[ it's unbearable, this closeness paired with the distance that still remains between them. he's never wanted kaz in his arms more than in this moment, never needed the reassurance of his quiet breath or the sensation of his frigid skin warming beneath his mouth. between the blood sweeping through his thoughts and the red staining his hands, he craves the touch of his bare skin to anchor himself in something alive. he wants to ask him to stay, to stay this night and the next, his duties to ketterdam be damned. would it be such a bad thing? yes. one look at kaz, more corpse than boy right now, gives him his answer.

he tilts his cheek into kaz’s palm, desperate for the meager warmth he imagines bleeding through the leather of his gloves. you needn’t face it alone, a promise he wants to grasp and hold tight to his heart, but they’ve had too many nights apart already and too many ahead, a gaping, lonely emptiness awaiting him when this night ends. his eyes shutter, turning so his mouth brushes lightly over the tip of kaz’s gloved finger. after all the work they’d done to coax them off and he’s the reason kaz wears them again now, no excuse but his own selfish need to be touched. ]

But I do. [ need to face it alone. he draws in a steadying breath, finding the tattered edges of his composure and settling it around him like a familiar mantle, patched up again and again with brand new fraying threads. he wants desperately to take this comfort from kaz, to let himself be weak and hollow if only for a few moments more, but the scent of blood hangs too strongly in the air, reality pushing against him on all sides. he opens his eyes, his features carefully schooled back into casual dignity. ] The monster has me in a place where I can’t reach you, and you certainly shouldn’t be reaching for me.

[ an argument weakened, perhaps, by the way he grips kaz’s hand even tighter as he says it, as if it will pain him to let go, as if he hopes kaz can hear the things left unsaid. impossible to know if he even can, brilliant deduction skills hindered by lack of experience in matters of the heart. if you love a thing, you fear its loss. perhaps true, but unacceptable — or at least something he’d rather largely ignore. he doesn’t have to give voice to how his fear is eating him alive. ]

If you love a thing, the work is never done. [ a mild correction. maybe one kaz will bristle beneath, but it’s a truth nikolai has lived by his entire life. he helps kaz to his feet when he stands, bearing the weight of his bad leg and holding him steady as the boat rocks beneath them at the movement. with a flash of a smile, he sweeps a fur blanket around kaz’s shoulders before they cross to the other side to the waiting bed of blankets and cushions that nikolai lowers kaz to without asking, propping an overstuffed pillow beneath his leg. he scurries back to fetch the lamp, setting it close to warm them, and then perches on one of the storage trunks bracketing the small space, the bottle of brandy dangling loosely in one hand and the tea in the other. he wants badly to slide down beside him, enough clothing and soft furs to separate them, but he hesitates nonetheless, watching the moonlight cast colorless shadows along kaz’s sharp angles.

he swings his gaze upward to catch sight of the stars instead, something else to focus on, but kaz’s presence is like a magnetic force that brings him to his knees, sliding close so he can tilt his chin upward to follow the path of his eyes. this is the thing he wanted all along, and it feels wrong and right at once, kaz’s blue eyes catching the light, his lashes dark and cheeks pale. nikolai’s mouth doesn’t brush his ear when he speaks, his voice low, but he imagines that it does, imagines his lips dragging along the cut of his jaw, licking at his pulse, feeling the steady — or unsteady — cadence of life beneath his skin. he swallows and looks up again instead, brandy and tea both forgotten on the slate trunk tops. ]

That’s the raven. [ he points to a faint, boxy constellation to the far left. ] I’ve heard any number of stories about each one, a different one at each new city, but it so happens that a god asked this sacred raven to watch over his pregnant lover. The lover went off and fell in love with another man, and the god’s wrath toward the raven was so great that he scorched its wings and left them blackened as punishment. [ he fusses with a corner of the blanket, smoothing his hand down kaz’s side and stopping when he feels the bandage beneath the soft fur. a lonely, jarring reminder to let go. he leans back on his hands and smiles, achingly sweet. ] I always liked the mariner’s compass best, though. You can’t see it tonight, but — maybe in Fjerda. If we’re lucky and the new queen and king don’t throw me in prison for a laugh.