relieved, half confused. She turned away from him, too, staring out of the window through which she had slipped tonight to fulfil her bloody deed. All the while, she could feel his eyes upon her.

“I do need to have a word with Mr Taskar before you eviscerate him,” he said, clearly wishing to bring the conversation back to business.

“That’s why you came here tonight?” she asked, turning back to face him, without knowing why she was asking.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second longer than he usually would have before he answered, simply, “Yes.”

She straightened up a little, frowning, “I came here to kill him.”

“I don’t see that that makes us enemies,” he said softly, carefully, “You can still kill him. Slowly, painfully, creatively, however you wish.”

She frowned slightly at him, “I’m not a monster, Kaz,” she said, quietly. “He deserves to die, but I’ll make it quick.”

“Do you think he deserves that?” he asked, quietly, and then he was moving towards her again, and that tension that had died like a ship without the wind to fill its sails suddenly flared again between them. “Do you think he deserves a quick death?”

“Perhaps not,” she responded quietly, “But my soul does not deserve to be damaged in the way it would be if I were to torture him.”

“I could take care of that for you,” he offered blandly, “My soul is already thoroughly ruined. This likely wouldn’t even register.”

“Kaz,” she reproached slightly, frowning. He was always so calm, so composed when he said these things, and meant them too. Kaz Brekker had never said a thing he didn’t mean. It shouldn’t have shocked her, yet it did.

“Inej,” he repeated, mirroring her tone, his voice a low rasp, like the sound of the bow of her ship slicing through the ocean waves.

She had to fight to compose herself, to keep her voice steady as she replied, “I want him dead, I don’t need him to suffer.”

“Shame,” he said, evenly, tugging slightly on his gloves to readjust them. Then he met her eyes again with that startling dark gaze, “I need five minutes of his time while he still has some left to him.”

“Ask me nicely,” she said. The words were out of her mouth before she had fully finished thinking them, let alone wrapped her head around him.

Kaz raised an eyebrow at her and she held her breath. Then she realised something, something that she had never truly realised before. In this moment, and perhaps in many more that she had never fully registered at the time, she held all of the power, all of the cards. She was in control, and he was at her mercy. The realisation was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once. What was even more was the fact that she rather liked the sensation.

He studied her for a long, heavy moment, then he nodded his head as if to say but of course, as though he had expected nothing else. Then he sank into a ridiculously low bow, flourhing his long-fingered, elegant hands at her before he said, “My darling, Inej, would you please be so good as to allow to your humble, thieving servant to have but a few moments of this man’s time before you open his throat?”

She resisted rolling her eyes with difficulty as he straightened, smiling.

“I should ram a blade through his heart right now,” she said, “To teach you a lesson in humility.”

“But you won’t,” he said, with another shocking demonstration of why he needed a lesson in humility.

She fingered the hilt of her dagger, “Why is that?” she asked, voice quiet and low.

He gave her another crooked half-smile, “Because then you’d miss knowing my secret.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at that, then narrowed a moment later as she tried to understand if he was still teasing her, still playing games. Taskar groaned behind them and both turned their attention to him at once. Kaz limped over to him and then stopped, eyebrows raised at her, clearly questioning, seeking her permission.

She considered him for a long moment, then nodded her head, allowing him to proceed.

Without further ado, Kaz dragged the semi-conscious, evidently confused Taskar towards one of his highly polished, overly-intricate dining chairs and propped him up in it. Then he braced both hands upon it, pinning the man to it by the sheer force of his will, and began to speak in a low, dangerous voice.

“Mr Taskar, I am a very busy man, as you might imagine if you’ve guessed who I am. And you’re a smart man, Mr Taskar, so I’m quite sure you have guessed.” Taskar remained mute, apparently too frozen with fear to give any response at all.

“Haven’t you?” Kaz prompted him, a little impatiently. Inej gave him a light jab with the tip of her knife and he yelped, startled, apparently having forgotten that she was there, which was always a mistake. He nodded at once, looking back at Kaz again, still blatantly terrified.

“Good,” Kaz said, smoothly, glancing at Inej in thanks as she stalked back into the shadows the two of them had once chased demons through together. “The lady has been kind enough to give me a few minutes of your now borrowed time, but she’s busy herself, and I don’t wish to keep her waiting, do you?” Taskar shook his head, evidently thinking this is what Kaz wanted to hear, and Kaz smirked. Even Inej smiled as the man agreed to not delaying his own death too long, just in case it upset the Bastard of the Barrel and his Wraith.

“Now,” Kaz continued, “I am aware that you recently took possession of the cargo of a ship that came into port a few days ago named the Wind Runner.”

Inej narrowed her eyes, pacing with silent steps along the edges of the ornate rug while she watched the interrogation play out. She knew that Taskar had taken possession of the cargo of the Wind Runner. She also knew what that cargo had been. It was why she was here. What she didn’t know was why Kaz had any interest in it. Perhaps he needed information.

“I never, I-“ Taskar began, apparently finding his tongue for the first time since Inej had pinned him to the floor and pressed a knife to his throat.

“Mr Taskar,” Kaz interrupted, with the kind of forced patience Inej had learned was as much a precursor to violence as gathering storm clouds were, “The more you refrain from insulting my intelligence and speaking when not asked to do so, the happier I will be. Am I understood.”

“Ye-“

“Am I understood?” Kaz repeated dangerously.

Taskar nodded mutely.

“Good,” Kaz repeated, then continued. “I want you to tell me where they are. All of them. In very precise detail.”

Taskar was silent. Kaz sighed impatiently, “You have permission to speak now, Mr Taskar. Answer me.”

“Why should I?” The slaver demanded. Apparently adrenaline had finally unlocked a shred of courage and fight in the man, as he spat in Kaz’s face. Kaz dabbed the spittle away with a handkerchief, looking disappointed by the lack of imagination. “The moment I do, you’re going to hand me over to your little whore and-“

In spite of herself, Inej flinched.

Kaz did not. He did not break eye contact with Taskar, did not even begin to glance at her. He simply cracked Taskar across the face with enough force to shatter his nose, causing blood to stream from it while the slaver howled in pain.

“I would advise you, Mr Taskar,” Kaz said, with deadly quiet, “To watch your mouth. You see, while you were unconscious down there on the floor, the lady and I had a rather interesting conversation. She only intended to cut your throat and rid the world of the blight you’ve cast upon it for forty three years. I, on the other hand, think that she’s being entirely too generous with you.” He leaned in closer, so that his lips were a fraction of an inch from Taskar’s ear, then he said softly, “Do you know what I would do with you, Mr Taskar?”

Taskar remained frozen, eyes bluging, the burst of fear from a moment before had drained away faster than the colour in his blotchy cheeks.

“I asked you a question, Mr Taskar,” Kaz said, softly, “I thought you understood my rules. This is where you provide an answer.”

“No,” he managed to squeak.

“Well I,” Kaz said, with the casual tone of one commenting on the weather, “I don’t think you deserve a quick death. I think, after all that you’ve done, you deserve to suffer. I think that were it down to me, we would be in this room for quite some time, and I would ensure that you paid the price for every life you’ve ruined over the years. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Taskar trembled, but otherwise made no reply. Kaz jabbed him with the head of his cane again and he yelped, sweating and shaking worse than ever as he obediently gasped out, “Yes I, I understand you, I-“

“Right now, the only thing standing between you and that fate is the lady’s morals, morals I assure you I do not possess. If, however, there is another word out of your mouth that I don’t wish to hear, I think I might be able to persuade her.”

He glanced to Inej. She stopped in front of the window. Half of her face was now cast in moonlight from the world beyond, half remained bathed in the shadow of the room that held them both. They were of different lives, now, different worlds, yet somehow they remained united.

She nodded slowly, eyes locked on Taskar, making sure he could see, making sure he knew.

Kaz had once told her that there was a darkness inside every person. A depth to which they could sink, a rage that they kept hidden from the world, even from themselves, but which they could reach if they were pushed. In that moment, as she looked into the eyes of this man, the man who had sold her, and hundreds like her, she felt a flicker of it brush her soul for the first time. And she did not pull away.

“I want names, Mr Taskar,” Kaz said, almost pleasantly, “I want locations. I want details. And I want them now.”

The words poured from him. One after the other. He cried through some of them, unable to remember the specifics, and so he gave descriptions. Kaz absorbed them all in silence, revealing nothing, giving no reaction or response, simply letting Taskar talk, until all of the words had bled from him.

Then he rose, turned his back on the man, and walked away.

“Is, is that it?” Taskar demanded, his voice trembling, half-rising from his chair. “Was that enough?” Kaz turned slowly, very slowly, staring at Taskar with pure loathing in his eyes, a loathing that Inej knew meant that he knew. He knew what this man was to her. “Will you let me go now? I gave you everything you wanted. I told you it all, everything I know, everything I remember. I gave you everything.”

“Yes, Mr Taskar,” Kaz said with lethal quiet, “You gave me everything I wanted. But you haven’t given her a damned thing, yet.”

For the second time, Taskar seemed to have forgotten that Inej was there. He remembered when she slipped from the pocket of shadow she had been standing in, slipped out her blade, the blade that Kaz had somehow gifted her, and pressed it once more against his throat.

“Please,” he rasped, tears falling from his eyes, “Please I, I gave you everything you asked for, everything, I swear it, I swear it. You don’t have to do this, you don’t. Call her off, call her off.” He was looking at Kaz again, begging him to intercede.

“I am not his dog,” Inej spat, a bite to her voice, even as Kaz remained quite silent, allowing her to do this as she wanted. “I am not his pet, nor his spy, nor his Wraith. I am not anyone’s. I belong entirely to myself. I am a free woman, now. And I have a name for you, too, Mr Taskar.”

“Yes,” he wheezed, the apple of his throat once again scraping against the edge of her knife which, this time, was pressed so close to it that the action drew blood. He shook desperately, clearly terrified, “Yes, of course, anything, anything.”

She leaned in close and then whispered softly in his ear, “Inej Ghafa.”

Terror came first. That girl had not been on the Wind Runner. He could not remember her on the list of slaves he had received. He did not know.

Then came the recognition. And at that, sheer terror bloomed in his eyes as he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. And this time, this time he did not see the Wraith. He did not see Kaz Brekker’s deadly spy. He saw her. He saw the young girl that he had kidnapped and sold. He saw, and he remembered, and he feared her more than he had ever feared Kaz. As he had every right to.

She slashed the blade across his throat, letting it bite deep. Then she stood back into the shelter of the shadow that had almost consumed Kaz. And together they watched in silence, as the man who had destroyed her died in front of her, and the man who had helped her save herself stood just behind, waiting.

Taskar slumped in his chair, blood staining the front of his expensive shirt, curling down the long, ornate legs of his chair, and dying the plush white rug red, like rose petals blossoming from beneath a blanket of snow. She watched until it was done, until the man who had taken her life had paid with his own, then she turned to go.

She was halfway across the room when she stopped. Kaz had not spoken, had not moved from where he had been standing. She had expected…She did not know what, a farewell, a wish of good luck, a question as to how she was, anything, anything but silence.

“Why?” she asked him quietly.

He turned slowly to face her. The moonlight caught in his dark eyes and for a moment they gleamed like her blades in the night.

“Why do you think?” he replied. He did not need to ask what she meant. They both knew each other too well for that.

She hesitated, then she said, “I want to think it’s because you mean to help those girls,” she said, softly. “I want to think that you are doing some good in this world, Kaz Brekker. I want to think that you are helping those in this city who once suffered as I suffered. I want to think…” she paused for a moment, staring at him, “I want to think that your soul is perhaps not as ruined as you claimed.”

I want to think that you might be chipping that armor away, piece by piece. I want to think that you’ve changed. I want to think that you can be a better man. I want to think that you want me.

A crooked smile tugged at his lips, though it seemed to her to be tinged with a strange sort of sadness that she could not quite place. “I asked what you did think, Inej, not what you wanted to think.”

She stared at him for a long time then, finally she murmured, “I think that it’s business, Kaz.”

His smile deepened. “Isn’t it always?” he replied enigmatically.

Yes.

No.

I don’t know.

“Is it?” she whispered, both pleading with him to give her the answer she wanted, and pleading with herself not to want any answer at all.

He only smiled, and gave her no answer at all. They both knew that his answer had never truly been what mattered. The question had been what mattered. The question, and her answer. Not his.

She turned and stepped towards the windowsill, sure that he had left her. Just as she was about to spring from it and return to her ship, however, his voice stopped her for the second time that night.

“Inej,” he said, and she turned, the wind that blew through the open window tugging at her hair, dragging it out, as though inviting her to join it once more, where she belonged. But she hesitated, resisted its call for just a moment, staring into the fathomless dark eyes of Kaz Brekker, the eyes that had saved her, the eyes that had set the seal upon her freedom, the eyes that loved her, and she waited. “I lied to you earlier.”

Ice cascaded into her veins, she opened her mouth to speak, to demand to know what he had done, why he had done it, but again he interrupted her, stopped her.

“I came here to interrogate an asset.”

Inej held her breath.

“I came here tonight to see you.”

Before she could reply he was gone, swallowed once more by the shadows that he had chosen to make his home. She hesitated a heartbeat, before she leapt from the window, allowing the winds to embrace he, and carry her home to the freedom she had crafted upon the deck of a ship.

#kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #kaznej #leigh bardugo #six of crows #crooked kingdom #ck #soc #soc series #soc fic #my fic #kaznej fic #*rises from the ashes of death and posts a single fic*#for u nicole #only for u #i hope u still like it D:#apparently i write soc fic now #there u go

142 notes · View notes

lynyrdwrites · 7 years

Text

Are you going to leave a path to trace

What’s that? Is it me writing for yet another fandom? Why yes it is! This is my first attempt at Six of Crows fic, particularly Kaz/Inej fic. You should know that I have decided to completely ignore certain Unfortunate Events that occurred in Crooked Kingdom. Because I can.

Song title from Obilvion by Bastille, because Bastille has so many Kaz/Inej songs.

---

They go their separate ways. Nina and Matthias leave for Ravka. Before long, Jesper and Wylan follow, seeking another Fabrikator. By then, Inej had already been gone for months, tales of her achievements already finding their way back to Ketterdam; some of them borne by Slavers who are marked by the Sea Wraith, and Kaz remembers their faces. Their names marked down, in case is Wraith ever needs the information.

Because Kaz, of course, stays in the Barrel.

He is the Bastard of the Barrel, the leader of the Crows, the Dregs. He is the nightmare that lives under the bed of the Merchant children.

He is completely and utterly alone.

He always had been, or so he had thought. But somehow, he had grown used to Inej being there, just a step behind him. He had grown used to seeing Jesper at the card tables. He had grown used to being able to call on Nina at the brothel. He had even grown used to Wylan, a nervous spectre that never quite fit.

He thinks he might miss Matthias, and that thought makes Kaz believe he must be going mad.

It’s Inej he misses the most, though – an ache, every bit as painful as the one in his leg. More so, even. He can always rest his wounded limb, but his heart?

Every time it beats, it beats out her name. InejInejInej.

He’s a heartsick fool.

Not that anyone in the Barrel would realize that. A lovesick Kaz is even more of a bastard than regular Kaz, and now there is no Inej to appear silently at his side, and remind him that there’s something good in the world. There’s no Jesper, with a quick jest to make his lips quirk.

In his office, he doesn’t wear his gloves.

At first, he tells himself that it’s because he’s warm. But the Inej has been gone for months, and he stops trying to fool himself.

He does it, because if she returns, he wants to be able to touch her without the protective covering. Just the thought of it, of stoking his fingers down her dark cheek, makes him ache. It makes him think of holding her hand on the dock, and he doesn’t remember salt water threatening to overtake him, but instead the warmth of her skin against his.

He spends miserable nights that way, wanting some sort of relief, but not entirely sure how to find it. It’s sad and pathetic, but while Kaz has known desire before, it’s always been easily forgotten. But he can’t forget Inej, or how her skin felt against his.

He doesn’t want to.

Instead, he just acts like an even bigger bastard, if that’s even possible. Except for those days when tales of the Sea Wraith reach him.

The slavers fear her above all others, and it makes Kaz almost giddy.

They should fear Inej.

It’s ten months to the day after she first left that her berth is no longer empty.

Kaz is taking a step forward – a handshake, with another bastard who has a hunger in his eyes Kaz recognizes. Skin touches, and water threatens to rises over Kaz’s head.

“The deal is the deal.”

“The deal is the deal.” It takes every ounce of Kaz’s strength not to retch on the words. He swears the skin feels bloated and clammy… and then the contact breaks, and Kaz can breathe again. No one looks at him oddly, and he realizes that none of them knows how very close he came to breaking.

Inej would have. He thinks, and how many times has he thought that?

Jesper could shoot that.

Wylan would understand that.

Nina could do that.

Even the damn Druskelle wouldn’t be fooled by that.

It’s those thoughts that take him to the docks. It’s a weakness he’s showing to the world, but he couldn’t stop himself even if he cared to try. Not with the memory of salt water a burn in his throat.

His footsteps are wooden. He’s walked this path so many times, and he knows what he’ll find. An empty berth for a girl that deserves so much more than the wretched creature he is.

Except this time, the berth isn’t empty.

The Wraith.

He makes quick work of looking at the ship, ignoring the boy on guard, until he says in what’s likely meant to be an intimidating way that the captain and her passengers have already disembarked.

Captain and her passengers.

The Van Eck house is alive when he reaches it. Laughter and the echo of luggage making it alive in ways it hasn’t been for months. He stand in the archway for several moments, silently observing.

They are exactly as he remembers them.

Jesper, wild and reckless and loud is teasing Wylan with Nina’s assistance, and Matthias watches them all with silent stoicism. But Kaz knows that’s a fond glint in the Fjerdan’s gaze, and Kaz wonders, briefly, if it’s echoed in his own.

“Demjin,” Matthias says, the first to notice Kaz’s presence.

“Kaz!” Nina is as alive and dazzling as ever, as she comes to him. Were he someone else, she would have thrown her arms around him, he knows, but instead she settles for a bright smile. “That was fast.”

Kaz’s brow furrows, not understanding – what was fast? – but Wylan is looking over his shoulder.

“Where’s Inej?” he asks.

“Yeah,” adds Jesper. “We’re supposed to be having a victory party. To celebrate the Wraith’s insanity.”

Kaz will want to explore the meaning of that statement, but not now. Not when he knows that Inej had gone to find him. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries as he turns his back on the others, but if they expected such from him, they’ll have to live in disappointment.

He gets odd looks as he rushes through the Barrel, but for once Kaz Brekker doesn’t care about what the Dregs or the other gangs think of him. If he has to, he’ll remind them what Dirtyhands can do.

Right now all he wants is –

He’s breathing heavily when he bursts through the door of his office… and there she is.

She’s sitting in the window, her face tilted towards the sun, a breeze stirring strands of hair that have escaped her braid. It’s shorter, he realizes with a jolt, and her skin is even darker.

She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Kaz.” She turns from the sun to look at him, her dark brown eyes taking in every detail of him, just as she is him. “You’re not wearing your gloves.”

He’s confused for a moment, looks down, and realizes she’s right. He had tucked them into his pocket for the meeting, and never put them back on. He tugs them out now, holds them up for Inej to see.

“Small steps,” he says after a moment. He leans against his desk, not quite ready to approach her. His fingertips itch for contact, but he doesn’t want to ruin this with memories of salt water and bloated skin, not yet. So instead he just… watches her.

“Small steps,” Inej murmurs softly, a small smile curving her lips. “I followed a ship-”

She cuts off as Kaz holds up a paper from his desk. It’s the name of every Slaver that’s docked in Ketterdam and who they did business with. Inej pulls herself into the room and walks to him on silent feet.

“They’re yours,” Kaz says, and wonders if his voice sounds more hoarse than usual. It feels like it should. Inej accepts the paper, and then takes another step, into his space. They aren’t touching, but it’s close.

He can see all the different colors in her eyes; the shadows her lashes cast over her cheeks.

“You brought a shipful back,” he says, clenching his hands on his desk against the urge to touch her. She’s here, and he’s not ready for the magic of this moment to be lost to a nightmare.

“I stopped in Ravka. They were homesick.”

“Nina and the Druskelle?” Kaz raises an eyebrow, not believing her.

“Home isn’t a place, Kaz. It’s a person.” She doesn’t touch him, but she doesn’t move away from him either. “You are part of that.”

He has no words, and he can no longer deny himself. So reaches out, and runs his fingers over her cheek. Her skin is soft and surprisingly dry. She turns her face into his touch, and Kaz brings his other hand up, so he’s cradling her face.

Salt water and –

“Kaz” – the voice breaks into his memories, and somehow her hand on his tugs him back, rather than pushing him further – “look at me Kaz.”

He does, because he always needs to look at her, it seems, even when she’s out at sea and has to yearn and wait at an empty berth instead. So he looks at her, until his frantic breathing calms. He still cradles her face, her hands covering his, and he doesn’t want to stop touching her, but nausea is threatening in the back of his throat, and it’s an odd mixture, this regret and revulsion as he lets her go, watches her step back.

“I missed you.” The words are little more than a murmur, but the way Inej freezes for a second tells him she heard him.

“I’m staying with Wylan and Jesper, we all are,” she says, rather than acknowledging the words that have let Kaz uncomfortable and adrift. He can only appreciate that. “Though I suspect you know that.”

“A party. Something about your insanity?” he feels more in control of himself now, enough to raise a questioning brow at her. Inej looks back at him as she climbs in the window again. The sun creates a halo of light behind her, and Kaz feels his breath catch.

“Jesper is becoming a worried old woman without a gun in his hand,” Inej replies with a grin. “Come join us, when your business allows.”

“I will,” Kaz replies. He’ll probably be out the door as soon as she’s gone, but he won’t admit that. She ducks her head to leave, but Kaz isn’t ready to share her, not just yet. “Inej?’

She looks back, a question in her eyes.

“Welcome home.”

She quirks her head, as though trying to see through him. Kaz isn’t quite ready to let her see all of him, not yet… but he tries to let her see all that he can give her right now.

Home is a person.

You are my home.

I would like to be yours.

“I’ve missed it,” Inej replies, and Kaz isn’t fooled that she means Ketterdam as a whole. The city has been far too cruel to her for that.

She’s gone, and Kaz leans back against his desk once more, the warmth of her skin still a memory on his fingertips.

It’s good to be home.

#Kaznej #Kanej #Six of Crows #Kaznej fic #Kanej fic

163 notes · View notes