Flock and Court- SoC

4

   "Youre staring again, Kaz," Inej said groggily, eyes remaining shut.

   Kaz composed himself. He should have felt bashful at being caught staring, but Dirtyhands rarely felt shame. The Barrel had a way of purging one's decency. "Youre the one in my bed," Kaz pointed out.

   Inej propped herself on an elbow, glossy hair tumbling over one shoulder, "Wylan must have been hosting some dinner party. There were carriages lined up the driveway. I could have scaled the wall to my room, but I felt like getting some actual sleep rather than listening to the drunken singing of some wealthy merchant at all hours of the night."

    Kaz should have told her about Wylan's function last night. It had completely slipped his mind. He silently scolded himself. A lot seemed to slip his mind, as of late.

   "You get enough boozy sea shanties on The Wraith?" Kaz asked, limping to his desk.

   "Enough for a lifetime," Inej laughed. Her voice changed then, "And you gave my old room away."

   Was that a note of accusation in her tone? Should he tell her that he'd left it unoccupied for over two years? The way he'd snapped at new Dregs recruits, ordering them to find a different room without justification? It was not a spectacular room- in fact, it was barely more than a broom closet- but it had still been hers. It had been hers to him.

    "Had to happen eventually," he stated simply instead, stooping to pick up his scattered papers. Inej knew better than to help.

    "Well, it didn't look like you were putting much use to your bed last night anyway," Inej said.

    At this, Kaz was glad his back was to Inej. He thought of her creeping into his room, finding him slumped across his desk like a fool, not even awakening at her presence. Kaz wondered briefly what she would have done if he had been in his bed.

    "What bored you to sleep last night?" Inej asked.

     Kaz stood, straightening his papers. He flitted through them with gloved fingers. "I wasn't bored. These forms document the recent activity of farms bordering Ketterdam. He frowned slightly, "Ive been reviewing their patterns. Nearly all of these farmers have sold their land in the past few months. I want to know why."

    "Has the soil been overworked?"

    "That's just it. There seems to be no indication of poor yields from prior years. Few are in dire financial standings, and none are forced. I'm still gathering information on what they sold for and whom they sold to."

    "It could be nothing."

    "Its never nothing," Kaz said quietly.

    The silence between them was a living thing. It was tangible, twitching, impatient. It stretched its limbs; flicked its tail.

     At last, Inej spoke.

"You have ink on your face."

     Kaz touched his cheek self-consciously. He figured that was what happened when one used an important document as a pillow.

    Inej gestured to him, "Come here."

    He didn't know why he obeyed. Why his feet propelled him to her. One moment hed been at his desk, the next, standing at his bedside.

    Inej knelt on his mattress, their faces now level. He watched her soundlessly as she swiped her thumb against her tongue, leaning in. Her hands found his face without hesitation, cradling it in her fingers. Gently, she rubbed at what must have been ink along his cheek, along his temple. Kaz held perfectly still beneath her touch: unbreathing, unthinking, un-drowning. There was only the sensation of her fingertips on his face, light as resting bubbles. He marvelled at how this action seemingly engrossed her full attention, concentration furrowing her dark brows in that way he'd always loved. Kaz could count each oil-black lash. And there were her lips. His treasonous eyes strayed to them recklessly, daringly. With considerable effort, he tore his attention away. A strand of hair had fallen across Inej's face. He wanted to brush it away. He wanted to-