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Kaz was waking, but it was still dark.
His head thrummed with a dull ache. His mind swam in the space between wakefulness and sleep, where reality whispered and nonsense shouted.
His legs and hands were bound—
Inej parem Ice Court tank—
There was something scratchy drawn tight around his eyes—
Inej setup Van Eck island—
The air was damp and still, interrupted only by his labored breathing—
Inej, where the Saints is Inej—
His consciousness broke through the surface. Senses rushed back all at once: the cold stone beneath his aching limbs, the numbness of his tightly bound hands, the stale taste in his too-dry mouth. Memories rushed forward too, as if his restless mind was compensating for all that time it spent limp and unused. The island rendezvous, the fake ship, the sudden betrayal. Kill everyone but Brekker. Then Kaz made his mistake, his eyes found Inej, and her eyes found his. That’s when Van Eck changed his tune. Leave the others, he had said. We’ll use the bastard as leverage.
They had fought. Saints, they had fought like the Barrel demons they were. But Van Eck had Grisha with parem. Kaz knew he took a few down with him, but not enough to escape the blow, the crack, the sudden darkness.
The hairs on the back of Kaz’s neck rose. Where was his crew? Did Van Eck take everyone on Vellgeluk? Or did he keep his word, making Kaz the only hostage?
Kaz cleared his throat. The rasp echoed through the dark. No reply. Kaz wasn’t stupid enough to call out for Inej, or Jesper, or anyone for that matter. Van Eck could be watching and waiting, eager to know who Kaz would reach to first in the unknown.
Kaz sat up. His stiff limbs ached in protest. His back and hands found a solid surface directly behind him. He turned, scraping his face against the salty stone, determined to get the blindfold off. On the fifth try, it slipped down his neck, and Kaz found more darkness. He swallowed his mounting fear and strained his eyes until the shadows solidified into vague shapes: a windowless door, a drain in the middle of the floor, a tiny vent in the wall. If Inej were here, she could make it through that vent. Saints, if the Wraith had been captured instead of him, she would have slipped out of her bounds and escaped already.
Escape. That was the highest priority. Kaz wriggled his numb fingers and began to plan, to scheme, to strategize. The bounds were tight, but Van Eck underestimated the lengths a Barrel rat would go to get out of a trap. If he broke his wrist on purpose, could he slip out of the knot? Would he be able to undo the ties at his feet one-handed? What if someone came in before he was done? Could he repurpose his blindfold as a noose? Could he choke a guard out before they called for reinforcements?
Before Kaz could move forward with any plan, the door groaned open. Six armed guards strode in, stern and silent.
“What business?” Kaz asked, just to throw something into the air. Better to act undisturbed than admit how little he knew.
The guards did not reply. One reached down to grab his arm. His bare hand latched around Kaz’s bicep and hoisted him up. Then he began dragging Kaz out of the room. That would have been tolerable—Kaz’s thin mercher’s shirt provided just enough armor to beat back the waves—if the other guards hadn’t cloistered so closely around him, boxing him in.
It was then Kaz realized just how much trouble he was in. Torture he could tolerate. Abuse he could shoulder. But if Van Eck noticed his short breath, his clammy skin, his unfocused eyes when human bodies were involved, it wouldn’t matter if Inej or Jesper or anyone rescued him. He’d come undone.
Saints, it was like he was back in the prison cart. The guards dragged him down hallways and pass rooms that Kaz tried his best to remember, but his attention was robbed by the heat, the smell, the touch of bodies around him. His heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest, poking along his ribs, like it wanted to pierce itself. Don’t thing of the harbor, Kaz thought uselessly, because what else could he tell himself?
You’re not on the Barge.
Skin, too much skin, trapping him and suffocating—
That was years ago.
The stench of sweat was stuck in his nostrils, giving way to rot—
This is now. You’re not… it’s not…
Bloated limbs, dull faces, not much different than corpses—
The Barge…
It was all too much. What little strength Kaz had to shuffle himself along snuffed out, and he went limp in their arms.
Shouting, kicking, hoisting him back up. Throwing him on a table. Blinding lights after being in the dark for too long. Kaz’s eyes blinked open, and he was on a stage. The audience was empty, the curtains were moth-eaten, and all the chairs were covered in a film of dust. The stage was still set for a scene: a lair with surgeon’s tools and medical equipment. Kaz pieced together the information in the span of a moment. He was on Eil Komedie. His addled mind flooded with relief. Van Eck hadn’t taken him far from Ketterdam at all. If he could get out of this building, he knew how to get home.
Home. What a sentimental word for such an unsentimental circumstance. Inej would be so proud.
Kaz began to sit up, but his hands and legs were strapped to the table. He didn’t remember the guards doing that. Kaz cursed his own body. This is when I need you most, Kaz thought, and you go and faint like a damsel when someone brushes your arm.
“Welcome, Mr. Brekker.”
Van Eck’s voice sounded from above Kaz’s head. Kaz strained to find Van Eck’s face.
“We apologize for the lax accommodations, but your stay with us was rather last-minute.”
“Small wonder you chose a theater, Van Eck.” Kaz’s stone-cold rasp was made colder by his parched throat. “You must feel comfortable among the clowns and the posers.”
Van Eck ignored his quip. “Are you afraid, Mr. Brekker?”
Dread crept into Kaz’s chest. Kaz shoved it away and flashed a Dirtyands grin. “Barrel bastards aren’t afraid of anything.”
“Don’t worry. We will find what you are afraid of soon.” Van Eck didn’t say this with triumph, or bravado, or malice. He said it like a fact. The sky is blue. The sun will rise. We will find what breaks you.
Van Eck nodded to one of the guards. As the guard took a prop from a nearby table, Kaz realized it wasn’t a prop at all. That mallet was real.
Kaz tampered down an animalistic panic. He’d been through worse. He’d been roughed up by the stadwatch, healed a shattered leg without help, and crawled his way out of the Ketterdam harbor. Pain was a signal, that was all. He could ignore it. He could best it.
“Let’s start with my son,” Van Eck began. “Where is he?”
“So, now you care about him.”
“I will not ask again. Where is Wylan?”
“Only Ghezen knows. Have you tried asking him?”
Van Eck nodded toward the guard. The mallet rose over Kaz’s bad leg. Kaz steeled himself. Pain’s only a signal, he repeated like a prayer. It’s just a signal. It’s just—
“Wait.”
The mallet froze in its decent, hovering mere inches above Kaz’s knee. Kaz bit the inside of his cheek to keep from flinching.
“He’s made it this far with a bad leg. Start with his fingers.”
Kaz’s body went cold. Van Eck must have noticed Kaz’s fear, because he reached for Kaz’s gloves before the guard could follow the order. Kaz tightened his hands into fists, yanked against the constraints, but the guard with the mallet was holding him down now, and the guard’s breath was in his face, and the panic was winning, and the guard’s bare fingers found the edge of Kaz’s collar, and his hands were touching Kaz’s neck, and Kaz’s whole body locked up, like his bad leg in the wintertime, and he was frozen in those memories, of the ice cold water lapping against the corpses…
“…odd reaction, Mr. Brekker.”
Van Eck was speaking again, but Kaz hadn’t caught all that he’d said. Had he fainted again? How long had he’d been on the Barge?
The cool air of the theater met his bare fingers. His gloves were gone. Van Eck held them, like the skin of some dead animal, and tossed them on the table with the surgical instruments. He began taking off his own crisp, white mercher’s gloves. Kaz swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.
With cool, detached curiosity, like a scientist performing a study, Van Eck grabbed Kaz’s hand. Before Kaz could stop it, his whole body shuddered. Van Eck dropped his hand. Kaz went still. He picked it up. Kaz shuddered again. Van Eck grinned.
“I always wondered what those gloves were for. Thank you, Mr. Brekker. You’ve just made this much easier than it could have been.”
You traitor, Kaz wanted to scream at his own body. You fucking traitor. He was going to go mad. Kaz’s mind, the machine that got him off the Barrel streets, up the chain of command in the Dregs, and out of the clutches of Ice Court, was going to die on this table. Van Eck was going to flay it open like a dissected frog. He was going to squeeze it like pulp from rotting fruit. He was going to break it, bit by bit, and Kaz could only blame himself for being so weak.
Van Eck’s bare hand took Kaz’s again. “Where is my son?”
Kaz gagged. The water lapped around the edges of the operating table.
Van Eck shoved Kaz’s sleeve up his arm, exposing more bare skin. Van Eck latched onto those patches like a leech. “Where in the city? Which safe house?”
Kaz’s heart wanted out, out, out of his chest, and his breath came in short, violent bursts. Black dots danced at the edges of his vision. Please, let me pass out, Kaz begged his body. You’ve been shit at your job so far. Just let go.
Before Kaz could dip into that blissful black, Van Eck released his grip. Kaz was drenched in sweat. He couldn’t get his body to stop shaking, dammit, like the water-logged Barrel rat he was.
“Last chance, Mr. Brekker.”
Kaz’s chest heaved as he said, “you will die a broken man, Van Eck. I won’t just kill you. I’ll destroy everything around you and force you to watch. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg me to end it.”
“Hold him,” Van Eck told the guard dispassionately. The guard’s hands were back at Kaz’s shoulders, and Van Eck’s fingers reached for the buttons and plackets of Kaz’s shirt.
To hell with staving his panic. Kaz bucked against the constraints with all his might, shaking and kicking and making Van Eck’s job as hard as it could be. After the top button was done, the guard grabbed Kaz by his collarbone, skin against skin, but that didn’t matter, nothing fucking matters, Kaz snapped and groaned like the animal his fear wanted him to be.
Kaz wasn’t sure how long he lasted. One bell? Two? It was a blur of horror and nausea and dipping in and out of consciousness. He didn’t think he broke. He didn’t recall telling Van Eck anything. If he had caved in, Van Eck would have stopped. But Van Eck didn’t. Even if Kaz wanted to spill every Barrel secret he had and sell his entire gang down the river, he couldn’t make his mouth move if he tried. He couldn’t comprehend what Van Eck was saying, either. His mind eroded fast. Thoughts dissolved into base emotions and reality dissolved into base sensations, until there was only touch, touch, touch, and rage, rage, rage.
Kaz wasn’t on the table anymore. He was thrashing underwater, choking on salt and the marbled fat of corpses. The faces of the guard and Van Eck ripped and stretched from Kaz’s view under the waves, until a dark shadow joined their company. Kaz’s lungs burned with sea water, but they still seized when the shadow bled into a familiar shape.
When Kaz unspooled, Jordie was there to watch.
Inej hadn’t slept since Vellgeluk. But tonight, it finally paid off.
The moment Van Eck sailed away from the island, Inej knew she would tail him. She was familiar with the pride of men like Van Eck. No matter how decent a mercher was, they could never resist the temptation to gloat when they walked away a winner from the Exchange. He couldn’t stay away from Kaz forever. He’d want to make sure Kaz knew just how sorely he’d lost.
Besides, Inej couldn’t sleep, even if she wanted to. Every second that passed since she watched Kaz go limp in that Squaller’s arms was a reminder that this all was her fault. If she had kept her eyes forward, if she had called Van Eck on his bluff, none of this would have happened. So, it was her responsibility to fix this mess.
If it had been the other way around, Kaz would have created a detailed plan, and a backup plan, and a backup for the backup plan. It would have been a masterpiece of moves and countermoves, actions that dominoed into the perfect reaction at the perfect time. He would have beckoned greed to do his will, and if that didn’t work, he would have beckoned fear. He would have found enough leverage for Van Eck to give Inej back, along with several thousand kruge’s worth of stocks and bonds. But she was not Kaz. Her plan consisted of three steps: find him, free him, and raze his prison to the ground. And the first step was almost complete.
The fog hung low on the harbor, giving them just enough cover to tail Van Eck’s boat without a Squaller. Matthias sat in the back, hunched and rowing so carefully, the oars pierced the water without a sound. Wylan—or was that Kuwei?—no, it was Wylan, because he was rifling through his bag, inspecting the explosives and chemicals he had brought for Kaz’s liberation. Kuwei was huddled by the bow, keeping watch over the desolate waters. Nina kept watch in the other direction; her eyes were shadowed by dark circles from her fight against parem, but they were still keen and alert. Jesper’s hands darted to and fro across his lap, un-loading and re-loading his revolvers, itching for a fight.
Van Eck docked his ship. Inej recognized the island. She signaled Matthias to change course to Eil Komedie.
As their boat ran ashore, the crew ran over the plan once more. Kuwei and Matthias would stay on the ship and be ready for the getaway. Wylan, Nina, and Jesper would follow Inej to the entrance. They’d catch Van Eck as he was leaving. Jesper would hold him hostage with a revolver to his head. They’d force Van Eck to take them to Kaz. Nina and Inej would take care of any guards. And Wylan would destroy what was left. The last part wasn’t strictly necessary, but it gave Inej a petty sort of peace to imagine anything belonging to Van Eck in flames.
They waited for one bell. Then two. As they crept toward the third, Inej felt their meager plan fall apart in her hands. What if this was a trap? What if Van Eck used a different exit, and left on a different boat? Or worse of all: what if he was in there torturing Kaz right this second, and Kaz’s only rescue was wasting precious time twiddling their thumbs outside?
“I can’t wait any longer.” Inej stood. “I’m going in.”
Wylan looked up in alarm. “What about the plan?”
“I’ve got a better one. Let’s find Kaz and get out of here.”
“If you get caught, my father—”
“We made it out of the Ice Court. We can manage Eil Komedie.” Inej stepped off the boat, her boots crunching along the black-sanded shore. “Our roles are the same. We just work the plan without holding Van Eck hostage.”
Jesper jumped up. “I vote for the new plan. Beats sitting around waiting for something to happen.”
“Well, I vote for the old plan,” Kuwei muttered.
“It’s not up to vote,” Matthias said. “Inej is our leader. We follow her orders.”
Inej sent a grateful glance toward Matthias, then trudged ahead. “Don’t worry. It will be simple. Fast. Discreet.”
It was neither simple, fast, nor discreet. Nina was unable to heartrend the first pair of guards they came across, so Inej took care of them the bloody way. The next time they were caught, the group of guards was too big for a melee fight. Wylan resorted to a flash bomb, and the whole island knew they were there.
“What do we do?” Jesper asked, jogging to keep up with Inej, Nina, and Wylan. “Where do we look?”
Inej didn’t have an answer. She had thought (naively, in hindsight,) that she’d be drawn to Kaz somehow, that there was an inward compass calibrated to his soul, and it would lead her to him. Right now, there was only stillness. She didn’t want to think about what that meant.
Inej turned to Nina and jutted her chin toward the foyer. “How many heartbeats?”
Nina wrung her hands. “Not sure. Since we left Fjerda, things have been… well…”
Right. The parem. Inej wanted to scream. Kaz was the planner, the schemer, the strategist. But hadn’t she learned anything being by his side for the past few years?
“Wait,” Jesper interrupted. He squinted towards the auditorium. “No. It can’t be that easy.”
Inej turned. “What is it?”
“There are lights on in there.”
“Who’s inside?”
Jesper drew closer and peered through the crack in the doors. “Can’t tell,” he whispered. “The stage is too far away.”
Inej’s eyes darted around the foyer, scanning for a way closer without barging in. She caught a vent in the ceiling. It was tiny—she wasn’t even sure if she could fit—but it was a start.
“Jesper, give me a boost.”
Saints, it was a tight fit. Her hip bones pressed uncomfortably against the metal walls, and she had to hunch her shoulders to worm her way through. But she crawled nonetheless, trusting her gut for a sense of direction instead of her head. Soon, she made a turn, and bright slits of light shined from a grate beneath her fingers. She peered down. She was directly above the stage, looking at a surgeon’s set with a table of tools, an operating table, and—
Kaz.
She scanned his body for blood stains. When she found none, she took a shaky breath. But even though he wasn’t visibly injured, she knew something was invisibly wrong. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his pale, scarred chest as it fluttered up and down too fast. His dark eyes stared at nothing, and his lips moved without making sound, as if he was lifting up a silent prayer. Inej checked the stage for Van Eck, but she saw only a few guards standing idly in the wings. The Kaz Inej knew would have found a way out of his bounds with his lock pick fingers and taken down the guards by now. He wouldn’t have given up so quickly.
What did Van Eck do?
The question haunted her as she crawled back down to the foyer. It haunted her as Wylan handed them all gas masks, and as he handed her the knockout gas canister. It haunted her during her trip back up the vent, when she opened the grate and dropped the bomb, as the stage exploded into a haze of green, as cries of alarm softened into thumps against the floor. It haunted her as Kaz’s face remained pale and distant as the clouds formed, the only sign his body registered the drug being the droop of his eyes. It haunted her as they carried an unconscious Kaz away without a fight, with Van Eck nowhere to be found.
As they rowed back to the Ketterdam harbor, Inej inspected Kaz closer. His hair was damp with sweat. His pulse was steady and slow. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the waves lapping against the boat. She checked for stitches, new scars, injection sites, anything. But she found nothing; just cracked lips from thirst and some light bruising. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have guessed he’d fallen asleep at his desk again, or was taking his sleeping shift on one of their stakeouts.
Kaz stirred. He groaned and blinked groggily, his eyes still cloudy with medicated sleep.
“Kaz? Can you hear me?”
His face flickered with the recognition of his name.
“You’re safe,” Inej began. “We—”
Before she could continue, Kaz was moving, trying to sit himself up. Inej had never seen him drunk, but she guessed that if she had, this is what he would have been like: stubborn and unsteady. He slurred something under his breath. His head tipped forward. He blinked away more sleep, and as his dark eyes drank in the boat and the sea, his face turned stark white.
“Woah,” Jesper started, grabbing Kaz’s shoulders before he could topple off the side of the boat. “Steady, boss. How concentrated did you make that knockout gas, Wylan?”
Kaz stared at Jesper’s hands. Something dangerous snapped in his eyes. Inej knew that look. It meant Kaz hadn’t woken up yet.
They were dealing with Dirtyhands.
“Jesper,” Inej said calmly. The entire boat was taught with tension. “You should let—”
Kaz lunged. Between one blink and the next, Kaz was on top of Jesper, slamming his frame into the hull, his hands crushing Jesper’s throat.
“Nina!” Inej called out, trying to keep her balance as the boat shook from the force of their fight.
“Trying!” Nina called back, her hands already in formation. But Kaz did not drop. Nina’s face betrayed her panic.
“Kaz,” Jesper croaked, “What—”
“Leave me alone, Jordie,” Kaz snarled.
“Who’s—”
Kaz squeezed harder. Jesper’s skin turned gray. Before Inej could intervene, Wylan surged forward and wrapped an arm around Kaz’s midsection. Kaz released Jesper and tried to turn around, but before he could, Wylan jammed a syringe into the side of Kaz’s neck. Kaz continued to fight, his movements growing sluggish, until his eyes rolled and his head dipped back, exposing his pale throat to the sky.
“There.” Wylan set Kaz gently down on the hull. “That should keep him under for at least a bell.”
The entire boat sagged with relief. Jesper rose, coughing and spitting, his hands flying to the bruises blooming on his neck. Nina and Matthias exchanged a worried glance, and Kuwei looked on with unhidden horror. As Inej approached Kaz’s limp frame, her whole body shook with the action she did not take during those short, crucial moments.
She had never seen Kaz like that. Even at his cruelest, Kaz was controlled and precise. He was never reckless and beastly. The image of this unhinged doppelgänger attacking Jesper burned into her brain: his bared teeth, his bare hands—
His bare hands.
That was the only strange detail of Kaz’s imprisonment. His gloves had been taken. His shirt had been ripped open. Pieces of the past flew forward unbidden. Kaz fainting in the prison cart. Kaz’s high collars and leathered fingers. Kaz pulling away whenever she drew too near. Those moments weren’t kindling for the pyre of the Dirtyhands myth. They were the residue of nightmares.
Barrel boys don’t have parents.
Pekka Rollins killed my brother.
There was a crucial part missing, a lost story that would weave the torn tapestry together. Inej had heard reports of the island plague that hit a few years before she was brought to Ketterdam—was that how Kaz lost his family? If so, what did Pekka Rollins have to do with it? What did Kaz witness as a boy that induced such a violent reaction to touch?
How will you have me? Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?
She remembered his reaction to those words: the tight shoulders, the stony face, the sharp dismissal of her hand. She felt sick. She felt awful and selfish and cruel.
Kaz dozed on, unaware of the damage he’d just wrought, his face as blank and serene as a saint’s. Inej wondered if this was the most peaceful sleep he’d ever had: drugged into oblivion. She studied him, as she had thousands of times before, but tonight, the jagged corners of his bones didn’t seem sharp anymore.
They seemed brittle.
Jesper was still awake, but he didn’t want to be. If he were asleep, he wouldn’t have to notice how much it hurt to breathe and swallow. Also, if he were asleep, he’d catch a break from their disaster of a rescue.
Back on Black Veil Island, they set Kaz up in one of the mausoleums while he slept off Wylan’s drug, and Nina had tended to Jesper’s bruises the traditional way. Everyone else was too quiet, too tense, too eager to find something to do. Jesper just wanted to talk about what had happened and get it over with. Unfortunately, talking hurt, so he kept his mouth shut.
As soon as Nina left to make a makeshift cooling press for Jesper’s neck, he slid off to the mausoleum Kaz was sleeping in. Inej kept vigil outside, perched against a statue of an angel. Her eyes stayed trained on the door, as if it would disappear if she looked away.
Jesper leaned against a nearby tombstone, fumbling with the leather gloves in his pocket. When they had rescued Kaz, he had spotted them on the creepy surgeon’s instrument table, and had felt an unnatural urge to take them. The gloves weren’t special—just regular, black, unassuming ones—but it was odd seeing Kaz without them. It was like a sunny rainstorm back in Novyi Zem, or a quiet day in the Barrel in Ketterdam. It was strange, unearthly, almost wrong.
Jesper cleared his throat. “What business?”
Inej turned, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Ah. Didn’t you hear?” His voice sounded awful—it was halfway between a growl and a croak. “I’m working on my Kaz impression.”
Inej exhaled sharply through her nose. It wasn’t a full laugh, but it was proof that he lightened the mood, even if it was just a little bit.
“Does it hurt?” Inej asked.
“Not too bad,” Jesper lied. It hurt like a bitch. But if Jesper were being honest, the mental shock of Kaz’s attack hurt more than the actual bruising. Not too long ago, Jesper had dreamed of Kaz wrapping his bare hands around his neck—under vastly different circumstances, of course. Jesper knew it would never happen, and he also knew that he’d been deserving of Kaz’s wrath every now and then. Kaz could be cruel, but most of the time, Jesper had earned that cruelty fair and square with his big mouth and stupid choices. But the attack on the boat hadn’t been a grudge taken too far, or a bout of lost temper. Kaz had wanted Jesper dead. He had wanted Jesper gone. At least, that’s what Kaz had wanted for Jordie, whoever that poor guy was.
“How’s he doing?” Jesper asked, just to stop his mind from racing.
Inej turned back to the mausoleum. “Not sure. I haven’t gone in yet. Don’t want to disturb him.”
Jesper knew what that was code for: I don’t know what I’ll find inside. Inej knew that Jesper knew. They refused to acknowledge those facts out loud.
Inej sighed. “During the trip back from Eil Komedie, I kept thinking to myself, it can’t be this simple. It was too convenient. Too easy.”
“Do you think Van Eck wanted us to take him?” Jesper’s mind flew from conspiracy to conspiracy, all ranging from hypnosis to Grisha mind control. Did Van Eck plant something in Kaz’s head that would make him turn on his crew?
“I think…” Inej swallowed hard. “Van Eck assumed there was nothing left for us to take.”
At that, a thought far worse than mind control revealed itself. Had Van Eck tortured Kaz so thoroughly, there was no Kaz anymore? Had he turned the Barrel’s most fearsome criminal, leader, and strategist to a raving madman? It seemed impossible. Van Eck and his men only had him for a short amount of time, and even if it had been centuries, Jesper couldn’t imagine Kaz doing anything else besides scowling and asking if that was all they got. Kaz was a fortress. A mountain. The only unbreakable lock. Saints know Jesper had spent years trying to find the cracks in Kaz’s stone-cold facade. They simply weren't there.
The bruises on Jesper’s neck throbbed. But if Kaz didn’t crack, then why…
The mausoleum door swung open. Jesper jumped. Kaz was in the doorway, adjusting his freshly knotted tie. Where the hell did he get a tie?
“Kaz?” Inej asked. Her voice sounded too high.
Kaz looked up. His eyes were clear, steady, present. “Inej. Have you seen my cane?”
Jesper blinked. Two seconds ago, he was thinking about mind control and madness. Now, Kaz was here, displaying none of those things. He was still too pale, and his voice sounded even worse than usual, but he wasn’t presently crushing Jesper’s windpipe. Jesper took that as a good sign.
When neither of them spoke, Kaz rolled his eyes. “Never mind. I’ll find it myself.”
Kaz stepped out of the mausoleum, ready to move past them. Before he could, Inej stepped in front of his path. “Hold on, Kaz. How do you feel?”
Kaz raised an eyebrow. “Behind schedule. If we are going to take down Van Eck and get our kruge, we need—”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Inej said. “I mean, we just… you were… what do you remember?”
Kaz’s expression did not change. If Jesper hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Kaz had a genuine case of amnesia, or the rest of the crew had mass hallucinated the boat trip back to Ketterdam. Jesper would have never called Kaz’s bluff, if Kaz’s gaze hadn’t darted to Jesper’s neck before settling back on Inej. But it did.
“I was kidnapped by Van Eck for the second time,” Kaz said, working his jaw. “He tried to break me, but it didn’t work. Then you all staged a rescue. Saints know why. If I had been in your shoes, I would have taken whatever kruge was in that chest and ran.” Inej scoffed, but Kaz ignored her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
This time, Jesper stepped forward to block Kaz. “A 'thank you' would be nice.”
Jesper held eye contact, daring Kaz to ignore his broken voice, his bruised throat. But that’s exactly what Kaz did.
“Thank you, then,” Kaz said dryly. "Am I allowed to go? Or are you two still playing nurse?”
“Cut the bullshit, Kaz.” Kaz’s eyes widened at Jesper’s frankness, but Jesper kept going. “You and I both know what happened on the ride here. And for the safety of everyone on this crew, you need to tell us how Van Eck got to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about."
“You attacked. You weren’t in control of yourself. Tell us what happened on Eil Komedie.”
Kaz’s eyes refused to dip below Jesper’s chin. “I already told you, Van Eck didn’t break me.”
“I’m telling you he did.”
“Are you calling me weak, Jesper?”
“What Jesper is trying to say,” Inej interjected, desperate to maintain peace, “is that knowing what happened might help us prevent another episode in the future.”
Kaz turned on Inej now. “Episode? I don’t belong in a madhouse, Inej. Really, I think it's the other way around.”
“Tell me how Van Eck got to you, or I’m walking,” Jesper threatened. “I’ll walk from this job, from the Dregs, everything.”
“Thanks for the favor, Jesper,” Kaz replied. “With you gone, we won’t have to worry about any more leaks.”
Jesper’s temper mounted at that last jab. “You really don’t remember choking me out? Well, maybe you need a reminder.”
Jesper shoved Kaz into the mausoleum. Kaz shoved Jesper back. In a blur of anger, Jesper found himself inside, rolling on the stone floor, Inej’s frantic voice somewhere above them. See how he likes it, Jesper thought as he put his hands on Kaz’s throat. But before he could squeeze, Jesper felt an unexpected sensation under his fingers.
Kaz was shaking.
Jesper loosened his grip. Kaz scrambled back, but instead of clocking Jesper in the jaw, he created as much distance between the two of them as he could. Kaz hoisted himself up to his hands and knees, and… was he dry-heaving?
Saints, what the hell was Jesper doing? What kind of person starts a fight with a friend who was just kidnapped, starved, tortured?
“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, like a reflex. “I’m so sorry—”
“I don’t want pity,” Kaz nearly shouted. “I want my kruge. I want Van Eck destroyed. I want…”
Kaz was sweating. His chest heaved the stale mausoleum air in and out, like he was drowning in it. “I want off this Saintsforsaken island. Too much death. Too much rot.”
To Jesper, that last bit felt off-topic. Then, like a bullet from one of his revolvers, memories and connections shot forth in a single epiphany. Kaz fumbling with the lock picks at the prison cart. Kaz breaking that man’s arm in the Ice Court cell, the one who had gotten too close. Kaz glaring daggers at Jesper over the years when he’d slapped him on the back in celebration, or tapped him to get his attention.
“It’s touch, isn’t it?”
Jesper didn’t realize he had said it out loud until it was too late. Kaz froze. Then, look on Kaz’s face was so cruel and nasty and so very Dirtyhands, Jesper knew that he had struck true.
Kaz took a breath. Before Kaz could launch into another volley of verbal attacks, Jesper fished out the gloves from his pocket and held them out. It was an olive branch, a parley, an apology. Kaz stopped. For the first time since he’d woken up, Kaz let his eyes rest on Jesper’s bruises.
Kaz snatched his gloves away and shoved them on. Jesper took that as a sign to keep going. He cleared his throat and made a careful attempt to maintain the new peace. “Have any family buried here?”
Kaz flexed his freshly-gloved fingers, distracted. “We weren’t rich enough for graves. They threw us on the—”
Kaz seemed to realize his slip at the same moment Jesper and Inej did. We. Us. Kaz was included in that statement. That meant…
Saints, Kaz, Jesper thought. The Reaper’s Barge?
The air was thick with silent horror. Inej was wise enough to break it before it choked them all. “And it was Pekka’s fault?”
Kaz nodded. His body was tense, like it couldn’t decide between starting a fight or collapsing in on itself.
Inej’s expression hardened. “Then we don’t just destroy him. We bring complete and utter devastation. And if that starts with getting our kruge from Van Eck, well…”
Kaz looked at Inej. Then Jesper. Then Inej again. There was an unspoken promise hovering between them, softening the raw edges and spooling the unwoven thread. This is not the time to heal. We’ll mend after we maim. We’ll find peace after we find justice. We’ll come back to this. But until Pekka and Van Eck are gone, this secret stays in the mausoleum.
Kaz stood. He tidied his hair, re-straightened his tie, and made toward the door. Before he pushed it open, he paused. “How’s your neck, Jesper?”
Jesper let out a breathy laugh. “It hurts. But at least now I know why I got it.”
There was the barest bit of regret—and was that sorrow?—in Kaz’s expression. “I know another healer in the Barrel. He owes me a favor.”
It was the closest thing to an apology Jesper would get, but he’d take it.
“Those bruises are conspicuous as hell. Can’t ruin our cover by being too out of place.”
And there was the Kaz Jesper knew and loved.
Jesper grinned. “I don’t know. I prefer sounding like you. Maybe Nina could tailor me, too? How would you like to be in two places at once, Kaz?”
Kaz snickered. Jesper spied the barest grin on Kaz’s face. “Not a bad idea. We’d ruin the lives of Pekka and Van Eck twice as fast.”
Kaz pushed open the door. His crows followed. But as Kaz and Inej started their trip to the rest of the group, Jesper lingered behind, making sure to seal the mausoleum door shut before heading off.
There were some undead things that needed to remain hidden for a long while yet.