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Inej
The midnight hour brought an eerie silence to the Barrel. Beyond the Slat’s attic window, the usual drunken brawls, the loud, bumbling steps and the occasional shattering of glass bottles could not be heard. Beyond Kaz’s room the world was quiet, and gentle, and peaceful. Or maybe Inej had just grown used to muting out the sound, blocking it out of her system completely; maybe she was too distracted by the strong arms enveloping her to notice anything besides their sweet, loving embrace.
The only source of light in the attic room was the pale moon, making blue-tinged shapes and shadows across Kaz’s naked chest and arms, his long, slender fingers like marble stone against her cheek. He murmured her name and it sounded like a sinful prayer to her ears, like a rough caress pressed into her skin.
“Good?” She asked, eyes closed, like she always did.
He hesitated, eyes wide open, like he always did. He took a breath. But then Inej was looking into swirls of black, and Kaz’s lips turned slightly upwards – a smile so, so different from those she had been introduced to previously. She had memorized Kaz’s smile of greed, whenever an opportunity came up and he couldn’t miss it; she had seen the scheming smile – larger, lopsided, laced with bitterness and determination and anger; the smile he wore for the people he had despised, for men like Jan Van Eck and Pekka Rollins, loaded with quiet hatred and longing for bloodlust – that was a wolf’s smile with fangs showing, every inch a predator waiting on his prey, playing his quiet little game of revenge, waiting, waiting, for any vulnerability to show, so then he could jump on them and crack their necks with a single bite. But this – the way he was now smiling at her in the darkness…
He was a boy in love and she was a girl in love and they had nothing to fear from the world, they had no memories of pain or anger, they were quietly happy, gently holding each other, peacefully observing one another. When Kaz looked at her like that, Inej found that she could not remember that wolf’s grin, that bitterness that had once governed his features. When Kaz looked at her like that, Inej realized there was no other place she wanted be.
Another habit she had developed, it seemed – spending the nights in the Slat, not in her own cramped space she had called a bedroom, but in Kaz’s chambers. On his bed.
The first night they had slept next to one another, Kaz and Inej had found themselves sitting comfortably on his bed, right after the first kiss they shared, their hands clutching tight and occasional smiles being shared. They had stayed that way ‘til the early hours of the morning, plotting and scheming against Tante Haleen and Pekka Rollins.
Inej had woken up with a sore back, but with a full heart, her back against Kaz’s chest, his forehead on her shoulder, and his arms around her stomach, holding on to her tight in his sleep. He snored – loud. She had turned around in his arms gently, sitting in between his spread legs that were too long to fit in the mattress and therefore were hanging out, and she had taken a good look at him. She had found him handsome before, having caught herself staring several times when he wasn’t looking, too distracted by names and numbers and papers. But now – having him like this, so vulnerable, sleeping so peacefully, Inej couldn’t deny how truly beautiful he was. And beauty was mostly insignificant, but… as if in a daze, she had found herself tracing the hard angles of his face – his jaw, his chin – then the soft contours of his features – his lips, the outer part of his eyelids – then he had awoken with a start.
And he did not flinch away.
Inej’s hand had hung in the air, cursing herself silently, but then – then Kaz had given her one of those smiles, not laced with bitterness but with sleep. Lazy and happy and crooked.
And still, he did not flinch away.
Then, to her surprise, his hands pressed to her sides and he was pulling her closer to him, his nose skimming the side of her face – her cheek, her temple – placing a lingering kiss there. There was still a hesitant feeling to him, in the way that he moved and even in his eyes. She’d look for signs there every time she was unsure if he was hurting – and usually the answer was there. That morning, there was no pain in his eyes, but Inej could feel the slight tremor of his arms as he held her. She had seen how it still bothered him, the effort that he had to make not to pull away.
But he resisted – and he never flinched away.
There was still a long way to go – for both of them. But that morning, Inej had woken up with arms around her, with a warm breath against her ear, lips pressed against the bare skin of her shoulder, and there hadn’t been any sirens in her mind – just peaceful happiness.
She did not flinch. Never did, with him.
Inej thought that maybe it was the way he touched her – carefully, with focused gentleness, letting her predict his next move before he made it – that prevented her body from reacting negatively, that didn’t trigger memories she’d locked away, in desperate, useless hope to forget them.
Day after day, night after night – it became easier, it became a process, a habit.
When the sun was out, Inej would pull up her hood, strap her knives to her body, and she would venture the streets of the pleasure district, carefully hidden, carefully planning, finding the cracks in Tante Haleen’s business and making cracks of her own, awaiting, rather impatiently, the day when all that woman had built would come crumbling down on top of her. Eventually, they would. Inej – and Kaz – would see to it. Every little building of hers, every property, every piece of furniture, every single thing she owned would come crashing down. She would strip that devil woman of her pride, her happiness, because that’s what she had done to Inej. And Inej would not stop until all of Tante Haleen was on the floor, in nothing but ashes.
Brick by brick.
She still had a room in Wylan’s house, but feeling like she had overstayed her visit, she had told them she’d find a house for herself – after all, she wasn’t exactly short on funds nowadays – but Jesper and Wylan had practically begged her to stay. Well, in Wylan’s case there had been begging, indeed, but Jesper was much more like: If you leave us, I will personally come get you and drag you back here. He had then amended it to: Okay, maybe not. But it would break my – our – hearts to see you go, Wraith. You’re a great company. She had found herself holding back tears, but she hadn’t argued further.
When the moon was high, Inej would find herself on rooftops, looking over at her city, her mind spinning with plans and ideas. She would breathe in, she would smile to herself – her goal was clear. Then she would go see Kaz – she found him waiting for her every time. They shared their victories of the day, sometimes ate a late dinner together, legs crossed on the chipped wooden floor, gloves and knifes disregarded. Sometimes they would kiss. Sometimes they would touch.
One night, Inej had turned to leave, but that had been forgotten when Kaz’s bare hand had pressed gently on her back, pushing her body flush against his, and he had rasped out, “Stay.”
She’d looked up at him.
“Stay,” he’d repeated, eyes searching hers, his voice lower than a whisper. “With you here I-”
He’d stopped himself, as if the vulnerability of the words unspoken was a rope tied to his throat. So Inej had said, “You sleep better?”
He’d nodded slowly, swallowing the hard lump on his throat. “Does it bother you?” He’d asked. “To sleep next to me?”
Does it bring back the memories? Is what he wanted to ask.
“No,” Inej had answered – and she had meant it. It surprised her, saying it out loud. “No, it doesn’t. It’s nice.”
“Nice?” Kaz had asked, a dark eyebrow raising.
“You snore a lot, but I appreciate the cuddle.”
And he had grinned the only way Kaz could – lazy, crooked, beautiful. And she had grinned with him, because the words “Kaz” and “cuddle” shouldn’t have never been used in the same sentence. And yet-
It had been difficult for him at first. So, they started slow: sleeping at a healthy distance, as much as the small mattress could gather, fully clothed – then, in the morning, they would wake up in each other’s arms; and every other night, Inej would stay, every other night, Kaz would open the window of her bedroom at Wylan’s, quiet and agile like a cat, and each night, they would draw closer to another, pushing their limits to see where that would take them.
Now, Kaz was lying on his side, wearing trousers hanging low on his hips, his chest shirtless. Inej remembered standing in the doorway of that room, her feet stuck to the ground and her cheeks burning, as he – just casually – rubbed a wet cloth over his naked chest. That was before the Ice Court – before everything. She’d felt like she had been prying, and she had to avert her eyes so he couldn’t read what had showed in them.
Inej wasn’t averting her eyes now.
Her eyes traced the lines of his chest, the small, faded scars in various places – constellations of his own, is what they looked like – and she kept track of his breathing, warm against her forehead, lightly blowing the little hairs on top of her head. Kaz’s arms were around her, one under her head, the other laying comfortable on her waist, touching her back, his hand drawing warm, lazy circles over her shirt.
“Good?”
Inej looked up at that whisper, at his eyes, half-closed. And she nodded. None of them flinched. “Good,” she said.
Gently, slowly, Inej raised her hand, her fingertips lightly touching the places where her eyes had wondered, but her eyes stayed on his. Kaz made no sound, no movement. She started at the side of his neck, her fingers going down, down, down to his collarbones. Kaz’s breath hitched. Startled, Inej pulled back her hand. But he grabbed it in his own, breathed in, closed his eyes, and placed her hand where it had been. He trembled.
“I want you to look at me,” she murmured.
Kaz’s eyes opened, his jaw set tight.
“It’s just me,” she said. “It’s just me.”
They always slept fully clothed. It was a barrier neither of them was ready to break down yet, but then Kaz had touched the buttons of his shirt and he’d asked her, like he always did before he crossed a line, if she minded. She’d said no, and he’d explained that it got too warm underneath the sheets during the night. But Inej had seen it as the challenge it was to him – pushing limits, forcing himself to be vulnerable, to show her that he wanted her touch, that he wanted to stop flinching away every time there was an unexpected brush of their skin.
So, with one more cautious glance at him, Inej kept her touch soft and gentle, curious and slow. She memorized the spots that made his jaw clench, as well as the ones that made his eyes flutter. His sides were off limits for now, she noted. The centre of his chest seemed fine – Inej placed her palm over his heart, counting the heartbeats, letting him have the rest he needed. Silently, Kaz placed his hand on top of hers, pushing down.
Neither one of them could deny the progress they’d made. Inej could sense the calming happiness inside him every time he broke down an obstacle, every time he initiated contact without shadows passing over his eyes. Kaz would never admit it out loud, but Inej could see it – the pride in him. Another one down.
“Go on,” he whispered to her, letting go of her hand. His arm enveloped her again – breath in, out, in, out – his hand on her back, flush against her warm skin. His touch felt like home. It felt like a prayer answered.
Her fingers continued their exploration – ever so gentle, ever so slow – and they descended down, following the line at the centre of his chest, to his abdomen. Inej felt his fingers press into her skin, his nails running lightly down her spine, reaching the end of her back. She couldn’t help it – her body inched forward, squirming slightly.
Kaz grinned.
The cunning bastard. It seemed he had her places memorized as well – especially the ones where Inej was particularly ticklish. She responded by kicking him lightly on his good knee. He responded with another grin.
“Go on, Wraith,” he repeated. There was a curious, almost wicked glint in his eyes now amidst the darkness as he tried to anticipate what she would do next.
Inej followed the path of his muscles down, feeling the thin hair caressing her fingertips, and stopped mid-way. She trailed her hand back up, stroking his skin with careful moves, until she reached his neck, his jaw and then his cheek. She smiled up at him, aware of every breath, every movement his chest made, every emotion in his eyes that would tell her something was wrong.
Nothing was wrong.
She could see the triumph as he gazed down at her. Kaz took hold of her arm, placed one little kiss on the centre of her wrist – it made her heart stop.
“Do it again,” he requested.
She did – slower, gentler. Their noses were almost touching. She’d just have to lean in, make the slightest of movements, and Inej would have his lips. But she refrained from doing so. One step at a time.
Inej let her fingers wonder further down – to the waistband of his trousers. And stopped. She looked up in time to see Kaz’s grin widen into something more than just lazy – mischievous. Kaz grinning mischievously was truly a sight to behold. Then a soft, inaudible breathy laugh from him – he was delighted, she realized. Delighted that they had reached this point, and they didn’t want to pull away from each other. On the contrary: he was pushing her closer, pressing her against him so, so close, that there wasn’t space for her hand in between then. To her surprise, Kaz brought his face closer, his nose nudging hers so, so gently, once and twice and a third time, before he lifted his chin and placed a kiss in between her eyebrows.
He kept surprising her. Every time they decided to touch, Kaz would open up to her in ways she never thought possible. He would show a tenderness so sweet, so kind, so uncharacteristic – it broke her heart into a million pieces. The man who had done terrible things, who had tortured and manipulated and tricked and robbed and killed – that man no longer existed behind that closed door. That man disappeared every time he held her and kissed her.
Kaz had barely known what to do the first time they’d kissed, touched – neither had she. They were slowly learning with each other. After so many years deprived of that comfort, it was much harder to pull away from her than it was to stay in her arms. And Inej – who had lived with those awful memories for so long – it was a miracle to her that she could begin to feel his touch and not want to slip away. It was a miracle to want him.
“Kaz,” she said suddenly, her voice a lost whisper in the dimly lit room.
“Hmm?” He pulled away his lips, looking down at her.
“Why Brekker?” She asked softly. “You could’ve chosen any name.”
He hesitated. Inej lightly traced his bottom lip as she waited, feeling him tremble underneath her touch. One breath in, another out, in, out. And then he turned his face just slightly, placing light kisses at the end of each finger. Inej followed the movement with her eyes, her throat going dry and her stomach doing back flips all over the place.
“I saw it in a piece of machinery,” he said. Then a shrug. “It was enough. But most of all – it was memorable. I wanted Rollins to go to sleep and tremble at the memory of my name. I wanted it to haunt him.”
“It does,” she said simply. And it was true – she had heard his grunts as he slept, the terror that name had caused in him. He’d said it that night – low, in almost a whisper. Like he was begging. Begging for his life, for mercy.
Inej had watched him. And she had smiled.
Kaz gave her a knowing look. “It’s not just my name that haunts him. I bet that scar still hurts him every now and then.”
Inej said nothing. She hoped for nothing more than Rollins’ misery. She hoped he would never know peace, in his life, ever again. And she also knew that if he was ever stupid enough to come back to Ketterdam, she wouldn’t be able to control herself – she would strike true and deep. She’d rip him apart for all he had done.
Kaz must’ve seen the fire erupting in her eyes, for he took her chin between his two fingers and made her look at him. He said, “You,” he dragged out the word, his eyes drifting down to her lips. “You, Wraith, are extraordinary.”
He never called her beautiful – it was like he had guessed that it would sound like sirens in her ears, like the voices of others, whispering, taunting, tormenting. But he meant to show her all the same: by letting his eyes wonder her face freely, whenever she told him about her discoveries that day; by the way he traced kisses down her jaw in the early hours of dawn; by the way his lips would linger on her cheek and she would feel him smile against her skin.
Months ago, she couldn’t have imagined she’d ever see or feel him like this – the softest parts of him, hidden and locked away for the rest of the world except for her.
Inej took those words and guarded them in the back of her mind, simply to refer to them later on during late nights on rooftops, watching over the devil herself, when she’d feel most alone, unsure.
Slowly, Inej wrapped her arm around his neck, her thigh brushing his. When his breath hitched again, she repeated the words back to him, assuring him as he had done for her, that they were here for each other – and she would not let go.
“Kaz,” she murmured again. “Kaz, look at me.”
He did.
It was longing and desire and love and fear and fire she saw in those eyes. She smiled, brushing her fingers gently through his hair on the back of his head – a touch he found relaxing, she had noticed – and she said, “I’m so happy to have met you, Kaz Rietvelt.”
Kaz took one look at her, and Inej couldn’t have put into words the feeling that passed between them as he did. And then his lips touched hers.
It was fire.
The world was on fire and the cold waters were recoiling – for both of them. Inej found herself pulling his hair, pulling him closer to her; found herself breathless as his hand travelled up her back, the warmth of him against the warmth of her; found herself spinning and spinning, lost in sensations and losing track of time, the world, herself.
Nothing existed beyond his lips descending from her mouth to her neck, sucking on her skin just beneath her ear, his hand pulling away from her back to push her loose hair off her shoulder. Then his lips were there too. And all she could do to keep herself in this world was whisper his name – a silent request.
But Kaz pulled away, dark eyes searching her face, his lips red and parted, in doubt and fear. He looked positively dishevelled, breathless, his gaze unfocused and intent at the same time. “Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me what I did wrong.”
Inej blinked. “You did nothing wrong.”
“I-”
“Don’t be afraid,” she said, one gentle hand laying over his heart. “It’s okay.”
Kaz furrowed his eyebrows, gently touching his nose to hers. “I’m so terrified,” he confessed. His jaw clenched, like it was an effort for him to say the words. “You, Inej,” he murmured her name in absolute adoration. “You make me forget – you make me forget it all ever happened.”
“So am I,” she admitted with a sigh. She kissed the corner of his mouth as she whispered. “But you make it easier.”
His eyes closed. One breath against her skin. Two hands holding her tight. Three seconds pass. And then Inej raised her chin, just the slightest of movements, and she took his lips again – and again, and again. Gentle, soft kisses pressing into his lips, his chest rising and falling in time with each one, and they were in a forgotten world that consisted of nothing, of no one but themselves.
“Kiss me.” Inej had barely finished the words when Kaz’s month pressed against hers. And Inej thought she might’ve died then and there, because her heart felt like it had cracked open and melted inside her chest.
Kaz deepened the kiss. At the very first stroke of his tongue on her bottom lip, Inej opened up to him, sighing into his month in blissful contentment. She felt strong, she realized. A different kind of strength than when she had both her knifes on her hands – she felt unafraid in his arms. She felt like she could stay there forever, letting herself be sheltered and comforted, letting herself feel and be vulnerable, letting herself be free of weapons and walls.
His tongue. His hand on the back of her knee, hitching her leg up, up, up, until it was around his waist. A tremble from him, a clenching of a fist. Inej turned her face, her kiss softer, lighter. It was a kiss that said, It’s okay. You’re here with me. The water won’t get to you.
Kaz drew a shuddering breath against her mouth, his hands pulling her closer, clutching to her clothes so tightly she thought he’d rip them off eventually. But then he was rolling onto his back, pulling her body half on top of him, and Inej could feel every contour of muscle against her, feel the hard panes of chest against her hands, the warmth of the skin of his waist under the inside of her thigh. Breathless, she pulled her mouth away, searching his eyes.
Kaz was smiling. He looked giddy. She couldn’t take it – Inej leaned down with a smile of her own, and touched her lips softly to his, just once. No water, no cold. No flinching. Parts of his body felt strained underneath her, but – one step at a time.
“Sleep,” she murmured, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Kaz’s mischievous mouth touched her throat as she did. Inej’s eyes fluttered closed, her hand raising to touch his cheek, her thumb moving back and forth, so slow.
“You’ll be the death of me, Inej.”
She laughed – vibrant and happy and carefree.
Kaz’s face softened – and Inej was mesmerized, for a split second, by the tenderness she saw in those eyes of his – dark pools of molten chocolate. It was love, she thought to herself. It was unconditional, unredeemable love in that gaze, it was love she found as he pulled her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, it was love she found when he gave her the last kiss of that night - slow, gentle, and so, so tender - before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
And it was love she heard when he whispered against her hair – slow, gentle, and so, so tender – right as she was falling into a happy, dreamless sleep, “That’s the laugh.”