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Kaz didn’t think he’d be seeing Inej for the second time in a week, but he convinced himself that he had a good excuse to see those hazel eyes once again. Ketterdam, raining most of the time and cloudy every other day, was gifted with the sun shining down on its roads, the streets glistening like diamonds on the ground. The Dregs side-eyed him as he left on his horse, but they knew better than to question where Kaz Brekker was going.
Kaz knew the way to the Suli shrine blindfolded. But he told himself it was because of his fantastic memory, rather than the fact he found every single shortcut after his first meeting with her. But as he drew closer to the decrepit town, he became more unsure of his subsequent visit. It had only been a few days. He stopped his horse on the outskirts of the town and grabbed his cane, hobbling towards where the angel lived.
He knocked on the doors and waited. A part of him wanted Inej to be absent so he could turn back and be done with these raging insecurities, but he couldn’t help the way his heart kicked up when he heard a soft “come in.”
Pushing through the doors, he was met with Inej’s curious eyes, and he noticed her hands in her hair, in a makeshift ponytail. Kaz swiped his eyes over her bare arms and the way her neck curved into her lithe shoulders, dipping into her wings. She wore a white gown which hung from a strap around her neck and the ends brushed the floor. She looked majestic. He locked that image deep into himself, and it warmed his chest on the way down. “Hello,” he said a little stupidly, mesmerised at how Inej ran her fingers through her hair.
He was reminded of the ache he felt when he saw Inej for the first time, and how much he wanted to feel each strand of her hair and whisper all of his secrets––he felt too safe with her.
After Inej had finished tying her hair with soft gold fabric, she returned the greeting. “Hello Kaz, what brings you here so soon?”
Kaz was snapped out of his stupor and looked conflicted. Inej thought he looked like a boy of nineteen, unsure of his place in the world. With his mouth set in a firm line, looking like a man at the gallows, Kaz said, “The Suli have come to Kerch and I was wondering if you would like to go to see them.”
Inej’s faced slipped from curiosity to plain shock. It had Kaz’s resolve stumbling, “After all, you are a Suli angel, and I thought, being out here alone, you might miss your people,” he reasoned.
“You don’t have to go,” Kaz was fully on the defence, “There’s also a matter of your wings.”
Inej was still silent.
She stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted two arms, on his head, and was waving at her. He murmured, “Inej?”
Still shocked, she breathed, “I would love to go.”
Kaz tried to not let the relief show on his face. A small, wicked part of him enjoyed the fact that he was able to shock Inej. But Kaz was a professional with information. “And your wings?”
Inej shifted slightly, and her wings disappeared. There was still an air about her and she moved like silent water, but now she just looked like a regular, pretty Suli girl of nineteen. Inhumanely human. There was a grin on her face, and she glowed with anticipation. It was at that moment, Kaz knew he wasn’t going to survive around her, but a part of him didn’t care.
“Right,” he said, and gestured towards the door.
Kaz and Inej walked through the town, a comfortable silence between them. Inej was still smiling by the time they reached Kaz’s horse and Kaz paused again, readying himself. “It’s faster if we get there by horse,” he said, not looking at her.
Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips twitched downwards into a frown, “Would it be ok? I would have to touch-”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted, “It’s a short ride. If you’re comfortable.”
Inej nodded, but was cautious of the way she positioned herself behind Kaz. When she wrapped her arms around his torso, careful not to have her bare arms brush any part of his skin, she felt him tense and his breathing hitch. A wave of regret and concern washed over her, and she was about to let go, but the horse lurched forward into a trot and she found herself gripping her wrists tighter.
The ride was awkward, with Kaz trying not to have a heart attack and Inej not quite believing she was going to see a Suli carnival, but they both relaxed when they caught the scent of spices in the air. Kaz was glad for the distraction. After the spices, voices and laughter filtered into the warm air, and Inej felt her heart soar higher than she ever flew.
Kaz stopped the horse at a tree on the outskirts of the Suli carnival and tried to not let his hands tremble when he held Inej’s hand to let her down.
He tied the horse to a tree, and led Inej to the entrance of the carnival. Kaz heard a small intake of breath behind him and he turned around––the strings of small lights scattered around the air reflected off her face, and her deep brown skin shone in response. Her lips were parted and Kaz let himself trace every curve and dip and tremble, and he wondered how soft they were. How gentle and kind they would feel on his untouched fingertips. Inej’s coffee-black eyes looked like they had the rarest diamonds embedded into them. Kaz wanted to steal them away.
And then she looked at him.
Kaz felt his breath hitch and his heart skipped a beat. He suddenly found a very interesting patch of grass.
It was just a glance, but it felt too long. It felt like an Inferni had just set Kaz’s insides on fire. It felt like a pain he’d be happy to bear. It felt like fear. “You still don’t look human.”
As soon as those words left Kaz’s lips, he regretted it. He could’ve said anything else. The weather is nice. There are too many children. Literally anything else. Inej’s eyebrow raised in amusement. “Just don’t make a spectacle out of yourself,” he said, impatient, “there are already too many people here, we don’t need attention on us.”
“As you wish, Kaz.”
Ghezen. It felt like firecrackers had gone off on his tongue. He was desperate to change the topic, “Is there anything you wish to see?”
Inej looked around the carnival once again, her eyes calculatory. She paused at a tent with fabric so blue, it looked black in the sunlight, and the edges was embroidered with swirls of gold. It almost looked royal. The Jackals House.
“That’s the Jackals House,” he explained to her questioning stare, “I’ve heard Suli seers are very rare. Apparently they’re able to see into your fate.”
“I don’t see myself with much of a future,” Inej said, resigned.
“Do angels not retain memories of their past lives?”
Inej shook her head, “All I’ve ever known was wandering the world. Staying hidden. My wings. Flying. We simply guard and inform, we cannot mess with the natural course of humanity. You were a curiosity and luxury, Kaz.” He almost felt touched.
“I suppose that’s enough.”
“Don’t settle, Inej.”
She looked up, shocked. “If you roam, roam wildly. There may be no good men in Ketterdam but you are no man nor human. See the world as if you’re seeing it for the first time. You live amongst the good, but the bad make it interesting. Don’t make the world your prison. It is what you make of it. Become someone you want to be.”
“Ironic, coming from a thief,” but Inej had a soft smile on her face, she had taken the words to heart. This angel was trying to wring every bit of decency from him.
“I am a businessman.”
“There doesn’t seem to be a difference for you,” she teased.
Kaz’s lips quirked, “I suppose not.”
She looked towards the Jackals house again. “Shall we see to your fate too?”
Even though Inej didn’t say it, she was curious to know the fate of this fallen man. What the world would offer him, and what it would take away. Instead, Kaz shook his head. “I’d never lay down good coin to be told my future by anyone—fraud or holy man.”
Inej frowned, albeit disappointed. “Fair enough.”
Kaz dipped his head as if to say go on. And she did. Pushing back the velvet entrance, she dipped her body into the tent and let her lungs be filled with different scents. Incense was burning underneath a painting of a Jackal, and lavender roamed the air. There was a sharp hint of Suli spice and smoke. Different accessories hung in the air, ranging from gold to silver to copper. Pictures of the moon, the sun, and angels were scattered across the walls. To Kaz, it looked like the night sky. To Inej, it felt like coming home.
“Welcome,” a low, seductive voice caught both Kaz and Inej’s attention.
“Hello,” Inej replied, and she shifted her shoulders back. Kaz wondered if she was afraid the Suli seer could see her wings.
“Please, take a seat.” The Jackals voice felt like an anvil on his chest. It seemed otherworldly. Just mind tricks, he told himself, everyone needs profit. The red lacquered Jackal’s mask and orange Suli silk grabbed at the delicate candle’s light in the tent. Kaz shook his head at the detail and ingenuity of the clothing. It looked like fire. The cheap imitations in The Barrel could never compare. The pillows were soft and plush to the touch but Kaz was glad for a moment’s rest on his bad leg.
“For the girl?” The Jackal asked.
“Yes,” Inej said.
“Only her,” Kaz added.
He could feel Inej giving him a side glance, but ignored it. The Jackal nodded and asked for her hands. Inej placed her hands in theirs and the Jackal recited a Suli prayer. Inej closed her eyes and recited with them. The interaction felt too intimate to look at. Kaz looked back once he noticed the Jackal had placed a coffee pot on the table. Kaz almost felt tempted to ask for some. The Jackal poured some coffee in a cup and asked Inej to drink. Even though Kaz wouldn’t ask anyone to tell his fortune, he was curious.
Inej passed the cup back to the Suli seer and waited as they examined the cup. They frowned. Kaz spared a glance at Inej. He could tell there were a thousand different thoughts running through her head, but one stuck out on her face. Is there something wrong with my fate line? The Jackal murmured, “I do not see a future, nor your lines of fate.”
Kaz felt Inej tense beside him. And somehow, he felt himself grip his cane a bit tighter than normal. As if he was worried for her.
“I only see a past.”
“My past,” Inej whispered.
The Jackal started to smile. “You had wings.”
Inej froze. So did Kaz. “You were one of us,” they said, “Your lines of fate were simply lines of rope. You would walk on those lines as surely you walked on the ground. The air was your home and clouds your family. Applause and talent rushed through your veins. A born performer.”
“The air was my home,” Inej repeated, distant. Of course, Kaz thought, of course she’d be a girl of the skies.
The Jackal nodded. “I suppose it still is,” they winked.
Inej gave an awkward smile. “Is there anything else?”
The Jackal looked at the coffee cup again. “I see one more line, but it does not pertain to your past.”
Inej cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“Fate has plans for us all, but it depends on the choices we make. One line diverges into the sky. One into the ground. There will be a time where you choose your line. And it will be your choice.”
Fortune tellers are so vague you might as well be talking to a cloud of smoke, Kaz thought.
“I see,” Inej murmured, and glanced at Kaz. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Inej looked away and declared, “We should be on our way.”
The Jackal smiled once again and gestured to the door. “This one is on the house, deva.”
Inej’s eyes widened. She dipped her head in thanks, and hurried to the exit. Kaz dipped his head and took his time. “Deva? What does that mean?”
Inej looked away, “It means heavenly being.”
Kaz paused. “I see.” Maybe he’d underestimated the Suli seers. Perhaps he’d see one next time. Maybe they’d perform an exorcism instead.
“But I was right,” Kaz said with a small smile, “The world will be what you make of it.”
Inej gave a wry smile. “So it seems. Maybe you should try a hand at being a seer.”
“I make gambles on people’s lives all the time Inej,” Kaz Brekker at your door was never good.
Inej gave Kaz a pointed look as if to remind him that he was talking to an angel. Instead, Kaz said, “Coffee.”
Inej gave a small sigh but followed Kaz to a nearby booth. He saw Inej staring at the small dumplings in the display. He wondered if angels were able to feel hunger. As the man prepared Kaz’s coffee, he asked for a small bag of the dumplings. Momos they were called. The man handed Kaz his coffee and he passed the dumplings to Inej. She looked up in part-surprise and part-embarrassment at having been caught, but Kaz was looking away, handing kruge to the kindly man. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Kaz ignored her and walked towards the open field. Inej followed, happy and protective of her small bag of treasure. Kaz could feel the joy radiating out of her. He tried to repress the crack of warmth her humming created in his heart. The sun was setting, but the main part of the Suli carnival was yet to begin. The finale was always the Suli people themselves, showing off their talents and leaving the crowd breathless.
Much like what Inej unknowingly did to Kaz.
They found spots near the front and readied themselves for the show. Inej had asked what this was, but Kaz just told her to sit and watch. He remembered the first time he saw Suli acrobats. His mother and father were still alive, as was Jordie. The thrill and excitement from the show left such a lasting impression on him, he declared he’d become an acrobat too. He remembered how he cried when Jordie laughed at him, or the time he fell off a makeshift tightrope placed embarrassingly close to the ground. But that was another time, another life.
This wasn’t for him anymore. This was for Inej.
Inej was still munching on the dumplings as the sun set. She offered Kaz one, and he took it. He was famished from trying not to become more of an idiot in front of Inej, and Suli dishes were always something to behold. The spicy, tangy sauce the man had given him made his mouth water. He was gulping down his coffee when Inej asked to no-one in particular, “Walking on lines? I wonder what they meant.”
She was still thinking about what the Jackal had said. And then Kaz realised that Inej didn’t know who a tightrope walker was. Or couldn’t remember. Checking his watch, he saw that the show was about to start.
All he said was, “You’ll see.”
A slight Suli boy came to the middle of the field and raised both his palms. Torches placed around the field lit up and created a ring of fire. The crowd applauded for the beginning of the show. Inferni. Grisha weren’t always weapons, and Kaz was actually amazed at the things they could do. Though Zoya Nazyalensky would only hear a compliment from him over his dead body. That woman, Kaz shook his head. Another story.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Suli carnival! It is a pleasure for me to introduce the acts tonight. Remember, take a deep breath, because by the end, we will render you breathless.”
The man in the ring had a large and booming voice. He was big and hearty, and had a face which looked like he smiled a lot. The woman beside him was like a matching puzzle piece. Kaz saw that she had a wild geranium perched on her ear. They had crows feet but that added to their homely beauty. Their deep brown skin matched Inej’s but was aged from years of travelling. It contrasted beautifully with the Suli silk they donned. Their eyes twinkled like mischievous children. And even though it had been over a decade, Kaz recognised them from his first Suli show. Perhaps tonight he could let magic overtake him once again.
“You may call me Papa,” he laughed, “You may call my wife the-most-beautiful-stunning-lovely-intelligent-strong-woman, but I understand if that’s hard to remember.”
The crowd laughed with the two ringleaders. She jokingly glared at Papa, but couldn’t stop her smile. “Call me Mama,” and they both bowed. The crowd cheered and clapped.
“For the first act, we have our two hummingbirds. Watch as they swoop through the air, but careful to not fall off your seat!”
Kaz felt Inej shift closer to the edge of her seat. He tried not to laugh at her excitement. The trapeze artists were so high up Kaz wondered if he would be a witness to two accidents tonight. Once they reached the top, they bowed in harmony. A drum beat started and they both grabbed the horizontal pole and let themselves fall off the platform. They swung back and forth as if they were on a playground swing. One of the hummingbirds let go of the pole, rolling through the air, and grabbed the other hummingbird’s legs. The crowd cheered in amazement and spilled applause. They swung for a while and returned to their platforms. They both jumped again, and spun around so their legs were hooked onto the pole and swung upside down. They grabbed each other, jumped, flipped, and flew as if they were two souls made in sync. The crowd ended up at the edge of their seats and Kaz’s hands hurt from clapping. In this moment, Inej and Kaz both felt like kids again. Swept up in the magic of it all.
Act after act, it was like Papa said, the audience was left breathless. They saw contortionists, and saw acrobats perform dance routines that had their body bending in amazing ways. Suli music rang in Kaz’s ears. Tidemakers drenched the audience and Inej clutched her stomach laughing at how Kaz looked like a drowned puppy. Inferni came out and dried the audience, but Kaz’s hair didn’t really turn back to normal. Fluffy, Inej had called it. He momentarily glanced at her in between the tricks to savour the wonderment on her face. He could get drunk on it if he liked. But he didn’t catch how Inej looked at him too, and how she watched Kaz Rietveld come back to life.
The sky was pitch black and glittering with stars, and the torches were burning brighter than ever. The final act was about to happen.
“Ladies and gentlemen! I hope you still have enough wind in your lungs for this final act! We don’t have a Squaller in our ranks to help with that either,” the audience laughed, “It’s definitely a sight you do not want to miss!
Kaz suddenly felt as if his gloves were suffocating him. His palms were sweaty from the excitement and the humidity of the air wasn’t helping. He pulled at each finger and slipped them off, wondering when he felt safe enough to take them off in front of Inej. But there wasn’t time to mull over it. Papa boomed, “For our final act! We have our wire walker!” The crowd burst into enthusiastic cheers and applause.
“There is one thing you must remember. The heart is an arrow and it demands aim to land true. You must be decisive in each step of the way.”
Mama shook her head and laughed, “You take the romance out of everything.” But Kaz clearly saw the adoration in Papa’s eyes and caught a flash of another geranium in her costume sleeve.
“Now Mama, why don’t you tell us why our wire walker is so special?”
Mama brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, gifted wire walkers were descended from the People of the Air. They once had wings and in the right light, those wings could still be glimpsed on the humans to whom they showed favour.”
Mama’s tone drew in the crowd, enrapturing them with her words. She would make good coin as a storyteller. Kaz saw little children twisting this way and that, asking their parents if they saw any wings. He heard a little girl exclaim, “Look! I think that girl has wings!”
Kaz turned around and saw a little Ravkan girl pointing at Inej. The girl asked “Are you a Person of the Air?”
Kaz stared at Inej as she brought her face closer to the little girl and put a finger to her lips, “Shh,” she whispered conspiratorially, “Think you could keep a secret for me?”
The little girl giggled as Inej winked and Kaz couldn’t help but be amused. He turned around to see a small girl, who couldn’t be older than seventeen, climbing up the ladder to the wire that was basically invisible against the night sky. The audience murmured. There was no net. And the wire was placed higher than the trapeze artists had been. The wire was thinner than Kaz’s arms.
She reached the platform, straightened her back, and lifted her chin. She lifted her chin, and the headdress covered in roses lifted too. “My name is Amara. Watch me fly.”
She took a deep breath and stepped onto the thin wire. She walked as surely as one walked on the ground, but when she reached halfway, she wobbled. Parts of the wire were caught in the torch-light and rose petals released from her headdress. It floated gracefully on the way down and Kaz couldn’t bear to watch the girl fall, so he looked at Inej. Here eyes were determined and her mouth was set in a tight line, body tense, almost as if she were walking the wire herself. She looked beautiful, enduring, determined. The crowd gasped and Kaz looked back to Amara. Even from down in the audience, he caught the slightest smirk as she walked and bounced and flew across the wire. Nice trick, he thought, as he caught sight of Mama’s triumphant grin at the bottom of the ladder. Amara stepped onto the wire backwards, and walked the wire as if she was born to, and maybe if he looked hard enough, he might see a pair of wings. But he only cared about one winged being, and she was sitting right next to him.
With Amara placing her feet onto the ground, the crowd burst into a standing ovation. This went on, and the show finished. Everyone was filing out, but Inej stood, waiting, looking, hoping. Soon, everyone had left and the torches burned low. Kaz saw the conflict on Inej’s face. “Inej,” he called, “The world is in your hands.”
That was all the encouragement she needed. She nodded, determined, and walked over to the two ringleaders who were still in the middle of the field. Inej talked with them for a while, and Kaz simply waited for her, using the time to imagine Jordie and him, back at the Suli carnival. Would you believe me if I had told you angels really existed? Jordie would you believe me if i said that magic was real? And for a moment, Kaz saw a flash of wings, but he wasn’t the only one. Mama, and Papa looked at Inej with kindness and Amara stared in amazement. She wasn’t alone anymore. She deserved every scrap of goodness the world offered her. And Kaz knew he had none to give.
Inej turned and walked back to him, and only once she appeared before him again, he saw a wild geranium in her hair. He wanted to stay. He wanted to pause the world and just look at her forever. He was afraid at what that meant. “We should go.”
Inej nodded and followed Kaz out the carnival, basking in the dimming lights in the air. She clasped her hands around his torso once again, and noticed that he still hadn’t put on his gloves. Kaz rode back to the abandoned town and walked her to the tower he had first seen her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and her wings glowed in the moonlight.
In a trance, he raised his gloveless hand, as if to reach for her wings, but instead they found her cheek. He was about to pull away, but Inej nudged into him. His breathing hitched. Inej whispered, “Go on.”
So he did, and cupped her face with his bare hand, trying to memorise her face with his fingers. He stepped closer and inej lifted her head in return. Kaz let his lips brush her other cheek and he felt the tickle of a petal on his forehead. She smelled like summer. Kaz pulled back and lowered his hand. Inej raised her own and brushed her hand with his, linking their fingers. They stood like that for an eternity. Until Kaz felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“It…was enjoyable for me too, thank you,” Kaz nodded.
Inej gave him a small smile. Kaz returned the favour.
“Next time, deva.”
Inej grinned, “Yes, next time.”