Dealing with Our Demons

Whiskey Words

Dear Kaz,

I'm aware you're not much of a letter writer, but here I am forcing this upon you. Will you deign to respond? Perhaps not. But, alas, I will write anyways if only to pester you in written word in place of sitting beside you. Before you mentally ask "what business?" I shall tell you.

I took down my first ship today, Kaz. I took it down and it felt... good. I freed six girls stolen from Noyvi Zem, and they were younger than I was. They had skin the color of Jesper's and it broke my heart and also made it soar at the thought they would not be indentured the way I was; they would not have to learn vanish into the recesses of their minds.

Did you know I think I was more of a phantom before you ever gave me the name of "wraith"? Perhaps I'm emboldened by my sudden love of rum (True pirate by all standards now), but I don't think I ever felt more seen than when I became a shadow beside you in Ketterdam. Surely, you are rolling your eyes. Surely you must know I would have told you this in person, but I was... well I was afraid. Yes, The Wraith was afraid.

Thank you for seeing me in the dark, Kaz. Thank you for my ship. Thank you for my family. Thank you for my freedom. A hundred times over, thank you. Perhaps I've thanked you in my head nearly as many times as I've thanked the Saints. Don't let it go to your head.

My parents are safe, home in Ravka, back with the caravans and in the comfort of family. I did not venture with them all the way back to the caravans, I. Never mind. They do send their regards though, somehow they find you endearing. Perhaps it is a family trait to find you endearing, Kaz Brekker. How happy you must be to know that all the Ghafa's seem to like you. Don't laugh. Not even mentally.

What business, Kaz? Why do you stay rent free in my mind from an ocean away? Surely you could pass over some kruge if you are to live in my mind. You're rich enough, I'm sure.

I've drank too much and I should most definitely not send this. I guess it will be a surprise if I receive word back from you, if I remember tomorrow whether I dropped this off at post here in port. We shall see.

The crows prefer the crumbs of loaves of bread from the bakery two streets down from the Slat. I paid for three loaves before I left. Don't you dare let my murder go hungry, they like me too much. I'm teaching them manners, but they will be snarky with you, Dirtyhands.

I'll be back soon, three months perhaps. Depending on if I send this, I might have to run for a while first until you forget about this letter.

Yours,

Captain Inej Ghafa, Wraith, Spider, Terrible judgement.

Inej,

Surprise. You did send that letter. Don't run. Come home.

K. Brekker

PS- Enclosed is fifty kruge for my imaginary rent. Spend it on rum, and for the love of all things holy, keep drinking, and keep writing.

Inej stood at the rail of her ship, watching as the Ketterdam skyline came into view. A nervousness had settled over her since she received Kaz's letter a month ago. She was busy during the days, and had taken down two more ships and got all the stolen people home to whichever port they requested. A sense of fulfilling happiness settled over her, every time she thought of them, getting home to their families. The wind picked up and curled salty air into the loose waves of her hair, she'd left it unbound. Surely only because the braid was tight and bothering her, not for any other reason. Definitely not in case Kaz Brekker himself showed up on the docks today, he wouldn't care about her hair being down anyways, she told herself.