After almost two years at sea, Inej loses her crew, her ship, and nearly her life in a deadly storm and washes ashore in Ravka. Unsure if this is a sign from the saints that her journey on the seas is almost complete or simply a challenge that she must overcome, she sets out to find Nina and plead for whatever help she can give. When she reaches the Little Palace, starved and injured and half-dead, she discovers that Nina is in Fjerda, but King Nikolai himself promises to help her instead. He gifts Inej a new ship and a crew after she rests and heals, in exchange for the chance to join her, as Sturmhond, on one last voyage to take down a notorious slaver who has been terrorizing Ravka.

Their first interactions on the ship are hostile at best. Inej bristles at the insufferable, sarcastic privateer with a penchant for the dramatic and a reputation to match. But after a time, she starts to suspect that Nikolai is even more haunted than she, even more of a captive to darkness and pain, despite the way he presents himself. Sometimes she catches herself staring at his perpetually gloved hands and wonders, and eventually finds herself remembering another boy who never removed his gloves—except around her. Whenever she talks about her saints to the rest of the crew, especially Sankta Alina, she notices sadness drawn in every line on Nikolai’s face, though she can’t imagine why.

One night when they are alone on deck, they sit at the prow and begin to talk, looking up at the stars. Slowly, haltingly, they share their stories with each other. Inej senses that Nikolai is twisting the truth in places, withholding information, but she can’t claim that she’s being entirely honest, either. Regardless, she’s found a friend in the young king by the end of the night. After they take down the slaver, Nikolai sends Inej on her way with her ship and crew, promising that she will always have a friend and ally in Ravka, should she ever return. She sets a course straight for Ketterdam; there’s another friend she’d very much like to see, if only for a little while.

nina had grieved for her loss of power, for the connection she’d felt to the living world. she’d resented this shadow gift. it had seemed like a sham, a punishment. but just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. it was that endless, fast-running river. she’d dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand.

gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone. and then, the other, more fragile gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing.

“let us say, hypothetically, of course, that the ravkan king has intelligence networks that reach deep within kerch, fjerda, and the shu han, and that he knows exactly how important kuwei yul-bo could be to the future of his country. let us say that king would trust no one to negotiate such matters but himself, but that he also knows how dangerous it is to travel under his own name when his country is in turmoil, when he has no heir and the lantsov succession is in no way secured.”

“so hypothetically, you might be addressed as your highness.”

“before we join hands and jump off a cliff together, i want to know exactly who i’m running with.”

sturmhond lifted a brow. “we haven’t been on a road trip or exchanged clothes, but i think our introductions were civilized enough.”

“who are you really, privateer?”

“is this an existential question?”

“no proper thief talks the way you do.”

“how narrow-minded of you.”

“People were created to be loved. Things were created to be used. The reason why the world is in chaos is because things are being loved and people are being used.”

the imitation game (2014); dir. morten tyldum

“she had a way of seeing the beauty in others.”

❝ It takes real character to admit one’s failures – and not a little wisdom to take your profits from defeat, but remember, this man’s world of yours will never be without pain and suffering until it learns love, and respect for human rights. Keep your hands extended to all in friendliness but never holding the gun of persecution and intolerance.❞

She stopped and looked back. For a moment Harry had the strangest feeling that she wanted to say something to him: she gave him an odd, tremulous look and seemed to teeter on the edge of speech.