Kaz Brekker was a lucid dream. Like falling asleep and waking up to find that everything that shouldn't be real was. The brush of his gloves against her skin couldn't be true, yet it was cold, smooth like silk, and undeniable. It was brief, but it was there. Being around him felt safe, unlike everything she had ever known growing up, but that was where it would trick you. All good things must come to an end, the bad was just slowly creeping up on you and waiting for the right moment to strike.
Because Dirtyhands was a nightmare. A facade that was always too good to be true. The height of potential before it was ripped from your palms. Whenever she thought that he might have taken off the mask, it turned out he had another layer underneath. One moment in time, she thought that it might be possible to crack him open and get a glance at what was on the inside. That way she could fix him.
But Shivanni had never been good at fixing things. Everything seemed to end with knives drawn and everything gone wrong, but maybe this once, if she could learn his secrets as he had learned hers, she could get it right.
Over time, that fantasy faded. His stolen glances were paired with cold shoulders. Fleeting touches and desperation were always followed by silence, and the comfort that at least there had been nothing to lose in the first place. For a while, she felt like a traitor giving up on the possibility that Kaz might become more than an emotionless void of revenge and greed, but months became years, and one day a revelation hit her like a wave of cold water.
As much as she could try and fix old wounds and break down his barriers, endlessly longing and waiting, what Kaz had couldn't be solved by her capabilities. It would be up to him and she wasn't quite sure if he was ready to step into that ring and face it for himself.
She longed to plead with him to understand that it was his battle to conquer, but she had never been a beggar, and being on her knees was below her self-respect.
She could live with the welcoming silence that he offered in the absence of everyone else, and how he would stand up for her when she was too weak to put up her own fight. The brief feather-like touches would suffice, but he would never be able to hold her at night when the terrors took over and she was drowning in her own tears.
Not once would he be able to tenderly brush his lips next to her wounds after a particularly ruthless fight. She wished that someday he might be able to give her more than just what she wanted because the thing was, she didn't want much. If the world was perfect, this would be enough.
But the world was far from that, and they were about to sneak into the most secure and heavily guarded building in Ravka. Plotting illegal endeavors that were likely to result in a painful death or public execution was not exactly the ideal time to be contemplating feelings that should have been washed away a long time ago.
The Crows had spent the last ten minutes analyzing every inch of the blueprints to the Little Palace. It shouldn't have been so hard to find a flaw in the design or stationing of the guards, but alas, here they were.
"What about...?" Jesper suggested, pointing to the servant quarters.
"No, look," Inej said. She placed her finger on the armory. Oprichniki would be in and out of there too frequently, especially with the fete. "How about this hallway?"
"No thanks, there's a guard tower," Shivanni pointed out. "I'd like to at least survive the first hour."
Truth was, none of this would mean anything if she died and that was the problem. She wouldn't be able to say that she ever accomplished anything meaningful, ever did anything worth remembering, anything for herself. If people remembered her, it would be for the lives she took. She did it to survive, but they didn't know that. That would be her legacy. Her life would stop here.
Inej sighed. "There's no way in, and there's no way out." Shivanni turned to Kaz in hopes they had glanced over the obvious and missed something and that he was only waiting for them to shut up to share the plan that he had been withholding.
Despite Kaz's frequent unpredictable and law-defying escapades that often put them in harm's way, she had always had blind faith in him. It was stupid and she knew it. You couldn't trust anyone that was brought up in the Barrel, means of survival quickly turned into a way of life. Admittedly, the same could be said for herself. Kaz had, indeed, let her down several times before. Enough for Shivanni to know that her judgment was clouded and as much as she prided herself on her self-awareness, that didn't mean that she was going to change.
As much as she hated to say it, she was probably always going to believe Kaz had a reason and that some part of him that wasn't crooked and twisted cared enough about the Crows, about their family, that he wouldn't send them barreling face first into danger without something up his sleeve. She was always going to believe he had a plan.
This was one of those times when her blind faith betrayed her. She knew that look. It was one of her least favorites. His head was ducked, and the muscles in his jaw clenched tightly as he refused to look at her. His fingers clasped the crow's head on his cane repeatedly with a frustrated fierceness and Shivanni knew he had nothing.
"Well, I thought this plan might not work," Arken appeared out of nowhere and Shivanni couldn't help the way she jumped. She hated surprises.
Jesper chuckled, elbowing her in the ribs softly. Like her brother had used to when she made a fool out of herself, he couldn't refrain from teasing her when she gave him such a perfect opportunity. But unlike Karl Dryden, Jesper was everything she would have wanted as a sibling. He was quick to joke with her and would go to any measure to make her laugh, even at his expense. And despite his younger age, he looked out for her. More times than not, he protected Shivanni from herself, never afraid to step in the middle of a fight and drag her away when she got lost in the adrenaline. Jesper wasn't blood, but unlike those that were, he actually cared. That meant more to her than what was flowing through his veins any day.
A harsh thud echoed from behind them and the crowd that had formed in the tavern erupted in shrieks and gasps. A prideful grin began to spread on Arken's face. She didn't like him and she definitely wasn't going to like this plan. Was it because she was petty? Absolutely. Was it also because she didn't like following blindly behind anyone that wasn't Kaz? She wouldn't say.
"What are you cheery about?" Kaz asked with a bitter edge to his voice.
"This, my friends, is Marko," he said, introducing the poor man who had so clearly became the subject, and objectively, the victim as Shivanni would put it, to his plan.
"Marko is the leader of the traveling troupe known as the Pomdrakon Players and they have been invited to perform in this year's winter fete. They lost their star performer due to an unfortunate freak accident. They are in desperate need of someone with the skills to replace their star performer, and as Ketterdam's premier talent manager, I had an idea."
***
Watching Inej perform was like watching the personification of grace. She could control the crowd with a single drop and elicit a gasp from everyone in the room or make them awe at the way spun from the silks that hung from the rafters. When she had succeeded to stun the room it was clear that she had bought her way into the Little Palace. But Shivanni was not graceful, so when Jesper wrapped his arm around her shoulders and told Marko that they came as a package deal, she was quick to duck under his arm and back to Kaz, muttering under her breath how she would not be someone's trick monkey.
While Jesper had taken to earning his own way in with Inej and the troupe, showing off as he so graciously loved to do, Shivanni was hoping that Kaz might spare her a little silence and allow her to peacefully hide away at his side and away from the roaring cheers and whistles of the tavern. With as little sleep as they had had, she could slowly feel it creep up on her. Her nights had been restless and now with the bright lights and obnoxiously loud noises, she just wanted to disappear into the corner and block out the world. Of course, that was just too much to ask for.
"I hope you aren't expecting to just waltz through the front doors," he said, tilting his head to the side briefly to glance down at her.
"Well, Kaz, I'm sure you're pretty little head will find me a way in," she muttered. "And if not, then I'll make my own way if I have to. Even if I have bat my lashes and woo every guard on the castle grounds." Kaz narrowed his eyes as they flashed down at her own more, finding their way to the ghost of a joking smile that graced her lips.
"But either way," she continued, "I will most definitely not be wearing one of those." Shivanni gestured to the brightly colored and sparkling costume that Inej had been directed to wear.
Kaz hummed and she swore she could see something playful glinting in his eyes.
"You would be entirely unbearable if you did."
"Excuse me-" She glared at him, mouth agape.
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards at the sight. "You wouldn't be able to stop complaining about how much it itches or shut up about the horrid colors. You'd be a walking rainbow. Entirely unbearable."
"I'm sorry Mr. I only wear the same three shades of black and grey, maybe if you got out more you'd be accustomed to what real colors look like. Not just the shadowy corners of your office."
Kaz smirked and this time it was undeniable. It wasn't fake or something put on for show. It was him and it was very much real. A twinge of something raw and free. And as much as Kaz hated vulnerability, it was natural, and everything about the smile that he so rarely bore felt right.
He tapped the end of his cane teasingly to the side of her boots. "Don't tempt me to leave you to find your own way in."
"You wouldn't. You like me too much."
He did. And while that was all good and true and rightfully troublesome, he couldn't find it in himself to respond, merely raise his eyebrows in skepticism. It was a poor show, but it was better than her having to listen to him choke out the truth. There were things he wasn't ready to say, things that he wasn't even sure she would want to hear, but when he studied her face as she picked apart the faces in the crowd as he had done so many times before, it was different.
It wasn't like when he used to judge her features to tell if she was lying as he did those two years ago when they first met. This was something else. It was longing and eager, observing every scar and each freckle that seemed to have been perfectly placed to make him want her more. He wasn't ready to tell her the things that had been running rampant in his mind, but one thing was for certain. Kaz Brekker did indeed like her too much.