Chapter Text
The first time Hanne saw the boy, he was standing in her front hall, head bowed before her father. His hair fell long around his shoulders, and the light streaming in from the high windows made it sparkle bright and flaxen. It reminded Hanne of midwinter sunsets on cold northern lakes, when the fading sun turned the water into liquid gold. This rendered the boy forever magical in her mind. Even as they both grew and changed, as society battered them into its preferred shape, and as their lives separated them, he still remained her sunlight.
Hidden behind a mahogany banister, Hanne watched as her father spoke to him, kneeling low. Her curiosity about who this boy was could not be satiated. From her far-off vantage she could not hear what was uttered between them, but she saw how the boy stood straighter every second. His confidence increased so much so that he turned his face towards her father, glowing with pride. At this distance, the boy’s particular features were indeterminable, but Hanne knew she would recognize the way he held himself anywhere.
She watched her father and the boy until her mother came searching for her. As she was dragged away, her mother using a surprising amount of force considering her small frame, Hanne mourned the loss of her newest mystery, unsure she would ever encounter him again.
But Hanne did see him again, and it felt like destiny. They were fated to be friends. This time, his hair was cropped short to his head, now reminiscent of a stubby wheat field. A momentary pang of loss echoed through her chest for his long hair. But all such sorrow was quickly overshadowed by the fact that they were being formally introduced, her parents smiling in pleasure. Her mystery was soon to be resolved.
Her father had his hand placed protectively on the boy’s shoulder, most likely because the boy’s eyes were as wide as a nervous rabbit’s. Making friends in this way was evidently a new experience for him. Hanne, relentless in so many ways, was not to be deterred by a little warriness, and stuck out her hand as she had seen her father do so many times before. While it would have been more proper to curtsy, the boy’s social standing was unknown to her. And besides, they were to be friends. Friends did not curtsy to one another.
“I’m Hanne,” she said, giving a gap-toothed smile. The boy eyed her hand for a moment, as if determining whether or not it would bite. Then, deciding it was safe, he took her hand cautiously.
“Matthias. My name is Matthias.” He did not offer a smile in return, but Hanne understood how overwhelming his situation might be. The handshake, therefore, was sufficient, and she shook their clasped hands once, squeezing firmly. Matthias retracted his hand as soon as was polite.
Jarl cleared his throat, and smiled fondly down at the two children. “Hanne, why don’t you go and show Matthias the garden? I’m sure he would love to see the flowers,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the Brum’s back garden. Hanne grinned in pure delight, and grabbed Matthias’s soft, uncalloused hand with her own, slightly more well-worn one. Startled by the contact, he didn’t resist as she pulled him through the house and out into the garden illuminated by soft summer sunlight. Hanne laughed, clear and high, as she led her new friend around, showing him all her favourite hidden places and the prettiest flowers. Matthias didn’t speak as much as she knew little boys ought to, but she didn’t press him. He had all the time in the world to open up to her.
***
Matthias’s first request as soon as he was capable of clear thought was for paper and a pen. It was, of course, immediately after Nina left the room to attend to some other duty. Nina, who was like a drug. Nina, who slipped into his mind and his heart. Nina, whose hold on him would not relent. For even after a year in Hellgate, he was still dreaming of her. He had tried everything in his power to forget her. And he would have thought that after her betrayal, forgetfulness would come easily. But no such ease existed in Matthias’s life, and so he settled for cursing her name every time he thought of her.
Rotty, who was a member of Kaz Brekker’s gang, was watching over him. The man assented to his request with only slight suspicion. He slipped out of the room, and Matthias was left to wait alone, with only the casual elegance of the room to entertain him. The chair he sat on was velvet and plush, the table he sat before was smooth and sturdy, and several paintings were affixed to the walls. It was leagues better than what he had suffered in Hellgate. But the room was still sunless, still stuffy, and still empty of life. It was still hell. Matthias suspected that Ketterdam would always be hell to him, what with all the cursed memories it had gifted him. The whole place smelled like refuse and sin. It was the last place he would ever choose to be.
Rotty returned a few minutes later, handing Matthias a single sheet of thick, creamy paper and a fountain pen with a silver tip. Eyeing his ward carefully, Rotty spoke.
“You wanting to send a letter, boy?”
Matthias had only scribbled out the name of his intended recipient on the top of the first page. He looked down, not meeting Rotty’s eyes, an ache spreading in his chest. “Yes, to a friend of mine. It’s likely she thinks me long dead.”
“I don’t care who you’re sending it to. What I do care about is what you write in it. Mister Brekker will undoubtedly want to read whatever you’ve put in there, to make sure you’re not revealing anything important,” said Rotty, leaning against the doorframe. “Now write quickly. I don’t have all day.”
***
Matthias had been gone for three days, and Hanne was bored to tears. Her father was taking him on a hunting trip with some drüskelle. Hanne had begged and begged her father to let her accompany them, but he had shut her down. It was, supposedly, to help Matthias decide whether or not he truly wanted to join the ranks of the drüskelle. Hanne didn’t understand why he had to decide so early—Matthias was only eight, and the youngest you could join was ten. But her father insisted, and there was nothing Hanne could do but to obey.
Hanne hung her torso off the couch in the parlor, hair just brushing the floor. She stared at the large painting of her and Matthias playing in the garden, surrounded by pink and yellow flowers. It had been painted just that summer, and if you were near enough to it, you could still smell the fumes of the oil paint. Even though the painter was incredibly talented, Hanne didn’t quite love it. She and Matthias were both laughing, caught half moving—it had been terrible to pose for, with one leg lifted off the ground and her head turned back at Matthias behind her—but she just looked so girly. Her mother had insisted she wear a pink dress and a large bow in her hair, and the painter had softened her features. She wished she had been able to wear pants like Matthias. Her father sometimes let her get away with it, but her mother always frowned when she saw Hanne wearing ‘boys’ clothes. Hanne thought the whole concept was ridiculous.
The front door opened, and tumbled off the couch and launched to her feet. Were her father and Matthias home? The rush of servant’s feet moving towards the entrance echoed through the parlor walls, and with a grin, Hanne hurried to join them. Opening the door and emerging into the sunny front entrance, her heart sang at the sight of Matthias and her father surrounded by bags, snow dusting their coats.
“You’re back!” Hanne cried, rushing towards them. Out of deference, she hugged her father first; still too short to be at his level, her arms encircled his waist. He laughed and ruffled her hair. Then she turned to Matthias and veritably tackled him. “You were supposed to be gone another day,” she accused, pulling away from him and placing her hands on her hips. Matthias raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile.
“You’re complaining that we got back sooner,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m wounded.”
Hanne stuck her tongue out at him and they both subsided into a fit of giggles. Jarl chuckled at them, shaking his head. “We managed to bring down a large stag, so we saw no point in continuing. We’ll be feasting tonight.”
“A stag? That’s impressive,” Hanne said, turning towards Matthias. He shrugged, as he was prone to, though a smile twitched his lips.
“I didn’t do much.”
Hanne tugged on his hand, pulling him away from the entrance. “Obviously, this is your first big hunt. But you have to tell me all about it.” Matthias complied, following along behind her. The smile that had been threatening earlier burst through, and he laughed some more as Hanne dragged him up the grand mahogany staircase.
“Of course I will.”
***
Matthias took a deep breath in, relishing the sea air. He salt coated his tongue. For the first time in nearly a year, he felt truly alive. While his time imprisoning grisha and depositing them in Fjerda had caused much emotional turmoil, sailing had reprieved that despair somewhat. There was something about cold wind ruffling your hair and no land in sight for miles that proffered a sense of unrivaled freedom. At long last, he was away from the curse that was Ketterdam, and on his way home.
Home.
Could Fjerda still be called his home? After saving a drüsje? After promising to help Kaz Brekker break into the Ice Court? After violating every principle he had been raised to believe? Matthias slumped his head onto the deck railing, guilt churning in his stomach like a black storm gathering on the horizon. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was a traitor to his country. And the only path to rectify his mistakes was to add more transgressions to his record.
Sucking in a steadying breath, Matthias turned to survey the deck. Kaz stood at the prow with Specht, their heads bowed together. Inej sat on a crate, staring out to sea. She was healed enough that Nina no longer worried about short stints on the deck for fresh air, though her charge never went unsupervised. She stood sentinel, leaning against the opposite railing so her view of Inej was unobstructed. Matthias wasn’t sure how successful her current task was, as Jesper was talking animatedly, distracting her from her duties. Of their group, only Wylan was below decks. This afternoon had opened up an opportunity Matthias had been waiting for. Ever since he had agreed to help with the heist, his chest had been tight and his soul grieving. Inej was the only person on this ship that could offer him any guidance. Nina’s hovering and Jesper’s consistent presence at her side had been preventing him from speaking to her. It was not a conversation he wanted anyone else to hear.
Casting another glance at Nina—suitably distracted by Jesper—Matthias made his way over to where Inej was perched. He settled himself beside her, and she startled, ripping her gaze from the horizon.
“Matthias,” she said, eyes crinkling. Her long braid whipped in the surging wind, and her curiosity was evident in the tilt of her head. They weren’t friends. He wasn’t friends with anyone, even Nina. Especially Nina. He stared out over the horizon, unable to meet Inej’s gaze. While he struggled to form the words for what he wanted to say, she watched him attentively, ever considerate and patient.
“Do you ever feel,” he began, uncertain and longing for her to understand, “that your very existence is an opposition to what you believe?” Turning to look at her, Matthias found Inej gazing intently at the top of the rough wooden crate, dark eyes burning with a flickering light that he didn’t understand. She blinked rapidly, clearing her thoughts, then looked at him.
“Yes. Every single day.” Her earnestness and rawness was so palpable Matthias fought the urge to turn away. He recognized her ache, and resonated with it, because it had resided in his chest since the day that Hanne had told him she was a grisha. “And it’s something that I can’t change,” Inej added. “I don’t regret leaving the Menagerie. I don’t regret picking up my knives. I don’t regret my first kill. But I do regret the fact that there is something inside me that can’t reconcile with who I’ve become. The rest of me has made peace with it, and I can only hope that one day my heart will be whole, and I’ll stop hurting. But I don’t know, and I don’t think I’ll ever know, though I wish I could give you some saintly wisdom to help.” She took his hands, her calloused palms pressing against his skin. Matthias nodded, because Inej understood him. Someone understood. Without words, without detailed explanation, she knew. Inej squeezed his hands. “Good luck, Matthias. May the Saints bless your way.”
Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, Matthias retracted his hands from hers and stood. “Thank you. I’ll never—” he hesitated, then bowed his head. “Thank you.” Inej smiled, though it was laced with pain, inevitably from her wound. Turning away from her, Matthias caught both Nina and Kaz watching them. Nina’s face held an expression of both longing and protection, and the demjin held himself as still as a statue, cold and calculating. Matthias departed from Inej’s side quickly, not wanting to get in the way of either her caretaker or her soon-to-be lover. And besides, he had a heart to consider.