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Kaz let the necklace spill through his gloved fingers and back into the box of twinkling gold.
It was such a waste, leaving a pile of gold to gather dust in a hidden desk drawer. He knew the nearest jeweler would give him a tidy sum of kruge for it; Ghezen knew the Dregs needed it, since their last operation scraped their coffers clean. It was in everyone’s best interests to sell the gold.
But he knew he wouldn’t.
It started out as a simple, insignificant event. He had walked past the display case of the Financial District jeweler, when he saw the glimmering golden chain resting in an open velvet case. Fine filigree, simple clasp, stopping just at the collarbone. He’d bought it without hesitation. Even though he held the necklace to the candlelight that night to inspect its value, and found none, he hadn’t returned it. Instead, he tucked it away in a padlocked box stashed in his desk.
Then came the bracelets. They should have been the warning flag, the sign that should have tipped him off; but again, he only flung a few coins on a jeweler’s countertop and swept out of the shop, this time clutching a case that held a pair of thin gold bangles. He threw them in the same box holding the necklace, frustrated after another fruitless examination into the night.
It started an addiction within him. Headdresses, earrings, anklets—all gold. The box started to fill with them, shining brightly in the night as if to taunt him. Look at us, they sang, revel in our glory that entices you so powerfully.
Strangely enough, he failed to hunger for coins the same way, despite their similar golden sheen. No matter how strong his desire for kruge drove him, Kaz never bothered to take his spoils out and run his hands through them. He wasn’t a miser like Van Eck.
Kaz held back a sigh of exasperation, reminding himself to stay patient. If he’d bought them just from a single glance in a jeweler’s window display, there’s certainly some value in the gold. He slid his hand into the pile of jewelry once more, searching for another piece to scrutinize.
He pulled out a sparkling hand chain decorated with exquisite star cuts and relit the flickering candle on his desk.
The thought came almost absentmindedly as he took his magnifying glass in hand: this would complement Inej well.
The honesty behind the unspoken statement startled him and caused the magnifying glass to slip from his hand, which shattered symphonically on the floorboards.
Why, why would I think of such a thing?
Kaz stuffed the chain back inside the box, snapping the lid of the container shut. He carefully reminded himself to burn the thing after the next heist.
The box remained in his desk.
Kaz began to notice how Nina and Jesper adorned themselves with elaborate earrings and necklaces, Matthias and Wylan in simple brooches and bracelets, Kaz himself with his silver headed cane and matching cape pin.
Inej wore nothing.
A pity, he mused. The pair of gold bangles he bought would go well with her slender arms.
Jesper noticed Kaz staring at Inej, raised his eyebrows, but let no comment slip from his mouth. Wise of him.
Kaz thought about how Inej’s hands—delicate when selecting her daggers, deadly when using them—could seem more fantastical in movement with golden hand chains slipping between them. Whenever she tilted her head back to laugh at something Nina said, he wondered which hoarded necklace would emphasize the curve of her neck.
And when Inej accidentally brushed his hand against his when he gave her a pouch of kruge for Jesper and Nina to spend, Kaz needed to clear his throat to force back his newest thought: rings would make her fingers as holy as saints.