Drowning (Kaz Brekker)

xvii - Drowned

HE'D NEARLY DROWNED. The thought came back to him like the tide, over and over, unavoidable and unstoppable. Drowned. Again. Full circle. It would've been perfect, the only end that would've truly fit. Except for his money. Except for Asra.

Where was she? Why could he never find her when he wanted to? Why did he want to anyway?

He longed for her, that silence that settled over them perfectly. He wanted her quiet, her presence. She was the thing that snapped him from his daze, clawed him from the hold of the waves. He should thank her. He wanted to scream at her for ruining his destined end.

Where was she? Kaz searched the boat, seemily deserted in the depth of night.  He'd find her, wherever she was. He'd find her, they'd say nothing, and that would be that till dawn dare disturb them. Maybe he could ask her to stop it. He knew she could. She could pull him from the waves, she could keep the sun beneath them. She'd enjoy the challenge. Where was she?

He found her on the deck, gripping the railings, doubled over at the waist, emptying her guts into the dark waters beneath.

Kaz knew he should leave. This was weakness, private, hers. Instead he found himself drawing closer. She'd seen him faint, seen him shudder and flinch. She'd seen his weakness, he had a right to see hers. Maybe he was getting even. Maybe he wanted to ask if she was okay. Maybe he just cared. He didn't know which option he preferred.

He expected her to straighten, turn to him with some dull and snarky remark. She always knew when he was near, and Kaz wasn't exactly being quiet.

But she didn't. She stayed slumped against the railings, chest heaving, body shaking. Kaz knew she should turn around, leave her to her demons. But he didn't. He stopped by her side, thudding his cane against the wooden floor. Asra turned, sighed, and drew herself up, pushing her hair from her face.

"What do you want?"

He didn't know. Peace? Death? Her? To lay down to sleep and never wake again? His money, mostly. Probably. He hated the doubt that came with her.

Kaz didn't answer. He turned to stand beside her, looking out over the dark sea, silent. As was their tradition.

Asra let out a soft breath. She faced the sea beside him and that was that. Their tradition was back, those silent sleepless nights he never suspected he'd miss. There was no coffee, no papers to pour over. But Kaz's flask sat comfortably in his coat, his plans and plots waiting in his mind. He'd entertain himself, and Asra would be beside him. Her face would take on that slack comfort as she stared at nothing. Who knows what went on in her mind?

Only it didn't. She wouldn't settle. Kaz watched out the corner of his eye, and he saw she couldn't relax. Neither could he. Oh, how this job had ruined everything. Except kruge couldn't fix this.

"Thank you." He said at last. He was more surprised than her.

"You're welcome." Her voice was flat, dangerous, like a starving dog.

Kaz turned to her, incredulous. Asra looked up at him, tired grin on her lips. She's exhausted, Kaz realised. They all were. She and him always were. But this was diffrent. This wasn't overwork burnout, this was terror. She'd been scared, ever since she came back from Van Eck's office. He hadn't let himself notice, believe. But he could deny it no longer. His beast was scared.

"Fine. Which of my many virtuous acts have you decided to appreciate, Kaz?" Her voice held a hollow life, an echo in a great cave. He knew the sound well. That was his voice, Kaz Brekker, scared and broken boy who couldn't touch. The sound of a corpse walking.

"What you did on the beach... and the wagon."

The wagon. He hadn't meant to bring up the wagon. They weren't supposed to talk about the wagon. Why had he mentioned the wagon?