My Dearest Inej

Chapter One: Toffees

Wraith

Inej

My dearest Inej,

Are you laughing at my attempts to start this letter? I hope you are. I know how much my discomfort amuses you, and I'm not sure what else I'm good for while you're off saving the world. If I know you've laughed, I will have felt useful.

You requested letters, so here is the first. When are you coming back? You left yesterday, but now I think time might be standing still. I've tried to make a deal with the sun to speed things along, but all I got were alarmed looks from people on the street and a cease and desist order from the Stadwatch.

No, of course that's not true. Do you know me at all? I hope you're laughing.

Wylan and Jesper would like to enclose a list of items they request be purchased for them in Novyi Zem. I'm throwing it out – it was long and very irritating. You're welcome.

I miss you. I think I've made that clear, but I'll say it anyway, in the spirit of no armor and all that. Be careful. Don't do anything stupid. Don't do anything I would do.

Sincerely,

K. Brekker

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My dearest Inej,

Good. I'm glad you laughed. My one regret is to not have been able to hear it, but reading of it will have to suffice for now.

I had not thought to write you in Suli. I feel badly about that. Don't worry – your Kerch spelling was magnificent, much like many of your other qualities. Should I be writing you in Suli? What's the protocol here?

Many thanks for the Ravkan toffees you sent along. I'm certain Jesper and Wylan enjoyed theirs. As for myself, I enjoyed all of three pieces before it was set upon by starving, feral Dregs. And now I am haunted by the memory of what may have been the most perfect sweet I've ever tasted. You should send me the name of the company. Maybe I'll buy it so I can get fat and happy and retire to the country with the other fat, happy toffeemakers.

I hope you're still laughing.

Sincerely,

K. Brekker

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(translated from Suli)

My rudest Inej,

You have cut me to the quick. You would like me less as a fat toffeemaker? My dreams are shattered. I am devastation. Send more toffees.

Sincerely,

K. Brekker

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(translated from Kerch)

Inej, loveliest of all Inejs,

You did not have to send so many toffees. It was a joke. What am I supposed to do with all of this? Did you send a box for every member of the Dregs?

They're going to like you better than me now, you know. This means war.

Thank you for the Suli lesson. Maybe I should stick to Kerch after all. "I am devastation" – a fitting grammatical error if ever there was one. I may put this on my business card.

Come back soon. If anything, to help me get rid of some of these toffees. If I have to buy all new suits, it will be entirely your fault.

Sincerely,

K. Brekker

a.k.a. – The Devastation

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Dearest Inej,

No, that's not how this works. If you want a new code name, you'll have to start making some grammatical errors, too. I've already named you once. If you want a new one, that's on you.

Three more days. You won't get this letter until your next trip to Ravka. But I like knowing you'll have letters waiting for you when you arrive. I like to think it's making you smile.

I am hoping beyond hope to hold you soon. There. How's that for no armor.

Respectfully yours,

The Devastation

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My dearest Inej,

I am sorry.

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

I don't know what else to say. I've never begged before but I can be taught. This is so much harder than I thought it was going to be.

I am trying, believe me. If you only knew how I'm trying. I've even started letting Jesper jab me in the face. If I can withstand it for ten minutes, he gives me a toffee. Yes, I'm completely serious. Yes, it is the most absurd thing I've ever heard of, too. This is how desperate I've become. (And it's also preventing us from eating all the toffees at once. You'd think we'd be sick of them by now. Are they laced with jurda parem? Why are they so good?)

I am humiliated and ashamed and horrified, and I can't stop thinking about your face when you left. I know I've disappointed you. I can't believe how much it's bothering me this time. I've certainly disappointed you before.

It feels insane to ask for patience at this point. I worry I've already dried that well. But I'll risk it anyway. Know that I am trying. Know that I would change this about myself tomorrow if I could. If you have an ounce of patience left, can you spare it for me?

Please.

Two months. Twenty-five days. 18 hours. I'll use every spare chance I have in that span to prepare for you. It won't always be this way, I swear it.

Apologetically yours,

K. Brekker

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Inej. Treasure of my heart.

I'm saving your last letter for all time, I think. Thank you. Thank you. Not much leaves me speechless, but you have. I don't deserve half of the adoration you penned (in flawless Kerch, by the way, I can't believe you're still worrying about that), but I hope to one day.

Two months. Two days. 12 hours.

I am thinking of you each second until then.

Yours,

Kaz

P.S. – Jesper hates the sea salt toffees. Keep sending those so he'll stop stealing mine.