Chapter Text
It was already late afternoon when their wagon reached the camp. Kaz wanted to believe Devnand and Priya hadn't travelled all the way to Kribirsk only for his sake, but that family wasn't good at lying and the whole story about checking the mail didn’t hold up. At least they hadn’t insulted his intelligence by claiming Inej didn’t usually cover the distance by herself.
Travelling tended to put him in a sour mood, what with all the lack of personal space and constant tossing. It was better this time. On The Wraith he’d been safely tucked away in the captain’s quarters, much to the glee of Inej's crew, they’d managed to hire a small carriage to Kribirsk, just for the two of them, and now he was sitting on the driver’s stool next to Devnand, a sliver of space between them enough to put his mind at ease.
‘You must’ve brought good luck with you,’ Devnand said. ‘The weather was gloomy for days, we’ve been fearing rain, and now look.’
He nodded in an indistinct direction, pointing out the cloudless sky, already darkening in the east, and the bright gold and green of the meadows around them. The forest ahead had just started turning yellow and red for the fall, most of it still deep emerald. Had it not been for the bare fields they’d passed, the harvesting season almost over, Kaz could’ve been tricked that it was still the middle of summer, not the second half of September.
‘My arrival is not known to bring anyone good luck,’ he said carefully. Devnand laughed, and Kaz shook his head. Five years, and he was still getting used to how unbothered Inej’s parents were by his reputation.
He felt a little too warm in his coat, but Priya’d been insistent that he should keep it on outside, and he’d figured she must know the local climate better.
He could still take it off, of course. He just decided not to.
The big camp was a vibrant mix of colors at the forest’s backdrop. Size-wise, it could pass as a small village – Kaz could see at least five separate groups of wagons, clearly different clans of Suli artists avoiding mix-ups. He recognized the Ghafa wagons on the right side of the camp from afar. A woman standing at the outskirts, looking in their direction with a palm shielding her eyes was probably Inej’s aunt Meraj.
‘I really hope I’m not inconveniencing you too much,’ Kaz said for what had to be the third time.
The Ghafas had already been very accommodating hosts during his previous visit, four years prior, but it had been at the end of summer, and he’d just slept outside, under the makeshift tent, like some other people in the camp who felt too hot in the wagons. Their stay had lasted only a week that it took to prepare and celebrate Inej’s solahvaan, and she’d spent a few particularly hot nights not far away – on a separate blanket, next to her mother, but he could still see her if he’d lifted his head just so. With his sleeping place being at a considerable distance, he’d had enough space to keep the waters at bay, but she’d been still by his side, and the memory of those nights had sustained him through the winter that year.
But Ravkan nights grew colder faster than daytime, and his previous offer to sleep outside had been met with Priya’s inquiry on why he wanted to disgrace her in front of her family.
‘We won’t have you freezing next to horses when even dogs take cover,’ she’d said firmly, and that had been the end of it.
Had it been anyone else, Kaz would’ve had his way – risking cold was a much lesser evil than lying among sleeping bodies in a closed space. He and Inej could sleep in one bed most of the nights she was in Ketterdam now, and, while he was prouder of it than of all his prosperous establishments, he wasn’t delusional. No way he could bear the presence of someone else by his side without constantly feeling the harbor in his lungs.
He didn’t want Inej’s family to see what would happen if he lost it.
But Kaz had never been very good at saying no to Priya, and asking for a personal wagon just for the two of them would be downright obnoxious.
So for now he was just hoping that the fine weather would persuade Inej’s parents to just leave him next to the horses.
***
It turns out, they decided to be obnoxious on his behalf instead.
‘Come,’ Meraj told him in an accented Ravkan after he’d greeted Inej’s elder relatives, with all the awkwardness that he still couldn’t quite shake away when talking to adults he had no goal to intimidate.
She led him to the wagon he knew she shared with her adopted daughter. As they approached, Zara moved the entrance curtain away and stepped out, carrying what looked like a sheet with her belongings in it. She regarded him with a frowned nod and marched away without a word. As Kaz had learnt in his previous visit, this was her usual response to strangers, but he realized suddenly that she might have a bone to pick with him specifically this time.
He stopped.
‘Meraj, I won’t take up your wagon.’
‘That’s a shame, we already moved our belongings,’ she replied serenely. ‘I’m not telling Zara she has to carry it all back.’
‘That’s too much space. And where will you two stay?’
She made a show of her patient sigh.
‘With my mother. And it will be easier,’ she added slightly louder as he was about to object, ‘for her to share space with us than with a young male guest.’
Kaz felt an unusual pang of guilt.
‘I would come with my own wagon if I knew we’d cause that much trouble,’ he said seriously.
Inej’s aunt waved at him, but he noticed a confused crease between her brows. She opened her mouth, but then seemed to reconsider her words and finally said:
‘Why don’t you go in and rest a little before dinner? Travelling for days must be challenging.’
Kaz cocked his brow.
‘You mean, because I’m not used to it?’
‘Exactly,’ Meraj laughed, starting toward where several women gathered around two big bowls propped above campfires.
Kaz had already realized his arrival was drawing attention, and now, standing alone among near strangers, he felt almost as exposed as in the Fjerdan prison showers. There were several wagons at some distance, separated by the ones that belonged to Inej’s closest family, but close enough that he could see people sneaking glances his way. He couldn’t think of anything that could be done about it since violence wasn’t on the table, so just turned and climbed inside together with his bag.
The rolls of fabric were piled up against the back wall of the wagon. Meraj had left her work materials and sewing table here, which made sense – they only needed the wagon to sleep and keep their possessions, and she still needed to work somewhere. The rest of the small space had nothing but a cot – a bit too narrow for two people, but then again, Inej was tiny – and a big chest, its lid open to show it was theirs to fill.
He sensed Inej’s presence even before she stepped on the short ladder and moved the curtain away.
‘Making yourself comfortable?’ she asked, coming inside. Kaz placed his bag next to the chest.
‘Well, Meraj didn’t leave me much choice. Women in your family are like that.’
She leaned on the doorway, watching him through her lashes. Inej had reached the point when she felt at ease in Ketterdam, having tamed that city like a beast that had once tried to maul her to death and now cowered under her gaze from the top of the Church of Barter. But her easiness here was on another level – she somehow looked younger and at the same time more grounded, more like her mother.
‘I don’t hear you complaining.’
‘That’s because I’m not,’ Kaz opened his backpack. ‘At least there’s enough room for both of us. I’m pretty sure I can sleep on this chest if the cot gets too small.’
The stillness behind him made him look around. Inej stiffened, looking not exactly at him with anxiousness he couldn’t understand.
‘About that,’ she said. ‘I forgot to tell you. The wagon is for you only.’
Kaz frowned.
‘That doesn’t sound practical. Surely it makes more sense for the two of us to stay here than…’
‘Kaz,’ Inej shifted. ‘We can’t stay under one roof alone.’
He didn’t like how uneasy she looked. He liked the uneasy feeling in his chest even less.
‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘We sleep together in…’
‘In the Slat, yes. But we can’t do it here.’
Kaz stepped back, turning to her fully. She was looking down at her crossed arms now.
‘Inej,’ he asked, ‘your family knows we’re together, don’t they?’
‘They do. I… guess they do.’
‘What does that even mean?’
She took in a shuddered breath before straightening up and looking at him.
‘We cannot sleep in one wagon. I’ll be staying with my parents. Alright?’
This was not alright. They’d gone through breakdowns, nightmares and frantic, stupid fights to get to that morning about a year ago, when he’d woken up, at sunrise and not in the still of the night, and found her sleeping soundly by his side, on the pillow he’d bought just for her – hell, on the bed he’d bought so that they both could have some space. He’d spent another half an hour ignoring his bladder and committing the sight to memory.
It didn’t matter that they hadn’t done much more than kissing and… some more kissing, at this point. Kaz cherished those nights with Inej’s warmth right next to him above anything else. If her blissful, sleepy smile in the morning was anything to go by, she enjoyed them, too.
And now she was telling him they were to give it up for a whole two weeks, after which she would drop him off in Ketterdam and be gone for another two months.
But she already looked distraught, and Kaz knew making it worse for her wouldn’t make it any better for him.
‘Al…’ he cleared his throat. ‘Alright. I guess I’ll start unpacking, then.’
Inej nodded, her eyes flickering to his face and away again. That nearly ashamed expression soured his mood even further.
‘You should probably get settled, too,’ Kaz said.
‘Is that your way of saying you’d like me to go?’
He didn’t want her to go. That was the entire problem.
‘I’m not telling you what to do, Inej.’
She glanced over her shoulder at the entrance curtain behind which the clattering dishes and women’s voices indicated the upcoming meal.
‘I should go check if they need help with dinner,’ she said. ‘It’ll be ready in half an hour or so.’
As she stepped out, Kaz bit back an acidic question of whether he was at least allowed to sit near her. Of course, he was – he’d shared meals with her family his entire first stay.
He could barely touch Inej back then without his gloves, but even married Suli couples didn’t get too touchy in public so the distance between them hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. Kaz was fine with honoring her people’s etiquette. He just hadn’t expected it to steal away their privacy, too.
The curtain was still moving after Inej lifted it to leave when the influx of thoughts rushed in.
She didn’t really want him here. He was the one who’d offered to come, after all, naively thinking a stay with her family would make up for that summering together he’d promised and failed to deliver.
Or maybe her parents didn’t want him, what with all the trouble he’d put her through after their first and last meeting, and now she had to tiptoe between him and them, trying not to upset anyone.
Maybe he should go and stay with Jesper in Os Alta. Jesper had finally agreed to get some training and a formal assessment of his skills by one of the Little Palace tutors, so he’d arrived at Ravka on The Wraith with them. To Kaz’s knowledge, he was renting a flat in the capital. He probably needed someone to keep him out of trouble, and Wylan could only join him in a few days because of the Council duties.
Kaz gave his bag a scornful glare, trying to imagine how he’d look, leaving right after arrival, rendering all his hosts’ preparations futile. Like not just a difficult guest of the Ghafas family, but also an embarrassing one.
Apparently, all those allegations of Dirtyhands being dramatic had a leg to stand on. With a sigh, he opened the bag and started looking for a shirt that wasn’t too rumpled to change into.
This wasn’t ideal, and Inej’s unconvincing answer made him suddenly question the status in which he even was here. But he wasn’t going to allow it to ruin his stay. He liked Devnand and Priya, and he loved how happy Inej was around her family.
He was going to enjoy the hell out of these two weeks, damn it.
***
Inej stepped up to a makeshift table in front of her parents’ wagon, grabbed the first pepper she saw and started viciously slicing it for the stew slowly boiling in the cauldron.
‘I meant to serve that one fresh,’ Priya said. ‘We’ve already cut some.’
‘Oh. I guess we’ll have to eat it fast, then, before it dries up.’
‘We can offer it to our guest,’ Zara suggested.
‘Almost forgot,’ Priya took an empty bowl and filled it with pilaf from the cauldron. ‘Set that aside for Kaz, it’s without the pepper.’
Zara abided, although her tightly pressed lips indicated she wasn’t feeling very hospitable toward the guest. Her guarded disposition wasn’t anything new, but Inej couldn’t help the feeling that the girl had only grown more suspicious about Kaz since she’d first brought him to the caravan.
‘I’m sorry you had to move, Zara,’ she said cautiously. Her cousin’s eyes narrowed, but she shrugged:
‘It’s nothing.’
‘It is,’ Meraj said pressingly, throwing cuts of hot pepper into the cauldron and stirring it gently. ‘But Inej will believe it more easily if you stop scowling, meja.’
‘I can’t, that’s my only face,’ Zara deadpanned, but Inej wasn’t sure if she was allowed to laugh.
Zara’s scars weren’t entirely like hers. She’d been married off at the age of ten, to a strange man she didn’t know and didn’t care for, and forced to follow him into a land she’d never been before. She barely spoke of her parents – a Suli man and a Ravkan woman who’d settled down somewhere down south – and Inej couldn’t imagine the ache of betrayal festering in her soul.
While Inej had struggled with touch after getting out of the Menagerie, Zara at first had been hungry for her adoptive mother’s affection – Meraj had confided in her once that the girl had asked to share her bed during the first year in the Ghafa and would cry if left alone. The desperate need to be accepted had walked hand in hand with a constant fear of being betrayed again, left behind, given up to someone else, and getting visibly angry if someone pointed out her beauty. This Inej could relate to.
Now, at seventeen, Zara was at ease around those she trusted – calm, quick to smile, and her sense of humor, dry and occasionally dark, reminded Inej of a certain Barrel boy.
But she didn’t like strangers, and Inej herself had been one, at first. She’d never forget how Zara had approached her days after her first arrival home – slowly, looking up at her warily, ready to retreat at any moment.
‘Are you okay with me living here?’ she’d finally asked, addressing her directly for the first time. Inej had felt the late spring warmth increasing tenfold with the wave of hot shame washing over her. Zara couldn’t know about her grim imaginings of another child her parents might’ve had in her absence, of being replaced, but knowingly or not, she hit them right in the spot.
But Zara wasn’t a replacement. She fit in the place that had been there for her all along.
‘I’m happy that you’re here,’ Inej had said. ‘I’ve always wanted a cousin on Papa’s side.’
It had taken much more than words to earn Zara’s trust, but they’d gotten here eventually – with every kind word, every shared secret, every cautious hug. Inej could only assume Kaz not being Suli added to her cousin’s wariness, but she seemed even more disdainful of him than at his first visit.
They set up a makeshift table in the center of a loose circle created by their wagons. All around them, Inej could see their relatives, neighbors and people of other clans doing the same. Asha waved at her, and she waved back with a smile. Somewhere in the distance, she could catch a glimpse of a Ravkan or two – tourists from the capital who covered a good five miles to gawk at Suli people preparing their well-earned supper from a distance. She only hoped they’d feel ridiculous and leave soon enough. The performance was to start tomorrow.
And of course, Inej noticed flowers travelling this way and that, the glints of silver and gold sparkling in the evening sun. A strange feeling tugged at her heart at the sight, but she paid it no mind. It wouldn’t be the first time little unique customs of her people made her feel more homesick here than in the middle of the True Sea.
Kaz walked up to the table as they were arranging food and immediately took to the first task he could find, preparing fresh herbs for serving. He was wearing the same dark trousers and a black linen shirt – rumpled, like everything else from his bag, but at least it was less visible. Inej secretly adored the contrast this simple attire made with his usual merchant-like suits. He’d obviously made an attempt to slick back his hair, but it wouldn’t hold without the pomade he used in Ketterdam and deemed unfit for life in a wagon, and dark strands fell freely on his pale brow.
He caught her eyes and gave her one of those invisible smiles – a little curve of his mouth’s line, eyes’ corners creasing just so. An acknowledgement hidden in the plain sight. She pressed her lips together to suppress her grin and lowered her gaze before her blush betrayed her completely. The weight in her chest lightened tenfold. He was understandably upset, but at least he wasn’t angry. Inej wasn’t excited to sleep in her childhood bed instead next to her man, either, but she couldn’t bear bringing even more judgment on her family. Not when she was to leave, and they were to stay behind and deal with all the side-eyes.
The fact that she brought him along again was scandalous enough.
They finally sat to eat – Dada and Nana at the head and foot of the table, her parents and Meraj on one side, Kaz taking a seat at the corner of the table between Inej and her grandmother. Zara sat on her other side, pointedly only looking in front of herself.
The elders conversed among themselves in Suli, and Inej could see Kaz straining his ear, discerning separate words he knew and trying to understand the rest from them. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing that, setting out to solve a riddle by the force of habit. She smiled to herself, digging into her meal.
‘Inej,’ said Mama in Ravkan, ‘would you like to perform with us during the festival?’
‘Why not?’ her skills might have found a different purpose now, what with all the scaling her rigging and walking tightropes mostly for fun, but she still got it. ‘But don’t you have the program already settled?’
‘There’s always room for you,’ Papa winked. ‘By the way, your mother and I have an updated routine we wanted to show you.’
‘We need to start looking for replacements if we want to keep it,’ Mama said. ‘My knees aren’t what they used to be.’
Inej shook her head.
‘Nonsense, you two have at least a decade of going strong ahead of you.’
She knew, realistically, that their craft meant short careers. That didn’t mean she had to make peace with the fact that her parents weren’t getting any younger.
Her father gasped.
‘Have mercy, meja. The only thing that’s been keeping me going over the last few years is a hope to retire soon and finally eat as many date cookies as I want.’
They all laughed. Devnand didn’t have the Ghafas’ naturally slender constitution and would occasionally joke about having to be increasingly mindful of his diet as he aged. Inej knew it wasn’t the cookies he craved, but the ability to stop being overly aware of every bite he put in his mouth so that the trapeze could hold him.
She didn’t like to think about her parents ageing, her grandparents nearing their time to go, all while she was away for most of the year. But maybe her parents being able to step down from performing wouldn’t be so bad. The life of an acrobat wasn’t a gentle one, and she wanted them to have their health for as long as possible. Having more money than she knew what to do with, Inej would be happy to fully provide for her family, but they were too proud to accept it while they could still work.
The whole camp ate at approximately the same time, and there weren’t many passersby, so Inej noticed the child early. A girl no older than eight, with two adorable dark braids hanging down her shoulders, walked between two of their wagons, looking sheepishly at their table. Inej was about to ask her if she was lost when she saw what the girl was carrying.
Then the unexpected visitor saw her, beamed, and started walking with new determination, sending Inej’s heart into a freefall.
Not now, damn it.