and when i break (it's in a million pieces) - a kanej fic

Part 6

5 years ago:

As peaceful as the walk was, Inej had a sense that Kaz was building towards something, so it didn't surprise her when, after a while, he took a sharp right through an alley and led them onto Zentsbridge.

The sun was setting in earnest now, and it lit the water in a fiery orange glow. Inej had always thought that the bridge held a sort of tragic beauty. Each knot tied was a sailor's prayer for safe travels at sea. She would never know which prayers were answered and which were ignored. Even still, in a way, the bridge was holy ground. A place of worship. A place of promise.

"Inej," the burn of Kaz's voice was rougher than usual, drawing her back to the present. She looked at him expectantly, but he didn't say anything in return. She knew he wanted to.

Inej knocked lightly against his shoulder, "What, do you need the Wraith to do some spying for you?"

Kaz grimaced, "Not quite-- though your job is still open if you ever wish to return,"

Inej rolled her eyes, "You already have a spider, Kaz. The new girl, Ophelia, I've heard she's good,"

"She's adequate,"

"Kaz,"

"She's no Wraith,"

Inej looked down and blushed. Even six years later, a true compliment from Kaz's lips was something that set her cheeks aflame and a tingle down her spine.

Looking back up at him she couldn't deny her curiosity,

"Well, what then?"

Kaz's spine stiffened, and she saw something harden behind his eyes. He wasn't angry, he was resolute. It was the same face he used to stare down men like Pekka Rollins and Jan Van Eck. Challenges. Fears.

It was his fighting face.

Leaning his cane against the railing of the bridge. Kaz removed both of his black, leather gloves -- which he had pulled on as the air grew colder -- and slipped them into one of his coat pockets.

She watched his pale, trickster fingers disappear into the other dark woolen pocket, and emerge with a small, black velvet box.

Inej couldn't stifle her gasp in time.

Warmth flooded her cheeks as she looked between the box and the boy standing in front of her. His face was carefully blank, and she knew he was trying to gauge her reaction and how to proceed. Robbed of speech as she was, Inej gave the slightest dip of her chin, a signal for him to continue.

"Inej," He started and stopped again, trying to work over what to say, "I know that we don't live exactly normal lives. Nor will we ever. I'll never be a mercher with marble floors and a white picket fence, and I can't imagine you want that life either,"

"Are you asking me to marry you?" Inej's voice was barely above a whisper, but she couldn't contain her question.

Kaz shook his head, "Not exactly. I know neither of us," His gaze flitted between the ground and her face, "Are ready for that life yet. The Barrel...there's work I have left to do. And I'd never wish to deprive the slavers of your company at sea,"

At that, Inej gave a weak smile, still overcome with emotion.

"But one day," he continued, "If you want it, we can. It's a promise ring-- where I was born,"

Kaz inhaled. He rarely talked about his past beyond Jordie and a scattering of memories from Lij, but from what Inej understood, his childhood had been fairly peaceful until his father died. He might've even grown up a farm boy, like Jes, though they both scoffed at the thought. Inej knew how much it took for Kaz to divulge even a little bit of his past, even to her.

"In Lij, most of the children there were poor. When people fell in love," He paused on the word,

"Many times they were too poor to get married right away. So they gave someone a promise ring instead. It left the future open for them to take or leave as they wished. But, it meant a future. If the other person wanted it."

He was looking at her like she was meant to answer, but all intelligent thought had suddenly come to a standstill in her head.

All she could think was, Kaz Brekker is asking me if I want a future. With him.

And then, Kaz Brekker doesn't deal in futures.

He once told her that futures were for dreamers and believers, "Of which I am neither."

But here he was, asking for her future. Promising her his.

Kaz Brekker doesn't make promises, her mind warned, He makes deals. He makes bargains. He's the devil in the dark, the monster under your bed. He acts in his best interest and his alone.

She saw concern, maybe veiled panic flit its way across his face, and that was enough for her to come back to her senses. Unfortunately, the first words out of her mouth were,

"But... you don't make promises,"

Kaz laughed, a low sound released from his chest in a sudden burst, "Consider it a deal, then, if you prefer those terms,"

"But what do you get out of it?"

She knew the answer before he even said it,

"You, Inej. You."