He still has Oomen’s blood on his gloves, he realizes, gripping the ship’s rail, trying to cage whatever feral thing had torn loose inside him, just as he’d ripped Oomen’s eyeball from its socket.

Oomen’s blood on his gloves, Inej’s coating his shirt, the fabric slick and stuck to his chest, like-

Kaz swallows back a wave of nausea and lets the rage blossom up again in its place, red hot as her life spilling out against his skin; if he has to burn to keep Inej safe, then let him blaze straight down to the embers.