Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Knyaz Sol, Sun Prince, was how the people of Ravka called the Sun Summoner, may the Saints protect his soul.

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Many years ago, Ravka found their salvation in the most unexpected place.

A Darkling, like many other Darklings before him, had a son. However, unlike the Darklings before him, he chose to bring his son to the Little Palace with him. A bright, cheerful boy that answered to the name of Kazimir. The little Kazimir was his father’s shadow, following him around with a little black kefta to match.

“He’ll be a fine Shadow Summoner,” the Darkling used to say. “More powerful than I could ever be.”

Little Kazimir was four, just shy of turning five, when he made the sun settle upon the palm of his hand. The young second prince, Nikolai, witnessed the miracle.

And, thus, a generation of Darklings was broken.

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Nikolai was still adapting to military service. It was refreshing to be treated as if his life held value. Noted, it was the value of spilling his blood to keep back the fjerdan and the shu from invading their borders. To keep them from pushing the frontiers a little farther each day, until Ravka was nothing but an old folk tale meant to be forgotten in a generation or two.

Food was… Well, it was food. Nikolai would not be the one to complain about how terrible the food was in comparison to Os Alta’s Royal Cuisine. Nikolai felt as though he was swallowing dirt. At least the tent was warm.

Regardless, he tried to pay attention to the surrounding conversation.

Miros chuckled. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Vitya, across the table, flushed harder. “There’s no point in discussing it because it’s not going to happen!” He squeaked out, then flushed even harder.

“We’re all friends here,” Miros insisted. He elbowed Nikolai softly, to get his support. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty?”

Nikolai laughed and gave him a playful shoulder check. “First of all, that’s the wrong title. ‘Your Majesty’ is reserved for the king, which I’m not. Second of all, I’ve told you, you can call me Nikolai just fine, because, third of all,” he turned to Vitya and grinned, “we are friends.”

Vitya was young, perhaps a year younger than Nikolai, but he looked as if he were fourteen. Maybe he was yet to hit that growth spurt they had all reached before enlisting. He just had such an innocent demeanour and face. At the very least, Nikolai found relief with Vitya being a mere mapmaker rather than something more demanding and dangerous, like, say, infantry, which was what Nikolai was.

Vitya nibbled on his spoon. Eventually, he sighed, shoulders sagging. “Fine, alright,” he muttered. He pushed at his porridge with the spoon. “There is someone… I… like…” His voice became weaker as he finished. He was so red even his ears were flushed.

Miros wolf whistled and slipped from the seat beside Nikolai’s to round the table and settle in the empty spot next to Vitya. He wrapped an arm behind his shoulders and squeezed him against his side.

“Well, well, look at you,” Miros gave him a playful shake. “Such a flirt.”

Nikolai laughed wholeheartedly. “Says you.”

Between the three of them, Miros was a player alright. He was older, handsome, well-built and he had a natural charisma built solely for a passing fling. Like Nikolai, he was in the infantry. He was a man of action, be it on a bedroll or on the battlefield, which Nikolai could appreciate.

“What is she like?” Miros whispered.

Vitya fiddled with his bowl. “She…” He sighed, dreamily, sagging in his chair and dropping his chin on his palm as he stared into the distance. “She’s absolutely incredible.” The flush on his cheeks receded until it became a mere blush that made him livelier. “She’s the most amazing woman I have ever met.”

Nikolai pushed his half-eaten porridge aside to lean forward on the table. Now this conversation was becoming interesting. “Is she?” Nikolai purred.

Vitya turned red again. “We’re from the same town, but she’s older than me. We were neighbours growing up. She enlisted a few years ago. Her parents said she was a tracker.”

“You were hoping to find her here, weren’t you?” Miros asked.

Vitya nodded. “Yeah, but I had no luck.” He looked sad, then. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to find her now, honestly. She could be anywhere.”

Nikolai hummed. “So is the risk of following a beloved.”

Vitya brought up a spoonful of porridge to his lips. “Yeah…”

“What about you, Nikolai?” Miros asked then. “Got any noble lady waiting for you back home?”

Nikolai straightened, his smile becoming a little stiff. “No,” he said, then chuckled. “Not really, no.” He reached for his canteen and took a swig of water.

Miros rested his elbows on the table, fingers intertwined under his chin. He waited for Nikolai to finish drinking before speaking. “A dream boy waiting, then?” He grinned.

Nikolai thought of long, pale fingers bending light; of a soft, devilish chuckle; of brown eyes so deep he could see his truest self reflected in them; of black hair, sharp cheekbones and rosy lips.

Nikolai, purposely, cleared his throat. “Maybe,” he offered simply.

Miros lifted an eyebrow, his grin widened. For being twenty-five, he had a very boyish smile. “Maybe?” He echoed. “What is he like?”

“That’s all you’re getting from me,” Nikolai said, taking a spoonful of porridge up to his lips.

“Not fair!” Vitya objected. “I told you about Jana!”

Miros turned on his seat to look at Vitya, grin not faltering. “Jana, huh?”

Vitya flushed. “Not the point,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Miros snickered. “Alright, alright. We’ll circle back to you after we deal with Your Royal Majesty.”

“Not the correct title,” Nikolai said after swallowing his food.

Miros shrugged the comment off. “Come on, Kolya, you’ve ought to give us something.”

“You haven’t spoken of any beloved,” Nikolai replied curtly.

“Because I’ve no beloved that’s lasted more than one night,” Miros said. “We’ve been through this already.”

“You’re a very noisy old man, have I told you that?”

Miros hunched and narrowed his eyes. “Indulge your old man with your sappy tales, my dear grandson,” he rasped, making his voice sound lower and with the intonation of a very frail old man. He even put a hand on his back and pretended to shake an invisible cane.

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but, otherwise, remained quiet.

After enough pause, Miros scoffed and leaned back with his arms crossed. “Fine. Keep your secrets. Just don’t expect us to share ours.”

Nikolai closed his eyes, took a breath, counted to three, then opened them again. “He is… Handsome.” After a pause, he added. “Incredibly handsome.”

Miros smirked. “More handsome than you?”

Nikolai gave him a look. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Vitya snorted.

Nikolai sighed. “He’s also incredibly clever. Freakishly good with numbers. And he’s sensitive. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man half as kind and caring as he is.”

“See?” Miros said. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Nikolai laughed. “No, it wasn’t.”

The murmuring of the other soldiers around them stopped as a person suddenly appeared at the entrance. The tent flap even sounding sharp amongst the noise. Nikolai expected to see sergeant Petrovic, but no. It was just an ordinary soldier. One that Nikolai didn’t happen to know personally, at the very least.

He was panting. Nikolai would describe him as frantic, except he was grinning like an idiot. No, he definitely was frantic, just in a very excited way. Nikolai didn’t understand why, until he opened his mouth and yelled.

“Knyaz Sol is here!”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Beloved by all the people of Ravka, Knyaz Sol was a living saint. He was kind and loving, willing to help anybody who needed the grace of a saint, were they deserving or not. He was the light of hope Ravka had so desperately craved.

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My dearest Kazik,

I’m sorry. I know I promised that I would be arriving today, but I’m afraid that some business at the University will have to keep me back for some extra days. Believe me, it breaks my heart to remain separated from you, but it can’t be helped.

I’ll bring you sweets from Ketterdam. The fanciest and most savory, to make up for the tears I’ve caused you to shed with my delay. One piece for every day I’ve missed you and for every night I’ve thought of you before falling asleep.

Forever yours,

Nikolai

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Privyet was being followed.

Not a surprising thing, considering he was well aware of the risks when Nikolai asked for his help with this. Most people outside the University wouldn’t know him unless he made know he was supposed to be Nikolai Lantsov. Regardless, walking down East Stave while trying to look inconspicuous and not wealthy enough to get mugged was a danger on it’s own.

Privyet’s fingers ghosted the shape of his revolver hidden under his coat.

The street was too crowded for the person who was following him to do anything, or for him to do anything to whoever was following him. He would keep walking and wait for an opportunity to strike. Perhaps on one of the streets between the Stave and the University District.

Sounded like a solid plan to him.

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The first time Inej saw Knyaz Sol was back on Ravka.

Her family caravan had stopped near a town and a First Army camp. It was butter week, and the town people seemed more ecstatic than Inej had ever seen anyone for this particular holiday. She didn’t understand the ruckus of why this Butter Week was so different in particular.

Mama and Papa were puzzled, too. But when Uncle came back from asking for a spot for Suli acrobats to perform, he could barely conceal his excitement.

“Knyaz Sol,” he’d exclaimed breathlessly. “He’s stationed here.”

Then, Inej understood why the people were in such a rush to make this Butter Week the event of the century.

Knyaz Sol. The Sun Prince. The Sun Summoner. He was a saint, alive and breathing. The stories said that he was bright and kind, that his skin was warm and welcoming like a summer evening. Mama also told her about how he was capable of crying golden tears of light that were capable of healing any wound and illness.

Knyaz Sol was sitting amongst the multitude. The images of him made him no justice. The paintings were a reflection of when he was younger, Inej realized, with chubby cheeks that would blush when he smiled, eyes dark that reflected the light that settled on his palm and the golden streams that flowed from the corner of his eyes.

In person, the image was completely different. He was a boy still, but a step closer to becoming an adult man with sharp features. His eyes were dark and so intense Inej was frozen for a moment, despite him not looking directly at her. Regardless, his smile was wide and kind and his eyes sparkled. He had an impeccable black kefta with details of golden thread. He was holding another boy’s hand between his palms. That boy, with blond hair and dressed in the green First Army uniform, gazed at the Prince of the Sun as if he were the only being in the world that mattered.

Knyaz Sol was brimming with joy as he stared up at Inej and her family doing their acrobat act. He even let one of his hands away to grab at the soldier’s shoulder and shake him lightly. His lips moved, but his eyes stayed on the act. The soldier chuckled and leaned into Knyaz Sol’s touch.

For the next part, Uncle was making time as Inej climbed up to the high wire. Her heart was beating faster with each step. Knyaz Sol is watching, she repeated to herself as the wire came closer within reach. He is watching and you have to impress him.

“Who will dare defy death itself?” Uncle asked towards the crowd, but he gestured at Inej standing up high in the wire.

Inej stood tall, chin up and hands on her hips, but her eyes were locked on Knyaz Sol. “I will!”

The crowd gasped. Knyaz Sol looked up and the smile disappeared from his lips, his whole face going pale. His dark eyes were focused on Inej.

And she froze.

His stare was absolute. His eyes were so dark Inej couldn’t distinguish color from pupil from this far, but it was a strange look. A saint so gentle having a look that left you bare, as if he could look into the soul and deeper still. Observe the threads that made a person and judge them from where he sat.

Sankt Kazimir, the Sun Prince, looked into Inej’s soul and he was utterly terrified.

“A little girl?” Uncle said, straining his neck to look up. “That can’t be right.”

The man sat next to Knyaz Sol was also looking at Inej. First shocked and then furious. “What is the meaning of this?” He yelled at Uncle. “Get her down! You don’t even have a net set up.”

The crowd echoed the man’s sentiment. They were screaming for someone to get the little girl down safely before she got hurt.

Inej shook her head, to free herself of whatever hesitation she was still trapped in, and she stepped on the wire.

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Nikolai couldn’t sleep.

He turned and shifted, then hissed in pain as the muscle of his shoulder was pulled.

The Volkvolny rocked by the midnight waves would have lulled him to sleep any other day, but this night in particular, it gnawed at his guilty conscience.

He was a liar. A filthy, despicable lying dog—

He hid his face behind his palms and tried his best not to think of the boy that waited for him to return.

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Nina remembered Kaz. She had seen him almost every day for years and then very few times as they both started going on missions.

Being the Sun Summoner did not spare him from being the prime subject of constant gossip —even if he, too, was a gossipy little shit.

Knyaz Sol was how they called him. The Sun Prince. The name had been around for as long as Nina could remember. Maybe since before she had been brought to the Little Palace as a whole. When she was younger, she remembered that Kaz and prince Nikolai were always together, as if they were attached at the hip and being apart for long caused them physical pain. Two out of the three times Nina had seen him at any point, Kaz had been with prince Nikolai, or prince Nikolai had been nearby, watching him.

At first, they had been nothing more than friends, or so people said, but, then, things shifted. It became apparent that it wasn’t just friendship why they remained close together. Their eyes always searched for the other. They had lingering hand touches. Hell, Kaz kept slipping his hand into Nikolai’s when he wanted to take him somewhere or for no reason at all.

Even clearer still, was how infatuated prince Nikolai was with him.

So, Kaz went from being known as the Sun Saint to Knyaz Sol, the prediction that, one day, prince Nikolai had the full intention of marrying him.

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Knyaz Sol had a mission to fulfil. He’d been brought to the world of Otkazat’sya and Grisha for one reason.

Please, protect us, the people cried.

Stay under my light, Knyaz Sol proclaimed. For it will keep the Dark at bay.

Please, guard us, the children sobbed.

For as long as the Sun shines in the sky, Knyaz Sol announced. You will have me to make the Dark never reach you.

Please, free me, the land begged. Cleanse me from this blight that has done nothing but bring despair to our people.

The Unsea will be destroyed, Knyaz Sol bowed. For that is my holy mission; my sacred duty. I will not rest, for Ravka cannot find peace as long as the Dark still looms.

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Nikolai stepped out of the tent in a daze.

It can’t be, he thought.

Vitya gave him a look. “What?” He asked. So, he had said it out loud. His mistake.

Nikolai’s eyes found him, because, how couldn’t he?

He stood in the middle of the crowd gathered around him. Hundreds of men and women dressed in First Army green that flocked to him. A sea of adoring voices and cries.

Kazik was there, smiling awkwardly as he shook hand after hand that kept being shoved in his direction. He didn’t pay attention to the hands that reverently reached to touch his black kefta or to brush the golden embroidery. His eyes kept gliding over the sea of people, searching.

Miros gasped. “Knyaz Sol,” he murmured softly. “He really is here.”

At that moment, Kazik’s eyes found them.

Nikolai’s breath got caught on his throat.

Kazik straightened and his smile turned into that wide, foolish grin Nikolai adored so much. He let go of the hand he shook and, gently, pushed aside the person in front of him that was blocking his path. Then the next. And the next. His lips were moving as he went, speaking apologies as he weaved through them.

Nikolai started walking before his brain uttered the command.

“Where are you going?” Vitya asked, but Nikolai paid him no mind.

Miros said something, but Nikolai didn’t even bother to pretend to listen. He was too busy grabbing someone’s shoulders and pushing them out of his way.

The people realized that Kazik had somewhere he wanted to go, so they began clearing the way.

Nikolai still had to push his way through the crowd, elbowing people and stumbling as he got pushed to the side, ignoring the people insulting him and telling him to wait like everyone else.

Kazik was going faster and faster as more people stepped aside until there was nobody blocking him anymore to allow him to run.

Nikolai was just pushing past another soldier when Kazik jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

Nikolai hugged him back, pulling him closer to his body. Kazik nuzzled his face into Nikolai’s shoulder.

It had been, what? A month? A month without seeing each other. A month where they traded letters as fast as the carrier could travel. A month where Nikolai had started settling into the misfortune of waking up and knowing he won’t be able to sneak away in the early morning to go with Kazik to raid the kitchens before breakfast. A month trying to come to terms with not being able to see him every time his heart demanded.

Kazik’s shoulders were shaking. Nikolai let his hand slide through his back in a soothing manner. A sob escaped Kazik’s throat.

Kazik pulled his head away from Nikolai’s shoulder and, suddenly, that spot felt much colder. “I missed you.” His voice was all wobbly and the tears kept flowing down his cheeks.

He had such beautiful eyes. The prettiest most terrifying brown eyes Nikolai had ever laid upon. Brown and deep, like dark chocolate filled with coffee liquor. Intoxicating and blissful. Better than getting drunk on the finest Zemeni wine.

Nikolai chuckled. “Your father is going to kill me, you know?”

Kazik pressed his lips into a pout. “I won’t let him,” he mumbled. After a pause, much softer, he asked. “Didn’t you miss me?”

Nikolai reached with one hand to clean the tears off his face. “Every waking moment.”

Kazik blushed, then buried his face into his shoulder again.

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After the act was over, Knyaz Sol, accompanied by that First Army Soldier, approached Inej and her family.

Papa and Uncle shook his hand between their palms as they bowed and whispered his name.

Mama almost cried when she held his hands. “They’re so warm,” she whispered in awe.

Knyaz Sol chuckled. “It’s because of the summoning,” he explained. “Light is warm, so my body is a little warmer than most.”

Mama bowed and her lips came close to his knuckles, but they didn’t dare brush his skin. “Knyaz Sol.”

After her, Inej’s cousins offered the same respectful greetings as the adults had, although not as revering.

When it was Inej’s turn, she hesitated.

Papa squeezed her shoulders, reassuringly. “It’s alright, meja,” he whispered close to her ear and softly pushed her forward. “Forgive my daughter, my Prince, she’s a little shy.”

Inej didn’t dare look up at him.

She startled when he leaned forward and tilted his head to be in her field of vision.

“I find that a little surprising,” he said, a warm smile on his lips, “considering her confidence when she walked that wire.”

Inej felt her face go warm. Knyaz Sol was truly a kind and merciful saint. Regardless, she offered a respectful bow to him. “Thank you, Knyaz Sol,” she mumbled.

Inej did dare to glance at him after speaking.

His smile didn’t waiver nor change. “I am very observant,” he said. “Not even the most skilled Squalors I know would dare to try to walk on air. They would have to be drunk to attempt it and fail spectacularly. They’d be grinding their teeth with jealousy if they were to watch you, miss.” He frowned softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name.” He straightened to look at Mama, Papa, Uncle and her cousins. “Rather, I don’t know any of your names.”

Papa bowed his head in acknowledgment. “We are the Ghafas, Knyaz Sol.”

Knyaz Sol nodded carefully. “That’s not— Nevermind. It was lovely to meet you all. And thank you for the hospitality.”

Mama bowed again. “Thank you, Knyaz Sol, for blessing our family with your presence.”

Knyaz Sol walked away then, the soldier trailing right next to him. Before leaving, he turned and waved with a smile. He slipped his hand to intertwine his fingers with the blonde soldier before disappearing out of sight.

Later that night, Inej realized she was the only one of them that didn’t hold Knyaz Sol’s hand for a blessing. She felt stupid for it.

Papa didn’t help with her mortification. He just patted her back and said. “That’s on you, meja. I even pushed you forward.”

Inej groaned, burying her face deeper on her mother’s shoulder. “I know…”

Mama laughed softly. “Maybe next time?”

Inej peaked out an eye to look at her. “You really think there could be a next time?”

Mama hummed. “I don’t see why not.”

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Nikolai was anxious when his carriage entered the Royal Grounds. He looked out through the door’s window, his eyes searching as the carriage rolled to the Grand Palace entrance.

Kazik wasn’t on the steps, waiting for him.

It was fine. He was probably in class, or training. His schedule was always packed when he was here, anyways.

Nikolai stepped out and, absent-mindedly, hummed as a response to whatever question the valet had made.

He marched inside. He would offer a quick salute to his parents and brother, then rush to the Little Palace to search for Kazik. His shoulder still ached, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bear to delay his return one day more.

He advanced through the hallways quickly, his steps echoing just as loud as his heartbeat. He’d just reach the hallway to the Throne Room when the doors of it swung open.

Nikolai stopped dead on his tracks.

The Darkling was standing right there and he looked… Rough. His skin was paler, there were circles under his eyes, his usually perfectly combed hair was a mess and his kefta wasn’t even buttoned. He looked at Nikolai, eyes going wide for a moment, as the doors closed behind him.

Then he was marching towards him, looking absolutely furious.

Nikolai didn’t think he was angry at him, specifically. Perhaps angry at something his father did or said and, because he was a Lantsov, he was just as guilty for a crime he didn’t know about.

“General,” Nikolai saluted, forcing an easy smile on his face. “It’s been a while, have you seen—?”

As soon as Nikolai was within grabbing reach, the Darkling punched him in the face.

That certainly caught him by surprise.

Although, he was even more surprised when the Darkling grabbed him and slammed him against the nearest wall.

Nikolai hissed. His shoulder was still very wounded and this certainly wasn’t helping at all.

“This is all your fault,” the Darkling spat, face centimetres away from Nikolai’s.

Nikolai didn’t know how to feel about being manhandled by a man one head shorter than him and about twenty pounds lighter. Noted, that man was a very powerful Grisha, so perhaps Nikolai should think very carefully how to proceed regarding the situation.

“Careful, Darkling,” Nikolai said as he slowly lifted his hands in full view of the Darkling. “Whatever the issue is, treason is not the solution.”

“A son for a son,” the Darkling muttered, eyes vacant despite glaring right into Nikolai’s. “I think that’s as fair as life could become.”

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Privyet was a little confused.

He hid on an alley, gun in his hand, but his stalker never appeared. The feeling of being watched remained, but there was nobody in sight.

For the rest of the track to his dorm, he was utterly and completely alone.

So, imagine his shock, when after verifying he was still alone before he opened his dorm door, he was shoved inside then slammed against the door that clicked shut.

Privyet was speechless.

There was a man, almost his same height, bruised, battered, his hair a mess, like he’d run his way out of Hell. There was a nasty, scabbing cut going from his right cheek across his face, passing over the ridge of his nose, and settling just right under his left eye. He was breathing harshly as his forearm pressed against his throat. His eyes were dark, deep, and utterly terrifying. Privyet could see his future mirrored back to him. The forearm would press tighter and tighter against his throat, his face would turn red, then purple as he became unable to breathe. His legs would buckle, but the hold wouldn’t waver. The skin and hair would fall off his skull, leaving behind nothing but the pristine bone. Death made man had walked into his doorstep and was going to take him before his time had actually come.

Death was, also, very handsome, Privyet realized. He would have rathered to never know that fact if it meant he’d stay alive for longer.

“Where is Nikolai?” Death demanded.

Privyet struggled to swallow. “Excuse me?”

Death pressed more of his body weight against Privyet’s wind pipe. “Where. Is. Nikolai?” He repeated, his voice droppings into a very low and dangerous whisper.

“I’m—” Privyet wheezed. “I’m Nikolai—”

“Liar!” Death screamed. “You are not Nikolai— Tell me what you did to him, or I swear to the Saints—” His voice cracked.

Death began crying. Tears were flowing down his face before he could help it. He rubbed furiously at his face, never easing on his hold.

Privyet used his momentary distraction to kick his leg aside.

Death crumbled to the floor, groaning in pain as he curled into a ball to clutch the leg Privyet had kicked.

A leg that was wrapped in the remains of black cloth with a thick stick to serve as support.

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“Can’t you stay?” Kazik said.

Nikolai didn’t dare turn around as he continued packing his things. If he saw his tears, his resolve would crumble and all his secrets would tumble out. The University enrolment lie to hide his apprenticeships. He had a very careful plan. He couldn’t tell Kazik about it, or else he would follow him like when he enlisted.

“You know I can’t,” Nikolai said softly.

“Can’t or you just don’t want to?” Kazik spat then.

Nikolai stilled. His throat bobbed, as he struggled to take a breath.

“Do you really hate being here so much you’d rather leave?”

Slowly, Nikolai turned around.

Kazik was crying. Jaw set, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white, but he was glaring straight at Nikolai. Nikolai didn’t dare move a muscle. Kazik’s glare was lethal. His eyes were scary even when he was forcing himself to maintain his image of the benevolent Knyaz Sol, but when he purposely made his eyes appear more intimidating? Even the toughest and most fearless bastards would succumb to their knees and beg for mercy.

Kazik scowled and lifted his hand to clean his tears with the meat of his palm. “I hate this, you know?” He hissed, gesturing at his face and his crooked, furious smile. “I hate that people think that I’m so easy to bring to tears because of how much I cried when I was little. No matter what I do, how capable of a Grisha Soldier I become, how many Drüskelle I kill, they will still regard me as the oh so gentle Sun Prince with his stupid fucking golden tears. I’ve grown and I can count with one hand the things that still make me cry like this.”

Nikolai held his breath as Kazik walked up to him. He moved slowly, carefully, like a lone wolf stalking a doe in the forest. A doe which had heard the crunch of snow and stayed frozen, looking at the tree’s shadows for the twitch of an ear or the movement of a tail.

Kazik stopped before him, his chin tilted up and his glare steady as tears continued to trickle down. Nikolai just needed to stretch his hand a little and he would be able to pull him into his arms and bury himself in his warmth.

Kazik lifted a singular finger, to begin count. “You,” he muttered. His hand trembled, so he flexed his fingers and then closed his hand into a fist and let it fall against Nikolai’s chest. “Only you are capable of bringing me to the level of tears as if I was that same toddler who got spooked by loud noises.”

Nikolai lifted his hands to cup Kazik’s face. The moment their skin touched, his tears began to fall faster and a sob left his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Nikolai whispered pressing their foreheads together. Kazik’s fist open so his palm settled over Nikolai’s beating heart. “Saints, Kazik, it’s never been my intention to make you cry.” He felt his tears pooling against his fingers, then sliding around his hand to continue their way downwards.

“But you do anyways,” Kazik sobbed.

Nikolai made a face. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Is that all you know how to say?” Kazik accused, he tried to rip himself away from Nikolai’s hold, but his hands held firm. “Have you nothing else to tell me?”

Nikolai pressed his eyes closed. “Yes,” he breathed out. “I do hate being here.” He felt Kazik stiffen, then try to pry Nikolai’s hands off his face, but Nikolai refused to ease his hold. “I hate it like you’ve no idea. I despise this place with every fibre of my being. I loathe how dull it is, how, despite all my efforts, my family couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care for me. I hate how I can’t do anything to advance in this place because Vasily is the Crown prince and he’ll be the one to become King. Even if he’s a shit ruler or cares even less than my father for politics, he’ll take the Crown because the alternative is to leave it to me and he can’t have that. I hate the whispers behind my back that have chased me my whole life. The rumours that I’m a bastard and should be vanished from this place. The judgmental stares because of how unruly I was when I was younger. I despise that I’ll always be the Second Prince before being just Nikolai. I’ve thought of leaving this place and never coming back because I’m sure that I could be of better use to Ravka far away from this rotten jail of guided gold.”

He felt Kazik’s breathing against his face. The shaky exhale and the desperate inhale of air. Nikolai didn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look his face, not when he could feel how the tears kept flowing against his skin.

But then hands grappled his coat. They held onto him like he would disappear into thin air.

“Then let’s go together.” Kazik’s voice was shaky, breaking with sobs and hiccups as he clung to Nikolai. “Let’s leave and never come back—”

Nikolai wrapped his arms around him, like he could fuse him to his body if he tried hard enough. He felt his own tears prickle behind his eyes, so he kept his eyes shut tight. “No,” he said firmly. “No, you can’t leave, Kazik. This place needs you more than me—”

“I don’t care!” Kazik screamed. He pushed Nikolai back, separating their bodies. The surprise was enough to force Nikolai to open his eyes and look at him. He held Nikolai’s lapels in his fists, his cheeks flushed and his eyes red because of how much he was crying, but his face was contorted in a furious snarl. “I don’t fucking care if they need me more than you, I need you even worst.”

Then he yanked Nikolai forward and kissed him.

It was desperate, it was raw, it was a scream and it was everything Nikolai dreamed about and more still.

Nikolai’s hands found Kazik’s waist and he wrapped his arms around him, pulling their bodies close together. He was just as desperate for this. He’d ached a kiss from his lips for years. Always dancing around the fragile line of friendship. An embrace that lingered for a moment too long. Stares that hid secrets they wanted to bare out, but couldn’t. Words whispered in the dark that never dared cross that unspoken line.

It was all promptly thrown aside for this very moment.

Kazik’s fingers tangled in his hair. His lips parted and Nikolai kissed him deeper. He tasted of sweets. Chocolate. Kazik always loved chocolate and Nikolai finally seemed to understand why that was. If chocolate tasted like this, he would have it every day for the rest of his life too.

Before he knew it, Kazik was walking forward until the back of Nikolai’s legs hit the bed and the tumbled down, dragging Kazik with him.

Kazik was straddling him. Pressing down on him, so he could feel the warmth his body exuded despite the clothing in between. He bit down on Nikolai’s bottom lip, making him gasp.

“Let me come with you,” Kazik insisted, murmuring the words. He kissed him again, mouth open, tongue pushing against Nikolai’s.

Nikolai took a fistful of Kazik’s hair and pulled him back slightly. Kazik gasped, then shuddered as Nikolai began trailing kisses along his jaw. “You can’t—” Nikolai muttered, rolling with Kazik so he was the one on his back and Nikolai was on top of him. “I’ll come back— Saints, Kazik, you’re the sole reason why I keep coming back—” Kazik moaned as Nikolai sucked on the hollow of his throat. His hands pulling at Nikolai’s coat to remove it, and what was Nikolai not to oblige? “I love you.” He kissed him again, fumbling with his kefta’s buttons. His bag of clothes was either pushed or kicked, and it fell dully to the ground. “Saints, I love you so much I couldn’t bring myself to leave sooner.”

“Promise me you’ll keep coming back,” Kazik gasped. “Every time. Promise me you’ll always come back to me.”

“I promise,” Nikolai said as he threw Kazik’s kefta to the floor. “I swear it on my life.”

“I love you.” Kazik pulled him down and kissed him again. “I love you, Niko.” And he kissed him some more.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Somehow, Death escaped.

Privyet wasn’t sure how it happened. He was looking at him. He’d managed to pull out his gun and point it at him.

Death didn’t even try to stand up. He just pushed himself into a sitting position, tears dripping, and he hissed through gritted teeth when he moved his broken leg. That chilling stare followed him as Privyet rounded him.

He’d taken his eyes away for one second. One quick glance into his stuff to confirm he had grabbed the rope he had stashed in the closet and not something else.

Somehow, that had been enough for him to disappear.

And Privyet didn’t get to make him any questions.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

When the time came, Knyaz Sol travelled to the Unsea; alone. He did not announce his departure, for he didn’t wish to give the people of Ravka false hope.

He stood before the unending, eternal Dark, looking miniscule in comparison.

Suddenly, Knyaz Sol wasn’t the salvation of a dying nation, but a small and very fragile little boy heading right into the mouths of Hell.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

When morning came, Nikolai was surprised to see Kazik already awake.

He was curled on his side, staring intently at Nikolai’s face. His eyes were puffy, because of how much he’d cried the night before. His hair was tangled, like one would expect their hair to look first thing in the morning after rolling around in bed.

Nikolai yawned and stretched under the covers. “Morning,” he mumbled. “How long have you been awake?”

Kazik supported himself up on his elbows. The blankets slipped down, allowing Nikolai to witness the dark bruises on his pale skin. The red marks of where he’d sunk his teeth. The view made something wild and primal awake on Nikolai. He wanted to pounce on him, kiss him again, leave even more marks. He wanted to whisper ‘Mine’ against his skin for forever and ever.

“A while,” Kazik whispered.

Before Nikolai could even try to sit up, Kazik’s hand shot to his chest and pushed him back down.

Nikolai watched as Kazik leaned into his space, caging him against the mattress. He realized he actually didn’t mind it at all in the slightest.

“It’s still early,” Kazik whispered, his eyes glassy. “Let me have this for a little longer.”

He kissed him.

Nikolai didn’t want to leave anymore, because leaving meant leaving this, and he’d spent so many nights wishing for it to come true.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

“I’m thinking that perhaps it’s time for you to get an amplifier,” the Darkling said.

Kaz hadn’t even sat properly and now he was jumping out of his seat. “Really?” He exclaimed, eyes shining bright. “What kind of amplifier? Like, a wolf? A wolf would be awesome. I think it would fit me pretty well, don’t you think? Also, think of how furious the Fjerdan would be if they learned that the Sun Witch had the power of a wolf. The Drüskelle will be writhing at night.” He smirked.

The Darkling laughed. “I was thinking of something a little more… Magnificent.”

Kaz sat back down, an incredulous look on his face. “You don’t think wolves are magnificent?” He asked blankly.

“They’re magnificent creatures,” the Darkling conceded. “But not the creature most deserving of being the Sun Summoner’s amplifier.”

Kaz blinked. After a pause, he said. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “So, what did you have in mind then?”

“Morozova’s Stag.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Kaz waited on the entrance steps of the Grand Palace.

He’d rushed through breakfast —although he tried to skip it altogether—, so he could be the first to welcome back Nikolai once he arrived. Who knows, maybe Nikolai would be so happy when he saw him that he’d kiss him again. There are a lot of dark and secluded rooms in the Palace, if they were to become necessary—

Saints, he was hopeless. He had a taste of sex once and now he was craving a second dosage. He’d lived without it with no problems, but now it was the only thing on his mind.

He was utterly, pathetically, foolishly hopeless.

His stomach grumbled.

Kaz lifted his chin from his palm to scowl at his own body. Great. This is what he got for shoving his food down his throat as fast as he could and then running away.

“You missed lunch.”

Kaz stiffened and, very slowly, turned his head to look up behind him.

The Darkling was standing on the step above him, hands folded behind his back. Immaculate black hair combed back and his black kefta perfectly unruffled. He was looking at him, brows slightly furrowed in disapproval.

Kaz drew a nervous smile. “Really? I had no idea. How fast time flies by, right?”

The Darkling shook his head, but there was a smile on his lips. He pulled his hand away from his back to reveal a small plate of cream tubes.

Kaz perked up. “Sweet!” He exclaimed, immediately reaching for one.

The Darkling lifted the plate out of reach. “What do we say, Kazimir?”

“Da!” Kaz whined, his fingers still trying to stretch towards the cream tubes without the need of him standing up.

“Try again.”

“Please, Da,” Kaz complained, dropping his hand and letting himself fall back on the steps, next to the Darkling’s feet. “Have mercy of your poor and defenseless little boy!” He cried in mock despair, a hand clutching his chest and the other resting over his forehead. He was imitating the pose of those faint maidens DeKappel sure loved to paint. He even closed his eyes and all. After a moment, he opened one to peak at his father’s reaction.

The Darkling chuckled. “Much better.” He lowered the plate.

Kaz lifted both hands to take it as he exclaimed. “Thanks, Da!” Then immediately sat up and took a massive bite out of a cream tube, then sighed with delight. “You know how these would be better?”

The Darkling sat on the step next to him. “If they were drizzled in chocolate?” He mused, taking one from the plate.

Kaz grinned. “And if the cream filling was chocolate flavour. Wait! I know. A chocolate cream filling with chocolate chunks and then the chocolate drizzle, like you said, and then you grate some more chocolate on top, for decorative purposes, of course.”

The Darkling hummed thoughtfully as he chewed on his bite of cream tube. “Perhaps that would be a little too much chocolate.”

Kaz gaped. “There’s no such thing as too much chocolate.”

The Darkling laughed. “Saints, I prefer hearing you say that about chocolate than about kvass.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “I hate kvass,” he muttered, shoving the rest of his cream tube into his mouth. “It’s too…” He wrinkled his nose, still chewing on the cream tube. “Bitter. I can’t stand the taste.”

“My liquor cabinet is grateful for that.” The Darkling lifted his half eaten cream tube as if it were a glass for a toast.

Kaz grabbed another cream tube and clanked it against the Darkling’s. “Cheers.” Then shoved the whole thing right into his mouth. Cream and sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth, and his lips, actually. Maybe even on his cheeks.

“Kazimir!” The Darkling exclaimed, aghast, but he was laughing. “You are too old to be doing these things.” He shuffled closer to him and began wiping his face from the excess sugar and cream.

Kaz couldn’t even complain because of the mouthful he was struggling to chew. He communicated his dissatisfaction by trying to wrestle his face away and making annoyed grunts.

“Keep behaving like that,” the Darkling chuckled, finally pulling away. “And I’ll keep doing this.”

Kaz gave him the stink eye and, finally, swallowed. “I’m seventeen, Da, not a baby.”

The Darkling ruffled his hair. “You’ll always be my baby.”

Kaz huffed. “Imagine having a baby that’s taller than you,” he grumbled. His plate of cream tubes was promptly snatched out of his hands. He gaped at the Darkling, who was standing up while holding the plate on one hand. “Hey!”

“Disrespectful brats don’t get treats,” the Darkling said.

“I was teasing!” Kaz defended himself.

“Tease your friends, not your father,” the Darkling insisted.

Kaz huffed, leaned forward and settled his chin on his palm. “You’re no fun, have I ever told you that?” He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

The Darkling lifted a half-amused eyebrow. “A few times, I reckon, but you’ll get over it. Now, go to the kitchens and get some food.”

Kaz shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll just stay here for a while more.”

The Darkling sighed. “Kazimir, you don’t need to be waiting out here—”

“I want to,” he snapped.

The air around them became colder.

Kaz dropped his chin, to avoid having the Darkling even on his peripheral vision. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t come crying to me when your butt hurts because you’ve been sitting here the whole day,” the Darkling said drily.

He turned on his heel and left, taking the cream tubes with him.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The second time Inej saw Knyaz Sol, she didn’t really believe it was him.

It had to be a hallucination. An image her mind conjured to keep herself sane.

Her window in the Menagerie didn’t look towards the busy streets of East Stave, but towards one of the alleys on the back. An alley with a locked back door that opened when Tante Heleen received her contraband late at night or when she decided to kick out a man that had decided to damage severely one of her girl’s face, instead of the body. The alley was connected to the street behind the Menagerie’s main entrance close to the Canal. It made it harder for the clients or fools to accidentally stumble with Tante Heleen’s less pretty business.

There was a bunch of thugs in the alley. Waiting, or talking, or simply hiding in the most stupid place. They were all smoking, as if life held no real significance.

There were four people on the alley, but Inej had blinked and now there were five.

A ragged man with a limp was beating them up, fighting like a monster that had nothing left to lose.

And he was winning.

He dodged blows and he struck back, fast, precise and aiming to do as much damage as he could. He broke bones. Dislocated shoulders, elbows and wrists. He cracked someone’s head around and the man dropped dead. One of the thugs had gotten him on a head lock and another was rushing at him with a knife. The ragged man allowed the knife to pierce his side, and then threw the man grabbing him over his shoulder and atop the man who stabbed him.

He pulled the knife out of his body and slit the first man’s throat and the other he forced the knife edge into his forehead.

He stood before the last thug, breathing harshly.

He was the second thug that went down when the fight begun. With a broken knee, he was dragging himself across the cobblestones.

The demon in human skin moved towards him, that bad leg dragging stiffly, like a wounded beast that hadn’t satiated its bloodlust just yet.

The thug pushed himself up with shaky arms. When the demon yanked him around, he lashed out with a knife he’d pull out.

The demon leaned back to dodge easily, then grabbed the thug’s wrist and twisted it. The man screamed and the knife cluttered to the floor.

Then the demon slammed him down, pressed his good arm down with his knee and held out his free hand. A ball of light manifested on it.

Inej’s heart beat wildly. Knyaz Sol.

Even the thug was surprised. His lips moved, a barely audible whisper, and the thug’s bravado crumbled.

The demon, bearing Knyaz Sol’s face, extended his fingers. The light on his palm deformed, until it became a plane of light that fit inside his palm.

And he pressed it against the thug’s face.

The man screamed. Knyaz Sol held him steady. In fact, he was grinning. He was grinning as if the jerks and squirms of this man were amusing to him. It was a cruel, rotten grin that Inej had never believed he was capable of having.

The man stopped screaming just as suddenly as Knyaz Sol had made the light appear. Knyaz Sol’s smile disappeared as he pulled his hand away. The thug’s face was nothing but charred remains.

Knyaz Sol didn’t stand up. He held up his hand until the light vanished from over his skin. He got off the thug’s corpse and dragged himself to the shadow of the building. He sagged against the wall and let his head fall against the bricks with his eyes closed.

His hand was pressed over his stab wound.

Devil or not, Inej couldn’t let Knyaz Sol die in the streets of Ketterdam or, worse still, let him be found by a monster like Tante Heleen.

She would get a beating for this.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Night fell on Os Alta, the cold becoming worse and biting. Kaz never cared for the cold. He wasn’t someone that actually got cold easily, but he felt so very cold.

He hugged his knees as he stayed sat on the steps.

Nikolai hadn’t arrived.

Kaz started crying and he hated himself for it. For still having a heart that, no matter how hard he tried to turn it to stone, it fought to stay alive.

Nikolai wouldn’t lie. Alright, he was always lying to other people, but he would never lie to him. He had promised to come back—

So, why didn’t he?

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Knyaz Sol faced the Unsea, proud and capable.

I am not afraid of you, he’d claimed.

The Darkness had laughed. Then you’re foolish. A foolish boy that will perish while pretending to be a saviour.

Your time has come, Knyaz Sol replied. And I will be the one who destroys you.

The Shadow Fold laughed again, because it didn’t believe him capable of such feat.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Miros stared at his canteen of kvass. “So,” he looked at Nikolai out of the corner of his eye, “the Sun Summoner.”

Nikolai took a swig of his own canteen, also filled with kvass. The liquor was bitter, burning as it flowed down his throat. “We grew up together,” he said simply.

Miros hummed. “I figured as much.” He nudged closer to Nikolai, so he could whisper. “I thought he wasn’t allowed on the battlefield.”

Nikolai nodded, then lifted his head to stare, past the fire, at the Grisha tent across the field. “He’s not. He shouldn’t be here.”

Miros smirked. “Now, why would he have come?”

“Because he’s idiotic, reckless and has a death wish?” Nikolai muttered drily, taking his canteen up to his mouth. Miros immediately snatched it away. Nikolai blinked, aghast, and turned to him. “Excuse you?”

Miros rolled his eyes. “Vitya enlisted because he was chasing after the girl he likes—”

“Stop,” Nikolai said, expression serious. “I know where you are trying to go with this and, I’ll let you know, it’s not like that.”

Miros hummed, unconvinced. “Right.” He moved Nikolai’s canteen to his other hand, so now he was grabbing very unsafely two canteens filled with alcohol in a single grapple next to a lit fire. He then clapped Nikolai’s shoulder. “I have your blessing, then?”

Nikolai’s head snapped towards him, looking absolutely furious. “My blessing for what?” He whispered. His hands were clutching his pants knees very tightly. Don’t you dare, he warned mentally. Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say—

Miros smiled. A roguish type of smile. He spoke softly, taunting him. “To pursue Knyaz Sol, of course.”

Nikolai couldn’t help himself, he snarled and launched himself at Miros. He grappled the lapels of his First Army coat and slammed him against the ground. The canteens fell with a dull clank, kvass spilling onto the soil.

Miros was blank faced as he watched Nikolai, not caring about the show of violence. “What a way to prove me right,” he muttered.

Nikolai blinked, then scowled.

A pair of black boots appeared above Nikolai’s field of vision. He knew those boots.

Very slowly, he lifted his head to look up at Kazik, who was looking down at them with a confused frown.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Nikolai threw himself off Miros.

Miros cackled. “No, not at all, Knyaz Sol.” He saluted with two fingers as he remained splayed on the floor. Nikolai shuffled back to the spot he’d claimed as his own.

“Kaz is fine,” Kazik said. “Mind if I join you?”

Miros grinned and say up. “Go ahead, my prince.” Kazik stepped around them and sat on the spot next to Nikolai. “Kaz is short for Kazimir, right?”

“Yes, but only my father calls me that,” Kazik said. He sagged against Nikolai’s shoulder, sighing at the sky. “Makes me feel like an old sage man when someone my age or younger calls me Kazimir.”

Miros snickered, glancing at Kazik leaning against Nikolai. “It is a little funny,” he observed. “Considering there was already a saint named Kazimir. Now we have two.”

Kazik laughed. “In my father’s defense, he assumed I would have been a shadow summoner like him.”

Miros nudged Nikolai with his boot. “Kolya, aren’t you going to introduce me to the Sun Prince?”

Nikolai glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Kazik,” Miros tilted his head, curious and amused, “this is my friend Miros Benes. Miros, I believe an introduction would be unnecessary at this point.”

Miros chuckled, his eyes flickered behind Nikolai and his expresion froze. His eyes opened wide and the smile dropped from his face. He looked almost terrified.

Nikolai swallowed and, hesantly, he looked at his other side, to whatever Miros was looking. He expected the worst, the Darkling wrapped in shadows, his hands doing the gesture for the Cut.

But there was nothing.

He frowned, then looked back at Miros.

He was still looking terrified.

Nikolai looked down at Kazik still cuddled against his shoulder.

Kazik glanced up at him, completetly clueless, and lifted an eyebrow. His way of silently asking ‘What?’.

“Shit, man,” Miros muttered as he quickly got up to his feet. He slapped the dirt off his trousers. “It’s getting late and I’m—” He pretended to yawn as he stretched his back, which made a satisfying crack. “I’m feeling very tired right now. Don’t stay up too late, boys.” He bid them farewell, and flicked Nikolai’s ear on his way.

Nikolai yelped, and covered his ear with his hand as he glared at Miros retreating punchable self.

Miros snorted.

Kazik formed a tiny speckle of light on his fingers and flicked it at Miro’s backside.

Miros jumped with a screech of pain, his hand slapping over the spot the light hit. He started walking away faster.

Nikolai grinned, rubbing his ear. “Thank you for that.”

Kazik grinned back at him. “Anytime.” He undid the buttons of his kefta and pulled out a tiny pouch from inside. He opened it and pulled out a piece of chocolate, then popped it into his mouth. He held the pouch out for Nikolai. “Want some?”

Nikolai hummed, grabbed a piece and put it in his mouth. He chewed, slowly.

He felt Kazik settle the pouch in Nikolai’s lap, then his hand slithered to grab Nikolai’s so he could play with his fingers.

This was the best chocolate he’d ever tasted.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The Darkling was not happy when he found them. In fact, he was absolutely fuming. Kaz was sure he would have killed Nikolai immediately if given the choice. He might still be considering it, if Kaz was honest. He certainly wanted to kill himself. He was embarrassed, as one would be if your own father walked in to see you straddling the very naked Second Prince of Ravka, that was covered in hickeys, and kissing him like your life depended on it —while, also, being completely naked and covered in hickeys and bite marks.

The Darkling stood there, face dark, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently as Kazik and Nikolai fumbled to grab their scattered clothes and get dressed.

Kazik didn’t dare steal another kiss while the Darkling was, figuratively, breathing down his neck.

He was lying, of course, because he did just that at soon as he put on his trousers and shirt.

“Have you any idea of how worried sick I was when I couldn’t find you in the morning?!” The Darkling was screaming as he dragged Kazik away by the back of his shirt neck. “I thought something had happened to you! I feared you were kidnapped or, worse, killed, but, oh, stupid me, you were just too busy tumbling in the prince’s bed!”

Kazik stayed quiet, with his shoes in one hand and his kefta in the other, as he stumbled behind him. He kept his head down, so he wouldn’t see how wide he was grinning. That certainly would make the ear chewing even worse.

But he didn’t care. He felt giddy and light on his feet.

Niko loved him.

He loved him the same way Kazik loved him. Utterly, foolishly and mad beyond reason.

He wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to kiss him until he’d gotten drunk with the taste of him and then to keep kissing him still until the end of times.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Stupid. He was so fucking stupid.

Kaz sat on the edge of the canal and furiously wiped his face to get rid of the tears that insisted on falling.

Why? Why, saints damn it, why did he have to cry for this? Why did Nikolai always make him cry like this? Why couldn’t he be tougher? Why couldn’t he be less sensitive?

Nikolai was a liar. He’d always been a liar. He’d lie to his parents, he’d lie to Vasily, he’d lie to his nannies and the guards and he’d lie to nobles and soldiers. So why had Kaz convinced himself he would never lie to him?

Nikolai had lied to him when he left. He’d looked at him and told him he would go to apprentice some interesting men while he waited for enrollment at Ketterdam’s University for their Architecture course. He promised him he would come back before his birthday so they could celebrate together, the way they always had.

He promised he would always come back to him.

Kaz had always known Nikolai was a good liar, he just never considered he would also lie to him.

Kaz dug his fingers into his scalp and screamed.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Nikolai wanted to throw up.

His legs buckled and the only reason he remained upright was because the Darkling was holding him up.

“He’s dead!” The Darkling snarled at his face, shaking Nikolai. “He’s dead because of you!”

He punched him again.

Nikolai realized that he, indeed, was guilty of the crime.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The Shadow Fold had been right.

When Knyaz Sol entered, he stood no chance.

The Darkness was far too great; far too powerful. Its creatures were starved and they hated the Light.

Knyaz Sol was ripped to shreds, devoured alive by the Volcra, like the hundreds of souls that had died before him and the thousand that would die after him.

When his golden tears fell, they did little to save him. They just prolonged his suffering until the Volcra ate his face.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

He was resting his eyes for a moment. Or that’s what he was telling himself.

He felt like shit. Pain. Everything was painful. His leg, his body, his head, his throat, his side—

Oh, right, stab. He was stabbed.

He needed a Healer.

But he was in Ketterdam. Alone. He had nothing. Nobody. No connections, no resources, no Nikolai—

He wasn’t going to cry. He would never cry again. He’d bowed to never shed a single tear again after he dragged himself out of the Harbour.

A hand ghosted his shoulder.

Kaz jerked away, eyes flying open.

He’d expected to see Nikolai’s dead face.

But what greeted him was a Suli girl. She jumped back, snatching her hand away.

Kaz stared at her, breathing harshly. He frowned, examining her more closely. He knew her. He’d seen her before, he was sure. She was dressed in a cheap imitation of purple Suli silks that barely covered her modesty.

But there were bells.

Her silks had lines of bells that jingled when she moved her hand away.

She was covered in bells and, somehow, he hadn’t heard her approach at all.

The Suli girl, slowly, moved so Kaz could see her hands were empty. The bells remained quiet. “Please, Knyaz Sol, I mean no harm to you,” she whispered. “I only wish to help you.”

He remembered, then. Butter Week, a family of Suli acrobats, a little girl that walked the wire as if gravity wasn’t a real phenomenon that dictated her life.

“Ghafa,” Kaz rasped.

He’d surprised her. She swallowed back a gasp she couldn’t contain completely. “You… You remember me?” She asked, her voice trembling.

“I hate forgetting things,” Kaz mumbled. He allowed his eyes to fall shut for a moment. “I remember that you never gave me you name, just your last name.”

“Inej,” the girl said quickly. “My name is Inej Ghafa, my prince.”

“Inej,” he repeated. His brow furrowed. “What is a Suli acrobat doing in Ketterdam?”

She hesitated. “Bad luck, I suppose.”

He hummed.

Her fingertips ghosted over his shoulder, making him stiffen. “Knyaz Sol—”

“Kaz,” he rasped.

“Pardon me?”

“Call me Kaz,” he insisted. “There’s no point on you calling me that… We’re in a damp alley surrounded by corpses.”

“Of course,” Inej murmured, although she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Listen to me, Kaz, you are in a very dangerous place right now—”

He laughed drily. “No shit.”

“I mean it. Come on, I need to take you somewhere safe.”

Kaz opened his eyes, his head lulled to the side so he stared at her through his lashes. “Is somewhere in Ketterdam even safe?”

Inej pressed her lips into a fine line. “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “But I need to try.”

He stared at her for a moment longer and he could see it perfectly. That same determined shine on her eye as when she stood up on the platform. He could also see the fear hiding under it, the insecurity, the doubt, the hesitation.

She was terrified, but she was here anyways.

He steeled himself against the wall and pushed himself up with a groan. His legs buckled under his weight, but Inej was there and she caught him.

She helped him rise and allowed him to support himself against the wall.

“Take one of their coats,” he said, pointing at the bodies with his chin. “It’s cold out here.”

Inej blinked. She looked down at herself, then at the bodies behind her. One glance was more than enough to make her snap her head away, looking sick.

“I can’t,” she stammered. “That’s— I couldn’t— They’re dead. I can’t desecrate their bodies just like that—”

“Please,” he insisted. “I can’t make you walk around dressed like that. These streets are crawling with criminals and degenerates.”

“Of course,” she muttered. She took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky. “Saints, forgive me.”

You’re forgiven, Kaz thought as he watched Inej crouch next to the man he’d killed by breaking his neck, and struggled to steal his coat.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Nikolai couldn’t sleep at night.

He’d travelled to Kribirks to search for Kazik in the Fold.

He was there, somewhere. Lost in the dark. Hiding from the Volcra.

He had to still be there.

Nikolai refused to accept he was gone. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

He’d promised he would always come back to him.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Inej was very short, Kaz observed, as she struggled to keep his weight steady and to guide him through the dark and secluded streets of the Barrel.

The Barrel, to him, was nothing but a distant tale from the Island of Kerch. The Darkling would always scoff at his reports from Ketterdam.

A den of filth, he’d always said. That entire country. They worship slavery and treat Grisha like cattle. After we deal with Ravka, neutralize the Fjerdans and the Shu, Kerch will be the next place we’ll go to liberate.

I still don’t like your plan, Da, Kaz had told him every time.

I don’t like it either, but it’s the only way, Kazimir.

He still wasn’t totally convinced the Darkling hated his plan as much as he said he did.

Inej had stopped, hiding in a corner’s shadows and allowing Kaz to lean against the wall. The coat on her body made her feel like a child playing dress up. It fit her wrong. Too big at the shoulders, the sleeves kept rolling over her elbows or slipping to cover her entire hand, depending on her movement, and the end of it reached somewhere past her knees. Was this how he looked like when he used to put on his father’s kefta when he was little?

She looked out for a moment at her left, then her right. She sagged against the wall, looking defeated. “Up ahead and the left are dead ends,” she said. “And the only way out is towards East Stave.”

Kaz pushed himself off the wall and looked over from behind Inej.

Down the block, he could see the main street busing with life despite the late hour. Men and women dressed in cloaks and bearing the ugliest masks he’d ever seen. There were people outside every establishment. A myriad of distinct voices that had different conversations that, from this far, were incomprehensible. Laugher, anger, sorrow, desperation.

Too many bodies that could drag him under.

Inej shook her head. “Let’s go back and take a different way,” she whispered.

Kaz nodded. He passed his arm over Inej’s shoulder, his other hand still pressing down on his side, and they turned around.

There were a bunch of burly men waiting on the other side, armed with pistols, knives on their belts and brass knuckles. They were dressed in teal shirts with brown trousers in a squared pattern and the ugliest bright yellow vests Kaz had ever seen.

They were only three. He could take on three men, easily, even if wounded.

But he glanced at Inej.

She was shaking, face pale and eyes wide and full of fear.

Something wasn’t right.

One of the men grinned, showing how some of his teeth were golden. What a fucking waste of gold. “Tryin’ to escape, Little Lynx?” He cooed in Kerch. Kaz had no idea what kind of accent that was, but he found it grating.

Kaz snarled, stepping around Inej to block her out of their sight. He was about to take another step towards them, when Inej’s hand wrapped behind his shirt and squeezed it tight.

The man gave him a once over. His grin dropped into a disgusted frown. “Who’s this beggar? Got yourself a boyfriend, Lynx? Did he promise he’ll take you away and pay off your indenture?”

He and the two men behind him began cackling, as if they had heard the greatest joke ever.

What is a Suli acrobat doing in Ketterdam?

They worship slavery.

Kaz peeled his hand away from his wounded side. His palm was sticky with blood, but it affected nothing on this specific attack.

“Kaz,” Inej whispered in warning, tugging desperately at his shirt to stop him. “You mustn’t— They’ll indenture you. You have to run before it’s too late.”

The man behind the first one, with a stupid beard and a bald spot, stepped around him and leaned an elbow on his shoulder. “What are you trying to do, lad?” He mocked. “Decided you need to defend your whore girlfriend’s honour?”

“I just think you should shut your fucking mouths,” Kaz spat.

He jerked his arm in the familiar arch for the Cut.

The men had barely any time to react. Their faces twisted with shock, but the Cut had already split them at the waist.

Their bodies tumbled to the floor with a pathetic thud.

The street got inundated with the smell of burnt flesh and wool.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

After months of searching, Nikolai had to accept reality.

During his exploration, and while avoiding the Volcra, he’d found remains. Hundreds of remains. First Army uniforms, red and blue Grisha keftas torn to pieces. Bones and the smell of rot. Even mundane commoner clothing. Skirts, trousers, children’s shoes.

But then he’d come across upon what his search team called Knyaz Sol last miracle.

A pocket of life inside the Fold; a small space where they could see the white sand and the blue sky above. There, he found black spots of sand that clung togetehr like stones, and the rests of a black kefta. It was merely strands of clothing, but Nikolai recognized that golden embroidery that had begun to pull loose.

The Darkling had demanded Nikolai to give up Kazik’s kefta so there would be something to bury.

But he couldn’t bring himself to give him away. Not when this was the only piece of him that was left.

He laid curled on his bed, clutching the kefta against his chest.

He lifted it and buried his face on it.

Somewhere past the lingering smell of blood, there was the faint sweet odour of chocolate.

Nikolai’s sobs were muffled against the cloth.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Nikolai’s first encounter with death was in the woods.

He and Miros had joined a tracker in a surveillance party in the woods around camp. The objective was simple. Verify there weren’t any Drüskelle or Shu mercenaries enclosing or sneaking past the camp towards the town and then deeper into the capital.

The tracker had found the rests of a campfire and animal bones with deep teeth marks.

“Drüskelle,” he’d said simply. “And they’ve got their dogs.”

They had their rifles ready as they continued onwards.

The tracker, named Vlad, was the first to go down. A shot rang out and he fell just like that, dead.

Miros had whipped around and shot at where the bullet had come from. Nikolai turned, to cover Miros as he reloaded.

That’s when he heard the snarl.

Nikolai turned, managing to slam the back of his rifle against the wolf’s head as it had jumped to attack him.

The wolf whimpered as it fell down.

“Nikolai!”

Another shot rang out.

Nikolai turned in time to see Miros push him out of the way.

He fell down to the floor, then saw the Drüskelle.

The Drüskelle looked back, his rifle still smoking.

The Drüskelle’s bullet hit Miros and he went down.

Nikolai shot back.

The Drüskelle crumbled just like the tracker had.

Nikolai turned towards the wolf.

The wolf was whimpering, blood trickling down its head as it tried to get up on shaky paws.

Nikolai pulled out his issued combat knife and buried it into the wolf’s chest.

It stopped moving.

He turned his attention towards Miros.

Miros was lying flat on his back, a hand pressed over his gut overflowing with blood. It seeped through his fingers, staining the rest of his uniform.

He rushed to Miros’ side. “Hey,” he said quickly. Miros was breathing harshly, his gaze unfocused, and he reached to grab his face between his palms and turn him towards him. “You’re going to be alright, Miros. I’ve got you. What were you thinking?”

Miros breathed in. “I was thinking…” he exhaled, shakily. “I couldn’t let the King die.”

Nikolai shook his head, laughing although he didn’t find it humorous. “Saints, you really are stupid. Second prince, remember?”

Miros lifted a trembling hand and patted Nikolai’s cheek, as if he were the stupid child. His fingertips felt cold against his skin. “I know what I said.” He chuckled. “Saints, it’s freezing out here.”

“You’re losing a lot of blood.” Nikolai’s voice shook. He wouldn’t make it. Saints, he wouldn’t make it.

“That must be it.” Miros hummed. “Hey, Kolya, can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“First,” Miros pulled his hand away from Nikolai’s face and lifted a trembling finger, “remember to leave a chair for me at your wedding with your dream boy. I’ll come haunt you on your wedding night if you don’t.”

Nikolai laughed again, although, this time, it sounded hollow. “Of course.” He felt the tears prickle behind his eyes. “What else?”

Miros lifted a second finger. “Second, take care of my Ma for me. She’s all I’ve left. And tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t give her the grandkids I promised her. Don’t tell her about my indiscretions, though.”

Nikolai nodded, his tears already flowing down his face. “Is that all?”

Miros grinned. He looked pale, his life nearing its end. “And, last but not least important,” he lifted a third finger, then grabbed Nikolai’s shoulder with the firmness of a man still on his prime, “may Ravka reach its golden age of prosperity under your reign, moi Tsar.” He let his eyes close as he kept that ridiculously boyish grin plastered on his face. “I’ve got my hopes on you, Kolya.”

Miros’s hand dropped limp.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Inej had no idea how they made it to this place. She was certain that Tante Heleen would be furious once she found Inej —because she would find her. She knew she would. It was a fear deeply settled into her bones. She wouldn’t kill her. No. Death would mean escape; death would mean Heleen’s profit margins would drop until she found another Suli girl to fill Inej’s place as the Lynx.

Kaz was pale. Too pale. He had endured the blood lost for too long and Inej was terrified that, despite her efforts, Knyaz Sol would die in the streets of Ketterdam. She would have defied Heleen Van Houden for nothing.

Inej knew how to treat wounds, but not like this. Not a cut this deep and not while she didn’t have anything to stitch him with.

“Kaz.” Her voice was shaking. She didn’t dare touch him. Not after how he flinched away from her touch, the same way Inej had after her first night with a client. The same way other new girls flinched come morning after their virginity was taken by force. “Kaz, stay awake,” she begged. “I need you to do something for me.”

Kaz groaned, eyes barely fluttering. He tried to push himself on the wall, so he wouldn’t slip down more. “What’d you need?” He croaked.

“Light,” she said quickly. “Summon light.” At his slightly furrowed brow, she added. “Like the one you used to burn that man’s face.”

“You saw that?” He slurred.

“Please, Kaz.”

He took a shaky breath. His hand was trembling as he lifted it, palm looking up. A tiny, oh so tiny, ball of light flickered to life and it settled on his palm. Inej saw sweat bead down his forehead as he willed the life to reshape itself into a flat form.

“Alright, good. It’ll have to do. I— I’m going to have to touch you for a moment, Kaz.”

He nodded curtly, still holding out his hand. “Just make it quick.”

Inej nodded, then felt stupid because Kaz still had his eyes closed. “Of course.” Inej quickly pulled of part of her coat so she could press the sleeve near his lips. “Bite this. It’ll hurt and I don’t want you to bite off your tongue.”

Weakly, Kaz parted his lips and let Inej shove the fabric into his mouth. He gagged for a second, the light flickering, but it had been a mere scare.

Inej pulled up Kaz’s shirt, so the fabric wouldn’t be on the way. There was too much blood. Hygienic or not, Inej wiped most of it with the edge of the coat.

She gave him an apologetic look he couldn’t see.

Then, as fast as she could, grabbed the back of his hand and slammed his palm against the open wound.

Kaz’s scream was muffled by the coat.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The whole country mourned Kazik’s death. Os Alta’s streets were quiet. Quiet enough Nikolai could still pretend to hear Kazik’s laugh echoing down the corridors or calling his name on the distance.

What a fool had he been to think he could leave and Kazik would be here waiting for him to return. He’d been arrogant. Too ambitious. He was a reckless bastard.

Then let’s go together! Let’s leave and never come back.

He should have listened to him.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Inej laid down on her bed at the Menagerie, looking at the ceiling, with Kaz sprawled across with ample distance between them and a bag of chocolates settled in between.

“I hate Ketterdam,” Kaz muttered as he popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth. “I always thought Da was exaggerating when he said this place was a den of vice, filth and sin, but I reckon he was missing a whole lot of adjectives on his tirades.”

Inej hummed, savouring the chocolate in her mouth. “I knew of Ketterdam because my Uncle sometimes spoke of taking a holiday here someday.”

“If you’re a tourist, I suppose Ketterdam isn’t that bad,” Kaz rasped. “Gambling everywhere, street entertainers at every corner, fancy architecture, legal prostitution.” As he spoke, he took another piece of chocolate, held out his hands, passed the chocolate between his fingers and then slapped them together. He pulled his hands apart and the chocolate fell on his face.

Inej snickered whilst Kaz scowled.

“I still can’t get it,” he grumbled. He picked up the piece and put it in his mouth.

“You’ll get there eventually,” Inej comforted him with a smile.

“Yeah, right.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

If anybody asked, it was Kazik’s idea. If the Darkling asked, though, it was all Nikolai’s fault.

Regardless, Kazik and Nikolai were having a blast hiding on the Little Palace’s roof and dropping snowballs atop people’s heads.

Fedyor and Ivan were currently chatting within snowball dropping distance.

Nikolai was holding his snowball and aiming it when Kazik grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back.

Nikolai looked at him, head cocked curiously. “What is it?”

Kazik’s grin was evil. He was grinning like an absolute criminal mastermind that had just thought of the greatest international hit of the century. “Help me make a bigger one.”

Nikolai’s responding grin was just as, if not worse, than Kazik’s.

The snow boulder they had built was so big that they both needed to hold it and they couldn’t dangle it over the edge.

“On the count of three,” Kazik said, to which Nikolai nodded.

“One…” They swung their ball, building momentum.

“Two…” Kazik snickered.

Nikolai chuckled. “Three!”

They simultaneously let go of the snow boulder. They waited for the sound of a choked gasp and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

They dropped to their stomachs and peered over the edge with the most delighted smirks like they were oh so proud of themselves —because they were incredibly proud of themselves.

Their smiles fell right out of their faces.

Lying face down on the ground, completely covered in snow, was the Darkling. Kneeling next to him, was Fedyor, with a horrified expression, shaking his shoulder. Ivan was looking up at them, his mouth hung open with surprise and bafflement.

Slowly, the Darkling pushed himself up and around, to glare straight at them.

Kaz and Nikolai ducked away from the edge. They curled over the snow looking at each other, then winced when they heard the Darkling furiously roar Kazik’s name.

Nikolai extended his hand. “It’s been great knowing you.”

Kazik shook his hand, then started crying and jumped for Nikolai to hug him while he cried.

They’d been twelve, then. Twelve-year-olds that were foolish, stupid, and far less reckless than they’d been when they grew up.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The Earth had been the first to know of Knyaz Sol’s demise. It trembled, feeling a disturbance in the balance of the Small Science; the natural order of things had worked so hard to rebalance itself, only for the Darkness to punish it for it.

The Fold had laughed at the people’s sorrow. Your Sankt is dead! It roared with delight. Your Sankt is dead and I was who killed him. I fed on His power and I’ve grown stronger. Fear me. Despise me. Keep praying for my doom. Keep sheeding your tears for your Little Sun Saint, for his soul will never know peace. I’ve made sure of that.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Aleksander sat on the floor next to Baghra. The heat of the fire was suffocating, but not nearly as suffocating as the despair clawing on his chest. Aleksander was leaning against her side while she sat on her stool, his half empty bottle of kvass resting on his lap. He looked into the flames as Baghra ran her fingers through his hair, that soft comforting touch she’d used when he was a little boy; a touch he hadn’t experienced in centuries.

They didn’t speak at all. He’d been shocked that Baghra had even allowed him to stay here and drink himself half-stupid.

Baghra’s eyes were empty, staring past the fire, with dark circles under her eyes.

Aleksander could still hear his voice. His laughter. His whining and pouting when Aleksander didn’t allow for him to gorge himself with sweets at any time of the day. He was haunted by the day he’d taught him the Cut. The surge of excitement when Kazimir had been able to form it and strike. The overwhelming pride that had inundated Aleksander’s bones.

He’d been stupid when he allowed Kazimir to fraternize with Sobachka. He should have ripped the weed at root before it had the chance to spread. He’d allowed for his son to be influenced by that bastard and look what happened. He’d seduced him. He’d tricked him. He’d taken his innocence and tainted him. And, worst of all, Kazimir was dead and Nikolai Lantsov lived.

He should kill him. He would kill him. He needed to kill him to rectify his mistakes.

Baghra’s hand on his hair stilled. “Your son is dead,” she said, her voice shaking with rage, pulling Aleksander out of his thoughts, “and you’re planning on spilling more blood?”

Aleksander blinked, a little dazed and not thinking very clearly, then looked up at her.

Baghra was still looking at the fire. Her hand closed into a fist, tugging at Aleksander’s hair. He hissed and tried to pull away to no avail.

“Let go of me,” he slurred. Saints, he was so drunk.

“His entire life ahead of him,” Baghra’s spat, tears flowing down her face. “He could have lived for centuries.”

Aleksander ripped himself out of her hold. His bottle of kvass spilled on the floor and he stumbled to his feet. He was slouched, unsteady on his feet. “You think I don’t know that?” He yelled. “If it weren’t for that stupid otkazat’sya—”

Baghra rose suddenly, making Aleksander take a stumbling step back. “Oh, grow up, you arrogant child! That boy loved Kazimir. He was worse than all those zealots that worshiped the ground he walked on. And your son was so infatuated with him he couldn’t bear to stay away from him—”

Aleksander shook his head. “I should have never let him get close to him—”

“Your precious Fold was what killed my grandson, not his romantic life—”

Aleksander laughed drily. “What? Do you blame me, then?” He glared at her, daring her to confirm his claim.

Baghra’s reply was a slap that sobered him instantly. “Yes.” She hadn’t hesitated for a second. Didn’t think it for a moment or considered this situation to be much complex. “I love you because you’re my son, but I hate you because you created the very thing that killed my grandson.” She dug an accusing finger onto his chest and Aleksander flinched back. “You made the Volcra that destroyed him. You made sure they were such monstruous creatures that only fed on human flesh. You brought the Sun Summoner into the world to use and abuse, so the Saints punished you by taking the one thing you could actually bring yourself to genuinely love, so they made sure he was murdered by the mistake you were most proud of.”

Baghra was glaring at him with such venom and hatred Aleksander didn’t know how to react.

“I thought he would make you a better man,” Baghra continued, her anger fading from her face as she sunk back onto her stool. The fight had drained out of her, leaving her looking as old and exhausted as she really was. “Even after all these years, I never believed you were past redemption.” She buried her face into her hands. Her voice quivered with grief so deep it matched Aleksander’s own. “But, somehow, the person you want to punish, is the boy that loved your son so much he keeps desperately searching the Fold, thinking that, for some divine intervention, he could still be alive, and not the damn thing that killed him.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Kaz could have gone back home. He could have returned at any moment. He could have snuck onto a ship back to Ravka and then walk into a camp, get a Healer to tend to his leg and request he were transported back to Os Alta. He’d already killed the men that had jumped him and tried to have him burn alive with a bunch of bodies. Ketterdam was the most rotten city he’d ever been in. It was a place crawling with opportunistic criminals and even worse politicians and merch.

But he would have died in that alley if it weren’t for Inej.

Bless his weak heart, he couldn’t bear to leave her here.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

From within the Fold, something emerged. A creature that dragged itself through the sand; a monster the Volcra didn’t dare approach. They whimpered and cowered away when it bared its teeth and snarled at them. The Fold didn’t dare mock the demon crawling through kilometres of darkness until it emerged at the other side and was bathed in sunlight.

The monster stood on two legs, one broken and useless that brought it pain so profound it made it grit its teeth.

The monster gave the Fold one last terrifying glare from over its shoulder, then limped away as slow as Death’s approach.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Indentures were expensive. Incredibly expensive. They were traps and Heleen Van Houden made hers incredibly fucking expensive and impossible to break out of.

Kaz was making good money at the Emerald Palace, but it wasn’t much. He needed more. Way more than he was currently able to squeeze out. He didn’t understand the appeal of gambling. It was stupid. The people that claimed that gambling was ‘easy money’ were people buried in debts so grand even their great grandchildren would be indebted until the day they died.

Gambling was easy money if you understood the trick behind it. It was probability. To the incautious eye, chance was a game of luck and bluff, but Kaz recognized the reality. Chance was math and observation. Greed was a lure designed to make you fall deeper into the lie.

Kaz figured he’d won enough for today. His winnings were so significant even the dealer was eyeing him with mild irritation. He’d been able to walk away with seven thousand kruge to go directly into Inej’s indenture pay up fund. Five thousand was such an insignificant sum of money of all the debt that remained and the one Heleen kept piling up.

And, of course, that seven thousand did not include Kaz’s sweets and ‘I need food to survive out here’ tax.

A bouncer stopped him at the exit, a hand extended that almost touched his chest if Kaz hadn’t been so careful. “Rollins wants to see you.”

Kaz frowned down at the hand, then glared at the bouncer out of the corner of his eye. “Who?” He asked drily.

The bouncer wasn’t looking at him. He was staring right into the raised section of the den. The place where the people with a bit more money gambled and drank more expensive whiskey and kept throwing money at the table because they liked to see kruge burn.

There was a table with cushioned velvet seats that were imbedded into the floor and the wall. In it, there was a man dressed in what Kaz had come to understand was ‘Barrel Flash’. With stripped trousers, a mossy paisley vest and a tie to match, and his fingers were crawling with golden rings. He seemed to be kaelish or from kaelish descend. A lit cigar hung between two of his fingers. He was set in the middle of the long seat, surrounded by men dressed even more jarring than him.

The man puffed a cloud of smoke and waved two fingers, beckoning Kaz forward.

Kaz narrowed his eyes.

“Pekka Rollins,” the bouncer clarified.

Kaz still had no idea of who that guy was supposed to be.

He gave the bouncer a long considering look. “And what happens if I don’t go?”

The bouncer grinned. “You might want to consider if you’d rather keep being a cripple or you’d be fine living the rest of your days confined to your bed.”

Kaz noticed the bouncer reach into his back pocket in a very quiet warning.

He backed away from the exit and he began limping towards this so called Pekka Rollins.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Ketterdam had a new harbour. Rather, someone had paid up a hefty sum to fix up Fifth Harbour and it became a gold mine.

Nikolai didn’t particularly care about it.

He just wanted to collect some supplies and be done with this place.

“I think you need a break,” Tamar said.

Nikolai hummed in acknowledgment. “What makes you say so?”

“You seem a little… off,” Tolya explained softly.

Tamar nodded. “What’s wrong, Sturmhond?”

Nikolai sighed, leaning back on his chair and looking out the window. Kazik’s birthday was close. The day when he’d lost him forever. Ketterdam was all gray skies and cold weather. Not cold like Ravka, but cold enough to be a bother. Life had become dull and gloomy, just like this city. Perhaps that was why the inhabitants of Ketterdam were so miserable. They didn’t get to see the sun shine brightly in the sky very often. At least they could see it sometime, Nikolai considered bitterly, not like him whose Sun had extinguished long ago.

“It’s just that time of the year,” he said with a vague hand gesture. “Can’t help but feel a little gloomier.”

Tolya and Tamar shared a look Nikolai didn’t appreciate.

“You know,” Tamar began saying, “since Fifth Harbour got all fixed up, a lot more people are going into the Barrel.”

Tolya nodded. “A lot of tourists are having the time of their lives.”

“A lot of street performers.”

“And gambling dens.”

“Dens with good liquor.”

Nikolai rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and pointer. “You two are trying to distract me, are you not?”

Tamar grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

Tolya smiled, although he was a little more apologetic. “At least consider it.”

Nikolai took a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s see what the Barrel has to offer.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Nina had a weird feeling about this.

So far, her stay in Ketterdam had been… A ride, if she was honest. The court stuff about Matthias had her dizzy and made her want to scream until her voice went raw and then Pekka Rollins and the Dime Lions wanted to employ her. It was good money, in comparison to the nothing she had on her pockets that should have been used to take her back to Ravka.

She was a soldier, for Saints’ sake. She was strong, capable, brave and, fine, she could recognize it, a little reckless and arrogant, but she had very valid reasons to be. Because, for starters, she was a damn good spy and a damn good soldier.

This deal Kaz Brekker offered was good. Not too good to be true, but good enough it felt real in a way Pekka Rollin’s offer hadn’t been.

Now Nina was following Inej as they silently moved through the dark back streets of the Barrel. Far from the Emerald Palace.

A man was waiting for them when they rounded the corner. He was tall, dressed in a black suit and black coat, with pale skin, sharp features and scars on his face. One across his lips, one over his eyebrow and the other running a line through. He had a hat that shadowed his eyes. He was leaning against the wall, a cane with a silver crow head held on one black leathered covered hand and in the other he held up a watch he was looking at.

Nina froze, looking at him wide eyed.

Inej kept on walking towards him.

Kaz Brekker let out a pleased hum. “Always so punctual, Wraith,” he mused. His voice was raspy, like the grind of gravel into fine dust. He slipped the watch into his vest pocket and peeled himself off the wall. “Let’s go. We have to get back to the Slat before Rollins realizes his new acquisition escaped.” He strode forward, one of his leg following stiffly, so he used the cane as support.

Inej began following, but after a few steps, she noticed Nina wasn’t following, so she gave her a confused look from over her shoulder. “Are you alright, Nina?”

Brekker stopped and turned back. He lifted a single eyebrow, a gesture she’d seen him do a hundred times, but it looked so strange now.

Nina had paled, her mouth opened stupidly. “You’re alive?” She asked, even more stupidly.

Brekker’s eyebrow went up higher. “No,” he said drily. “I’m a manifestation of your subconscious while you slowly bleed out.”

“How are you even alive?” Nina repeated, aghast. “We thought the Volcra devoured you.”

Inej gave Brekker a strange look. “You actually went into the Fold?”

He shrugged one shoulder, apathetically. “I had to cross somehow,” he rasped.

“How are you not dead?” Nina questioned. “Prince Nikolai—”

Brekker’s face darkened. His expression didn’t change, but the shadows of his face moved in a manner that made him look much more dangerous and menacing. It was so unlike the Sun Prince Nina knew she was shutting her mouth real fast.

“Never say that name near me again,” Knyaz Sol warned, his voice cold and unforgiving. “I’m warning you, Nina Zenik.”

Nina wanted to scream.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Turns out, someone had noticed Kaz was too good at gambling. Dealers remembered his face and his limp, so they’d gone to Pekka about it.

Pekka demanded the money Kaz had earned that night back, plus interest.

Kaz grinned and said. “Go fuck yourself.”

Pekka’s men dragged him outside, just so they could beat him up away from witnesses.

Kaz was kneeling on the floor, the men grabbing him by the arms and holding his head up by the hair. His lip was busted, bleeding profusely. He glared up at Pekka.

Pekka merely glanced down at him, his lips curled in a satisfied smirk. “Let’s say this was your first warning.” He flicked his cigar over Kaz’s head, ash falling on his face and into his eyes. “Only ‘cause I feel merciful enough and I still want my money back.”

Kaz laughed drily. “What makes you think I haven’t spent it already?”

Pekka gave him a once over. “Well, if that’s the case, then I think you’d have to repay me some other way. Say, how soon could you pay a one hundred thousand indenture?”

Kaz snarled and tried to jerk forward, but the men had him in a grip so tight it was bruising. “You must be out of your fucking mind,” he spat. “I’ve barely gotten sixty thousand from the tables.”

Pekka’s smirk turned into a smug grin. “So, you were saving it up.”

Kaz just glared at him, nostrils flared.

Pekka had gotten to the end of his cigar, so he flicked the tail away and it fell to the cobblestones. “Listen, kid, I’ll make you a deal. If you take my men to whatever spot you’ve chosen to hide my money, I’ll let you walk away with your life.”

“If I refuse, then what?”

Pekka chuckled. “Well, if you refuse, I’ll chop off your pinky finger, make you sign an indenture and work you like a dog until the day you die.”

Kaz frowned slightly. “Why my pinky?”

Pekka looked amused by that question. He leaned forward to give Kaz’s face a better look. He backed away, snickering. “You’re serious…” He threw his head back and laughed. “Saints, that’s hilarious.” He pretended to clean a tear off his face. “Doughty, make sure the boy takes you to his hideout and gives you the money and everything of value he has.”

When Pekka turned and began to walk away, his men rounded on Kaz for another beating. They didn’t stop until Kaz agreed to tell them where he was staying at.

Kaz was wheezing on the floor, curled into himself. He coughed and it sounded wet and heaving. He couldn’t open his eyes nearly enough to see how many of these criminals were still around nor how long he’d been down.

He heard them leave, then come back, then their laughter and then they left him there.

They’d taken all the money Kaz had saved for Inej’s indenture and they were so fucking proud of it.

Kaz let out a shaky breath, then tried to push himself up.

If Botkin saw him, he would shake his head in disappointment. Did Botkin not teach Sol good or did Sol not learn good?

It was six men ganging up on me, Kaz screamed mentally. I’ve got a limp. I can’t fight nearly as good as I used to.

Then you get better, Botkin said, as if it were obvious. Limp no excuse for mediocre fighting skills. A good fight always until last breath. You don’t give up, not even when you dead.

He hated how right his mental Botkin was.

Kaz gritted his teeth as he hauled himself to his feet.

This was the last time this rotten city got the better of him.

Pekka Rollins, Heleen Van Houden, whoever else dared to stand in his way, Kaz would destroy them all.

Brick by brick.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The monster travelled across the True Sea, hidden under the shadows of the waves and it fed on the bloodshed pirate ships left behind.

It was hungry. Starving for innocent souls.

The monster made its way to Ketterdam’s coasts.

The Council of Tides were ignorant to the danger encircling their territory.

The monster toppled Reaper’s Barge and fed on the rotten flesh of the corpses until it got sick and vomited what it had eaten.

On the docks, it hauled itself up to dry land. It stood in the dark, marvelling at the streets of Ketterdam. The smell of death and violence called to it.

This will become my Kingdom, the monster announced. Whatever peace they believed to have; it will soon come to an end.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Inej heard the whispers. The frequent clients and the new gossiped before they got their taste of fun.

She listened to all of it.

Dirtyhands was an up-and-coming criminal. A man so rotten and greedy he would do anything for money. Dirtyhands wasn’t a human, he was a creature born from the worst the Barrel had to offer. Dirtyhands was a mastermind; there wasn’t a game he couldn’t win.

Dirtyhands had joined the Dregs.

The Dregs were becoming something fearsome because of Dirtyhands.

For months, a year, maybe longer, Inej kept hearing of Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel.

Kaz kept showing up occasionally. Paying for Inej’s time so she could be safe for a night.

Every time he appeared; he was different. He stopped practicing his magic tricks. He stopped gorging himself on sweets and gave them all to Inej. He stopped smiling as often. The light behind his eyes faded each time more and more, until it was replaced with something much darker and sinister.

Inej saw in flashes how whatever was left of Knyaz Sol was taken and reshaped by Dirtyhands himself.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Nikolai got sick of the tables almost immediately, so he moved to the bar.

“You’ve got any good rum?” He asked the bartender as he sat on a stool.

The woman gave him a considering look, pulled out a glass and a bottle from under the bar and served right in front of him.

He reached for the glass. “Thanks.” He took a sip.

Colour him surprised, it was actually good rum.

A tall zemeni man sunk onto the stool next to Nikolai. “Anika, give me a glass of whatever you have.”

Nikolai glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The man was dressed in typical Barrel flash, although the colours clashed terribly with one another. He had a pink vest, yellow tie and orange stripped trousers and, on top, a green patterned coat. He was sitting sideways on the stool, an ankle over his knee, so he could support an elbow on the bar and then rest his chin on his palm. His fingers glittered with silver rings.

The woman, who Nikolai understood was named Anika, eyed the man from head to toe. “You seem to be in one piece.” Regardless, she took out a glass and filled it with rum.

The man sighed as he reached with his free hand for the glass of rum. “It was an exhausting night.” He took a long sip of the glass, frowned, then pulled it away, savouring it. “What is this?”

Anika leaned her elbows on the bar in front of the man. “Rum,” she said plainly.

The man nodded. “Yes, I figured it was rum, but what kind of rum is this? You’ve never served this to me.”

“‘Cause it’s expensive as shit,” Anika explained.

The man pressed his lips into a thin line. “How expensive?”

“Expensive enough Kaz told me to, and I quote,” the woman cleared her throat and, making her voice deeper and sounding gravelly, said, “‘This rum is for paying customers only. Do not, and I mean this Anika, do not open this bottle unless a pigeon specifically requests it’.”

The man snorted. “Well, thanks to whoever dumb pigeon was willing to order this delightful expensive rum.” He lifted his glass.

Anika opened her mouth to, Nikolai presumed, let him know that the ‘dumb pigeon’ was sitting right next to him.

Nikolai decided to clank his glass to the man’s. “You’re welcome.”

Anika snorted while the man whipped his head to Nikolai, looking shocked.

The man straightened and chuckled awkwardly. “I didn’t mean anything bad,” he began, stopped himself, took another swig of his glass of rum. He cleared his throat and extended his free hand. “Jesper Fahey.”

Nikolai smiled as he shook his hand. “Sturmhond. Pleasure to meet you.”

Anika blinked, shocked. “The pirate?” She exclaimed.

Nikolai took a deep breath. “Privateer, actually,” he muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

Jesper looked at his own glass, then back at him. “Don’t pirates love rum?”

“All sailors do,” Nikolai explained with a wink. “Common misconception.”

“I see.” Jesper grinned. He nudged himself a little closer to Nikolai. “Say, what brings a privateer of your calibre to the Crow Club?”

Indeed, why did Nikolai come here? Truth be told, he would have entered the first gambling den he found, but Tolya and Tamar forced him to explore East Stave until they heard word of how this place had ‘the good booze and better chances to make it rich’.

Nikolai twirled his drink. “Distraction,” he said simply.

Anika looked over at the room, stiffened, then immediately ducked across the bar to attend to another customer, leaving the bottle of rum within reach.

Jesper’s grin widened, completely unaware of Anika’s sudden disappearance. “Then, let me tell you, you’ve come to the right place. Looking for company or just planning on getting drunk?”

Nikolai hummed thoughtfully. “Drunk, mainly, although I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Jesper raised his glass towards Nikolai. “Cheers.”

Nikolai clanked his glass against Jesper’s once more, then they both swallowed the remainder of their glasses.

“Hey, Anika,” Jesper exclaimed, leaning over the bar to get Anika’s attention. She was very busy pretending he didn’t exist. “Mind if I just—?” He gestured towards the bottle, fingers wrapping over the neck.

“You better, not Jes,” a voice behind them spoke, raspy like the sound of stone against stone.

Both Nikolai and Jesper stiffened and turned towards the voice.

Nikolai’s glass slipped from his fingers and fell on the bar with a loud bang.

He was dressed in black, with the suit of a proper merch. His hair wasn’t long and slicked back in a manner similar to the Darkling’s, but it was shaved at the sides. His face looked sharper, and paler. More menacing. No longer the sweet, handsome prince of the sun. He had scars; on his lips, his eyebrow, across his face.

But the eyes were still the same. Deep and vibrant, like a charged cup of coffee strong enough to keep him awake for three days straight. Eyes that were capable of observing his deepest, darkest, most vulnerable fears. Eyes that were capable of glaring and leave you frozen and defenceless, waiting for death to strike.

He was alive.

Kazik’s lips were contorted into a scowl and he was glaring straight at Jesper. “Why the hell are you drinking my expensive rum, Jesper?” His voice was wrong. Something had changed. It didn’t used to sound like this. But Nikolai could hear the old one still there. That deep and smooth voice like velvet was trapped behind the rasp.

Jesper stammered. “I wasn’t— It’s just a misunderstanding, really! My friend Sturmhond here is the one who actually ordered the bottle and he got me a glass—”

“Shut up, Jesper,” Kazik snarled.

Jesper flinched and, promptly, shut up.

“Kazik,” Nikolai breathed.

They both whipped their heads towards him.

Kazik looked at him, and, Saints, did it hurt to watch his face. Kazik had always been so expressive, but now? Nikolai had to strain to discern the shock on his face. His eyes had barely widened and his brow was still furrowed. But he looked closer, more carefully. He watched Kazik’s eyes search his face, his frown deepening.

Until he realized.

“Nikolai?” Kazik’s whisper was barely audible.

Jesper looked between them. “You two know each other?”

Nikolai had expected tears after the realization. It was what he would have done before. Even Nikolai himself wanted to break down sobbing.

But then Kazik was stepping forward, a snarl leaving his lips. He pushed him back against the bar. Before he realized, he was pressing his cane against Nikolai’s windpipe. Instinctively, Nikolai grabbed the stick and tried to push back to no avail.

“Saints, Kaz!” Jesper exclaimed, jumping out of the stool. It fell to the floor with a loud bang that echoed in the room.

There were no tears in Kazik’s eyes nor threatening to spill. His face was contorted with rage. Pure and absolute to a degree he had never witnessed him hold.

“Now you have the nerve to show up,” Kazik growled, pressing down harder. An incredulous laugh bubbled out of his throat, although it sounded manic. “Now you are fucking capable of showing up, aren’t you?”

Nikolai parted his lips and a choking noise escaped him.

It didn’t soften Kazik’s rage. In fact, it made him smile. A sick, rotten and twisted smile. The smile that was natural in the kind of man that found pleasure on other’s misfortune.

“Sturmhond,” he murmured. “That’s what you were doing? While I sat on the steps, waiting like a stupid dog for its owner to come back, you were playing sailor?”

Dark spots were dancing on Nikolai’s vision. He parted his lips to try to explain himself. He didn’t mean to lie. He genuinely wasn’t lying to him. He never lied. Not to him. Not when he stared at him dead in the eye with his lips pursed into a pout. He never could bring himself to lie. He told him about the apprenticeships, about Ketterdam’s University. Everything he planned to do so he could strengthen his position as a possible heir to steal the Crown from Vasily. He told him that last night they spent together, tangled and clinging to each other. With Kazik nuzzled against his chest and Nikolai inhaling the aroma of his shampoo mixed with sweat.

“Kaz,” Jesper whispered, looking around in panic. “Kaz, the pigeons are watching—”

“Let them,” Kazik spat. “I don’t fucking…” His eyelids became droopy and his hold went slack. Nikolai managed to gasp, then coughed as he struggled to breathe. “Care…” He slurred.

Then he was collapsing.

Nikolai acted on instinct.

The cane clattered to the floor, the noise loud like thunder in the sudden quiet.

Nikolai was holding Kaz against his chest, his face nuzzled on the curve of his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his waist to steady him and the other cradling the back of his head.

He held him on his arms. Warm, alive, breathing softly as he remained unconscious.

He made eye contact with Tolya across the room just when he was dropping his hands, then his eyes flickered to Tamar, who had begun to rise when she noticed the men rushing towards them. To their utter bafflement, Nikolai shook his head.

The rest of the people on the tables were rising and murmuring, clearly very interested in the scene. The nervous and the anxious were taking their stuff and scurrying away before an even worse fight got the chance to break out.

He felt the press of a gun barrel against the side of his head, then the press of steel on his back. He watched the men grab Tolya and Tamar and began dragging them away as others began marching towards the bar. Behind him, the bartender, Anika, was pressing the tip of a knife against his spine.

Jesper was eyeing him with wariness, as if Nikolai was a danger he hadn’t seen coming, a revolver with a pearl handle settled on his hand. But there was a confused glint in his eye. If Nikolai was a danger to Kazik, why was he holding him like he was precious? “Let go of him. Now.”

Nikolai hugged Kazik tighter against him.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Kaz had been surprised when he heard the news of his death. So had been Inej, for that matter. He’d heard the news as he was traversing Little Ravka to purchase his bag of sweets. He figured it would be something fun to bring up once at Inej’s room in the Menagerie, but she had beaten him to the punch.

“Word is that you died,” she said through a mouthful of chocolate. “That’s what they’re saying in Ravka, at least.”

Kaz frowned, pensive. “Well, I almost did die,” he muttered. On the Fold, actually, before that beating those men gave him after he confronted that fake Nikolai. He gave his bad leg a disgruntled glare. If it weren’t for those Volcra swarming him and getting his leg broken, he wouldn’t have been overwhelmed by those lousy street criminals and he wouldn’t have been taken to—

The waves roared in his ears.

He shook his head to dissipate the memory.

Inej hummed. “I take they don’t know you’re here.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I wouldn’t still be here if they did, would I?”

“You could go to the Ravkan embassy,” she said. “Tell them you’re alive and—”

He scoffed. “Go away and leave you here? I don’t think so.”

Inej insisted. “It’s not safe for you to remain here.”

Kaz scowled. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Don’t you miss your family?” Inej snapped. “Your home? You could go back. If I had the chance to leave, I would take it without hesitation.”

Kaz barked out a humourless laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Yes!” She yelled; her face contorted in righteous indignation.

Kaz turned his head to face Inej. “So, if I were the one trapped here, would you leave me to die?”

“That’s different,” Inej insisted. “You are Knyaz Sol, the Sun Prince—”

Kaz grinned, like a little shit. “Oh, so you’re saying your Prince of the Sun is wrong, then?” He cooed. “Are you claiming to be more morally correct than the Sun Saint?”

Inej sputtered. “I did not say that—”

“Then stop insisting I leave you here, because that’s not happening.” Suddenly, he snatched the bag of sweets from the bed and flopped sideways into it, curling around the bag to keep it out of Inej’s reach.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, angrily slapping her hand on the bed. “Give those back!” Regardless, she made no attempt to inch closer or to try to steal them away.

“Self-sacrificing Suli girls don’t get treats,” Kaz struggled to reply through the fistful of chocolates he shoved into his mouth.

“How old are you again?”

“Older than you!”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The men had dragged them to one of the private game rooms in the back. Nikolai, Tolya and Tamar had been brought to their knees, hands tied behind their backs, while they waited.

They were being watched by Jesper and the other men.

Nikolai, on the other hand, was watching Kazik intently. He was sprawled on the dealer’s seat and his face slumped over the table. His breathing was still easy and relaxed, still very profoundly asleep.

Nikolai heard the door open and close.

“Care to elaborate on what happened?” A female voice behind them said.

Then she was stepping into view, coming from around so she could block Kazik from Nikolai’s sight.

Nikolai looked up at her.

She was a Suli girl, with long black hair in a long braid that hung over her shoulder. She was dressed in a dark tunic and quilted vest, with various knives strapped to her body. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she looked down at Nikolai with narrowed eyes.

Nikolai frowned slightly. He’d seen her somewhere before.

“Honestly, I’ve no idea,” Jesper said. Tucked under his arm, was the very cane Kazik had used to choke Nikolai. “Kaz saw him and went mental, then he dropped like a stone out of nowhere.”

“Not out of nowhere,” one of the men explained. He stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Tolya’s hair and yanked him back, so his throat would be exposed, that way, it’d be easier for someone else to step in and slit his throat. “A Grisha corporalki sneaked in here.” He shoved Tolya’s head down and backed off. “He saw his friend was in danger and decided to attack Dirtyhands in his own turf.”

Tolya kept his head down for a moment, forcing his breathing to remain calm, then lifted his chin. He stared at the Suli woman. “He attacked our captain first,” he said, tone serene, “for that alone, I should have killed him. He should be grateful I was feeling merciful.”

The Suli woman’s eyes hardened. Suddenly, her fist did a low arch and collided with Tolya’s face. The hit had been sudden and surprising enough it sent him tumbling to the floor. Tolya allowed himself to be shocked as he stared up at her.

Tamar snarled. “As soon as I free myself, I’ll chop off your hand,” she vowed.

Nikolai noticed movement behind the woman. Then a groan followed.

The Suli woman turned, allowing Nikolai to see Kazik slowly lift his head from the table, a gloved hand pressed over his forehead.

“What the hell just happened?” He rasped. He sounded groggy, as if he’d just woken up from a very long night of sleep.

“Glad to see you still alive, Kaz,” the woman said.

Kazik opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment. “Inej,” he said in lieu of greeting, then his eyes travelled through everyone present, stopping for a long moment on Nikolai, then they flickered towards Jesper. He held out a gloved hand. “My cane.”

Jesper straightened and crossed the room with long steps. “Here you go, boss.”

Kazik took the cane, careful of not brushing against Jesper’s fingers, then hauled himself up. “I want all of you out.”

The woman, whose name seemed to be Inej, crossed her arms and looked at him. Hard. Around them, the other men left the room, avoiding to look Kazik in the eye and shuffling their feet. If they were disappointed they didn’t get to see the bloodshed, it showed.

Kazik did not look in her direction. He sighed. “I assumed ‘except Inej’ went unspoken.”

“A clarification never hurts,” she replied simply.

Jesper raised a hand. “Is ‘and you too, Jesper. Because you’re the handsomest and most trustworthy and my most loyal second’ also implied?”

Kazik glared at him. “No.”

“Out, Jes,” Inej insisted, although kindlier than Kazik.

Jesper sighed. “Fine, fine,” he dismissed simply. He walked towards the door, dragging his feet. Before leaving, he turned and pointed a finger at Kazik. “If you need backup—”

“Jesper,” Kazik snapped.

“Going!” He exclaimed, then rushed out the door.

Silence settled into the room. Thick and heavy. Suffocating. Nikolai didn’t dare speak. He just looked at Kazik. At his posture, the hard lines of his face. Something had changed him fundamentally. This city swallowed him and, what, emerged, was this.

Dirtyhands. That was what one of the men had called him. Ketterdam was infamous because of its crime. Where other places had rats, insects or other types of plague, here, they had gangs. They were the worst kind of vermin. The kind that looked human and spoke just like they did; smart enough to know the difference between despicable and apprehensible and not give a care of it. More often than not, the worst kind of criminals were the ones that had titles or aliases. It meant they were recognizable. Fearsome. It meant they had tales attached that justified their name.

Nikolai’s eyes sharpened on Kazik’s hands. Black leather gloves. An interesting fashion choise. Slender and pale fingers, skilled to match his cleverness and wit to summon and manipulate light, now covered by thick leather.

Kazik walked around the table, his steps slightly off rhythm. With a dawning horror, Nikolai’s eyes focused on his leg, stiff and dragging behind the other. The crow headed cane supporting the weight it couldn’t bear.

“What happened to you?” Nikolai said before he could help himself. He felt angry. Furious. Someone in this city had done this to him. They’d hurt him. Scarred him. Left him disabled.

Kazik snarled at him. “Oh, you didn’t hear?” He limped over to them. He stood in front of Nikolai, Inej standing at his side as support casted in shadows. “I died.” Kazik grinned, rotten and venomous. That was nothing like his mischievous grin that made Nikolai’s heart flutter. “It was so tragic and gruesome. The Volcra swarmed me from all sides, ripping and tearing at me with its teeth and claws as they screamed how hungry they were.”

Nikolai felt tears prick behind his eyes. He shook his head, trying to force the emotions back. “Kazik, I—”

“Shut the hell up,” Kazik barked. Nikolai flinched back. “Don’t you dare call me that. You’ve lost that right the moment I came to this fucking city and found your little replacement.”

The blood left Nikolai’s face. “It’s not— How did you—?”

Kazik laughed drily. “Isn’t it? Answer me this, then, did you or did you not hire a double to pretend to be you whilst you sailed across the True Sea?”

Nikolai felt the panic claw at his throat. “I did, but it wasn’t like that—”

“You lied,” Kazik hissed. “Plain and simple.”

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Nikolai insisted. “Never to you. I swear, I did come to Ketterdam with the full intention of staying—”

“Cute,” Kazik deadpanned. “I can feel your sincerity melting my stone-cold heart.”

“Kazik, please—”

Kazik swung his cane in a low arch. The back of the crow head topper slammed against Nikolai’s stomach and it made him double over. He gasped, curled over himself as he tried to breathe normally again.

“I told you not to call me that again,” Kazik hissed. “There is no Kazik anymore. That stupid brat died in this city. He crawled his way out of the Fold, came here, and I murdered him with my bare hands.” Nikolai felt the beak of the crow head under his chin, tilting his head up so he could look at Kazik’s murderous grin. “And I enjoyed every second he cried for mercy.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Kaz slammed the door of his office as he stepped in. Then slipped the lock in place.

He didn’t want to be bothered right now. Not when there was a force pressing down on his chest that made him struggle to breath and with his hands shaking this much.

He limped across his office towards his bedroom. He made sure that door was also locked. He kept on, his bad leg dragging numbly, until he reached his bed and flopped down on it without bothering to undress or change clothes.

It was tough and uncomfortable. It was nothing like his bed back home, plush and soft like sleeping on clouds, nor like Nikolai’s mattress, where he fell in the most blissful sleep he ever had.

He kicked off his shoes, then curled on the bed. His cane rested on the wall opposite. He held his pillow close to his chest and ignored the sharp pain from his bad leg. The pain was better, actually, because it diverted his attention towards it instead of the memory of Nikolai’s face when Kaz kicked him out of the Crow Club.

He’d chocked him. He’d been so angry he tried to kill him.

If it weren’t for that heartrender, he might have actually killed him—

“Get out,” Kaz croaked.

Inej approached his bed as quiet as she knew how to be. Lighter than air. Softer than the summer breeze.

Carefully, she sat on the edge of his mattress. On the spot farthest from him.

“You know,” Inej said softly. “There is a saying—”

“More Suli wisdom?” Kaz mused, bitterly. “Oh, Inej, you shouldn’t have.”

Inej ignored his sarcasm. “The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true. My papa used to tell it to me every time we practiced to keep me motivated. Back then, he used to tell me that many boys would bring me flowers, but only one would remember my favourite one. He’d know my favourite flower, my favourite song, my favourite sweet. He would know me like nobody else in the world knows me.”

“I still don’t understand what the purpose of you telling me this is.”

“I think you do know,” she insisted.

He laughed drily. “I assure you, I do not.”

“Your heart is aiming in one direction, Kaz,” she said softly. “And you’re punishing it by refusing to take it there.”

Kaz lifted his head to stare at her. His face was blank. Utterly empty, like he was forcing it to be. “I came here for him,” he rasped quietly. “I crossed the Fold on foot. The Volcra tried to kill me, but I escaped with only a broken leg, some scratches and bruises.” He laughed, although there was no humour on his voice. “I rushed here because I thought he didn’t come back because something bad happened to him.”

Inej cocked her head. “Didn’t it?”

Kaz shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. He hired an imposter to pretend to be him, so I came here for nothing.”

Inej shuffled on the bed, so she sat there in the corner with her legs crossed. “You said he lied to you.”

Kaz went very still. “Yes. He told me he enrolled on the University, but he didn’t. So, he lied.”

Inej shook her head. “No, that’s not it,” she said, as though she had actually been there that fucking day Nikolai whispered sweet lies into Kaz’s ear. “I don’t think that’s the lie you’re actually upset about.”

Kaz closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could not tell her. He didn’t owe her any honesty. Not like this. Not of this kind. They were friends, sure, but not— He didn’t want to remind himself of the boy he’d been before the Fold tore him open and Ketterdam finished him off. That boy was dead. He’d been dumped into Reaper’s Barge to die out at sea and, in its stead, he emerged from the prison of rotten flesh and broken bones.

He buried his face into his pillow. “He promised he would come back.” Kaz’s voice was weak, barely a murmur. Something broken and fragile that didn’t fit the Bastard of the Barrel. “Every time. He promised he would always come back to me.”

Inej paused, allowing the words to settle in the silence between them. She weighted them. Considered her reply before she spoke it.

She frowned as she said. “Did he really lie, though?”

Kaz snapped his head towards her. “What?” He demanded.

Inej was serious. “He came back to you, Kaz. When he thought you were in Ravka, he returned, but you weren’t there anymore. The world thought you were dead for years. He must have believed it too, because he looked at you as if he were seeing a ghost. He found you in Ketterdam, even if he didn’t mean to look for you in the first place. It took him a long time, but he did come back in the end.”

Kaz didn’t know what to say to that.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Nikolai was lying on his bed, gaze lost into empty space. Well, his eyes were looking in the direction of the wall, but they were unfocused.

He cushioned his head with his bended arm, whilst, with his other hand, he held Kazik’s shredded kefta against his chest. His fingers absentmindedly played with the loose bits of fabric as he gazed into nothing.

His throat ached.

He cleared it, still feeling the ghost sensation of the cane pressing against his windpipe and blocking his airway.

Saints, Kazik was alive. He was alive and he hated Nikolai. He hated him so much he was willing to kill him.

He closed his eyes, taking a sharp intake of breath. He didn’t know what was worst. To think Kazik dead and gone, never to see him again, or to know he still lived and wished to never laid eyes upon Nikolai ever again. To lose him forever or to lose him while still within reach.

He heard the door of his quarters click open, then close just as softly.

He didn’t bother to open his eyes as he said. “I told you I wanted to be alone,” he announced to either Tolya or Tamar. Or both. He couldn’t say for sure if they’d entered together or just one of them to try to comfort him or to remind him how stupid and hopeless he was.

He didn’t hear anything else. Not someone approach nor roaming around.

“Explain yourself,” a voice, raspy and low, said right next to Nikolai’s bed.

His eyes snapped open.

Kazik was standing there, hands resting atop his cane, and he looked down at Nikolai. His face was utterly blank. Nikolai couldn’t tell any anger lingering on his expression, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t angry still.

Slowly, Nikolai sat up on his bed. “How did you get past my crew?”

Kazik smirked and Nikolai’s heart gave a weak flutter. That smug and proud little smirk was one Nikolai thought he would need to die in order to see again. “I have my methods,” he said simply. His eyes flickered at the kefta in Nikolai’s hand and his brows furrowed. “What kind of pirate prince can’t afford a proper teddy?”

Nikolai looked down at the ragged kefta then back up at Kazik. “Don’t you recognize it?”

Kazik quirked up an eyebrow, a gesture so very similar to the Darkling. “Should I?”

Nikolai just offered it for him to take.

Kazik scoffed. “I don’t want your stupid rags—”

“Just look at it for a little bit. See if anything rings a bell.”

Kazik rolled his eyes, but snatched the kefta right out of Nikolai’s hand. His gloved thumb pulled at the fabric, as if he could distinguish the texture of the cloth through the leather. Then he turned it around, and he spotted the loose golden tread.

Kazik’s eyes widened in surprise.

Nikolai smiled weakly. “There it is,” he whispered.

Kazik set his cane against the bed just so he could free up his other hand to hold out the kefta. It unrolled to reveal the reminder of the shape it once had. A whole sleeve was missing, the other was half torn, the back had scratches that almost shredded it entirely and the front had chunks of cloth ripped away, explaining why the golden embroidery had started to come lose. Some parts of it were stiff with dried blood and grime Nikolai never attempted to wash off, fearing that any lingering essence of him would be washed with it or the kefta would be utterly ruined and not even able to be kept as a memento.

Kazik didn’t say anything. Nikolai just limited himself to watch his throat bob as he struggled to get the words out.

“How…?” Kazik hesitated, his voice low and shaky. “How did you…? I— I lost this in the— How did you even find it?”

“I searched,” Nikolai explained softly.

Kazik’s eyes snapped to him. His face contorted in bafflement. “The Fold?”

“Yeah, the Fold,” Nikolai agreed softly. Slowly, he turned on the bed so he could stand up next to Kazik. “I spent months searching it desperately because I kept telling myself that you couldn’t be dead. You had to still be alive there somewhere. Hiding, wounded, afraid, battered, hanging by a fragile thread. I never lost hope, until I found the kefta.”

Kazik looked up at him. When he first saw him, he looked taller. A clear reminder of how long it had been since he last saw him. Still, he wasn’t taller than Nikolai. Nikolai was standing in front of him and Kazik still had to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with it.

Nikolai swallowed. “I… I couldn’t sleep that night.” He chuckled, although very sadly. “I say, as if I’ve been able to know a blissful night of sleep ever since I left your side. I kept thinking of all the bones I encountered as I searched for you. It made me sick to think I must have passed your remains and didn’t recognize you.”

Kazik’s hands balled into fists while he still held onto the kefta. “Why did you lie to me?” He spat, that anger slipping back into his voice. Cold and sharp.

Nikolai took a step forward. “I didn’t mean to lie to you—” He lifted his hand to cup Kazik’s cheek.

Kazik jerked away before Nikolai even had the chance for their skin to brush. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

Nikolai flinched, taking a step back. He dropped his hands, hanging limply at his sides. “I’m sorry. I— I didn’t mean to upset you—”

Kazik laughed drily. “Just answer my question and keep your hands to yourself.”

Nikolai shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “That night, when you asked me to stay, I did plan on lying to you,” he admitted quietly. “I— That was why I kept trying to not look at you, because I knew, the moment I laid eyes upon you, everything would tumble out.” He laughed, although it sounded wounded and breathless. “And it did.” He opened his eyes and met Kazik’s glare set on. “I couldn’t keep it to myself. What I told you that night was my plan. To my family and the court, I told I was going to study in Ketterdam to broaden my horizons. To you, I told the truth. That I’ve lined up a few apprenticeships. That I would learn with them before going to the University and studying architecture and then engineering. All so I could become a better candidate to the throne.”

Kazik scoffed. “How is becoming a pirate helping you on that campaign?” He spat.

Nikolai laughed. “It isn’t,” he said. “But I am helping Ravka. As Sturmhond, I’m able to do so much more than Nikolai Lantsov ever could and much more freely.” He took a deep breath. “I realized that I care more about making Ravka a better place than I care to inherit the throne. But I didn’t come up with that plan until halfway through my apprenticeships.”

“That’s so noble of you,” Kazik said drily. “Truly. It certainly melts my stone-cold heart.”

Nikolai’s face twisted with pain. The emotional kind of pain. “Kazik—”

“Don’t call me that,” Kazik spat, throwing the kefta at Nikolai’s feet. “You lost that right years ago and that boy is lying in the very same place you found that trash.”

Nikolai stepped over the kefta to take a step closer to Kaz. “I was going to tell you,” he insisted. “When I got back to Ravka. I swear I was going to tell you—”

“You swear,” Kaz echoed, an incredulous look in his face. “That’s supposed to mean something to me? Because, last I checked,” he stepped into Nikolai’s space and shoved him back. Nikolai took a half tumbling step, “you broke your promise.”

“I know I was late.” Nikolai was becoming desperate. No matter what he said, how he tried to fix this, nothing was working. He passed his hands through his hair and he tugged at his hair, thinking that, somehow, the pain would ground him and help him in this mess of a situation he was suddenly in. He began pacing in that small space, far from Kazik, but not giving any indication of wanting to leave. “I know, but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t have gone back on time for more I wanted to and I forced myself to go as soon as I physically could. That’s why I sent you the letter, to apologize in advance—”

“What letter?” Kazik interrupted him.

Nikolai stopped dead on his tracks and whipped his head towards Kazik.

Kazik was in front of him. He grabbed Nikolai by the neck of his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall, making Nikolai hiss in pain. His face was twisted with a murderous expression that was just as baffled and confused.

“What are you talking about?” Kazik pressed. “What fucking letter?”

“I sent you a letter,” Nikolai began slowly. “It was supposed to arrive the day I was meant to come back to Ravka.” His brows furrowed as he looked at Kazik who, suddenly, had gone very, very still. “You… You never read my letter?” He asked, stupefied.

Kazik pressed his lips into a thin line. “I…” He hesitated. Slowly, he let go of Nikolai and took a step back, then another. He kept walking back until he reached Nikolai’s bed and he sat on the edge. He passed his hands through his face. Then he laughed, low and incredulous. “Saints, I’m so stupid.” He kept laughing, his face buried behind his palms, making it sound muffled.

Nikolai approached carefully. He sat on the spot next to Kazik, leaving enough space between them to not allow for any accidental brush to occur. Saints, how he wished to shorten the distance and hold him in his arms. To kiss him and cry and cling to him and never let him go. But he’d told him to back off. He’d told him not to touch him and, saints, that hurt more than Nikolai wanted to admit.

Nikolai didn’t say anything. He waited until Kazik’s laughter died down. Then he continued to say nothing as he watched Kazik remain in the same position. Eventually, Kazik straightened. His face was blank as he stared straight ahead. No amusement, no shame, no anger. Just nothing. Nothing that could give away what he was feeling, anyway.

“What did the letter say?” He rasped.

Nikolai liked his lips. “It said that I was sorry for breaking my promise. That I would take a couple days more to arrive. And I said I would bring you sweets as apology.” He nudged a little closer, trying to incite Kazik’s attention with the movement. Kazik’s eyes glanced towards him, then flicked back to stare ahead of him. “One for each day I spent missing you and for every night I spent dreaming of coming back to you.”

Kazik took a deep breath, held it in, then exhaled. “That day,” he began softly, “I waited on the steps the whole day. I… I thought you hadn’t come because something had happened.”

Nikolai felt a knot form on his throat. He tried to swallow despite it, but it was clogging his airway. He lifted a hand to rub at it, hoping to ease that non-existent swelling.

After a long enough pause, he whispered. “You weren’t wrong.”

That earned Kazik’s attention back on him. “Excuse me?” He spat.

Nikolai braced himself. “You weren’t wrong,” he repeated. He lowered his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt, to Kazik’s utter bafflement. “The reason I was late on going back was because there had been a scuffle at sea and, when we docked in Ravka, I was forced to remain on bedrest.”

He lowered his shirt as he turned, so he could reveal the right side of his back to Kazik. To that long scar that had settled just between the bones of his shoulder.

“Tamar helped me treat it, but she’s a heartrender and she wasn’t very good at healing yet,” Nikolai explained softly. He felt his muscles tense as Kazik’s fingertips ghosted over the scar, tracing the flow of the line. “I— It sometimes still hurts, when it’s too cold or humid. Not too much, but enough to be uncomfortable while I work.”

“You are so…” Kazik began speaking the words in a tone that was somewhere between worry and rage. “Reckless. And idiotic. Don’t you stop to think about what the consequences could be for your stupidity?”

Nikolai chuckled. “Funny that you say that,” he mused as he turned back. Even if his tone was light, his face wasn’t. He was blank faced as he stared into Kazik’s incredulous and furious eyes. “Since you decided cross the Fold alone and with no weapons to defend yourself.”

Kazik scowled. “I’m the Sun Summoner. If there’s someone capable of crossing the Fold alone and unscathed, it’s me.”

Nikolai, very blatantly, dropped his gaze to Kazik’s extended bad leg.

Kazik followed his gaze, then scowled. “They caught me by surprise.”

Nikolai hummed, neither in agreement nor in denial of such claim.

Kazik’s eye flickered to Nikolai’s face, then dropped to his body, which was very uncovered since Nikolai unbuttoned his shirt and hadn’t bothered to button it back up yet. Just as suddenly, Kazik turned away, scowling, as if that was enough prove that he wasn’t blatantly ogling Nikolai a moment before.

Nikolai snorted, leaning back on the bed. He supported himself with his outstretched arms, so his posture would be more relaxed; easier. He made no mention of noticing Kazik staring at him, but he also made no effort to cover himself up.

“I’ve missed you,” Nikolai said, a bit more serious. “And I don’t mean just while I was at sea and telling everyone I was at University. I’ve missed you while I was searching for a sign of you in the Fold, the same way I’ve missed you every day since coming to terms that you were dead. And I’m sorry for breaking my promise and not coming back to you when I said I would.”

Kazik nodded curtly. He offered nothing else.

Nikolai couldn’t help himself. “Didn’t you miss me, Kazik?”

Kazik took a deep breath, then looked up at the ceiling. “Every day,” he admitted quietly. “And I’ve hated myself for it. Because you left me and I came here because you were supposed to be here but, turns out, you weren’t. You weren’t and I had no idea where you were nor how to find you. I spent months following your double until I realized nothing he did could give me a clue of what had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry for that too.”

Kazik laughed drily. “Don’t you know how to say anything else?”

Nikolai allowed his eyes to soften as he whispered his next words. “I love you.” Kazik looked at him from over his shoulder. “I still do love you, Kazik.”

Kazik let out a dry laugh. “I’m not that boy anymore, Nikolai.” He grabbed his cane and hauled himself to his feet. “I was serious when I told you that he’s dead. Whatever you hope to find in me that might be proof he’s still alive, don’t bother.”

Nikolai rose after him. “I don’t care,” he said, his expression serious. “Kazik—”

Kazik lifted a hand to stop whatever he wanted to say now. “Kaz Brekker. That’s who I am now. I am Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands. My reputation is the complete opposite of what Knyaz Sol was. He was kind and loving and the perfect little saint. I am not him anymore. I am twisted, crooked, wrong. I care for nothing, but to fill my own coffers. I don’t help people out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for me.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to speak, stopped, thought for a moment, then swallowed. “I understand.”

Kaz eyed him, warily. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Nikolai said. Then he grinned, and extended his hand for Kaz to shake. “It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, mister Brekker. I’m captain Sturmhond, from the Volkvony. Many people call me a pirate that was born from the sailor’s nightmares, but I prefer the term of a charming and ingenious privateer.”

Kaz grinned, then shook Nikolai’s hand firmly.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

The people of Ravka pray every day for Knyaz Sol’s happiness, wherever he is. May he rest easy and unburdened by the heavy weight this cruel world settled on his shoulders.

His kindness and compassion will continue to guide the people of Ravka for many years to come.