The Imperial Guard, ch. 20

The Imperial Guard, ch. 20

Chapter Twenty

“Vic, I don’t know if anyone ever told you this, but all living things have to change to survive.”

Lately, he had noticed, it seemed like she was the only one who kept her shoulders straight and squared when she stared out the window. He watched her as she stood facing the hill that lead to the Carmine border, hands resting lightly on her forearms. Perfectly at ease.

“I know that,” he muttered to his feet.

“You do? Really?” She looked over her shoulder with an arch grin. “You could’ve fooled me.”

***

“This sucks.”

The sound of his daughter’s boundless wisdom snapped Victor out of his daydream, and he glanced over to see Amara standing at the open doorway. Like her mother, her hands rested on her forearms as she waited, but her bitten fingernails dug deep into the skin. He opened his mouth to tell her to close the door before she caught a cold, but Reiselle spoke first.

“There‘s no helping it.” Reiselle leaned against the wall next to Amara, and Victor almost laughed. It was difficult for anyone to dwarf Reiselle. “You think I don’t want to be there, too? But if someone recognized me, we wouldn’t be able to stay here.”

“You have a reason, Rei,” Amara retorted. “But I’m-”

“What would you do if you were there?”

“I know already,” Amara said. “I know I can‘t help. It still feels like I’m sitting on my ass while they’re doing all the work for me.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Reiselle said as she laid a hand on Amara’s shoulder. “That’s part of leadership, like it or not.”

She gripped her arms tighter. “I don’t.”

Reiselle offered a smile, and Victor could vaguely remember how it used to look: shy, uncertain, and pleasantly simple. “So change it.”

***

Catalin didn’t believe it was vanity when he called himself ‘handsome’ - he was just repeating what he’d been told too many times to count. Hell, a visiting dignitary from Ravilia had rediscovered her long-forgotten dream to become an artist after Catalin served her tea. There was no point to denying his own looks.

It was that more than anything that made the raised eyebrows, even disgusted glances at the secondhand gown, so infuriating.

The man at the front door checking the invitations cleared his throat a little too loudly before handing it off to another, who announced, “Lady Colette Kasshen and guest!”

Catalin set his mouth in a firm line before starting to stumble his way down the stairs. Espen walked a few paces in front of him. “What’s with all the wobbling? That’s barely even a heel.”

“They pinch,” Catalin growled as he ground his teeth together. The wig was damn heavy, and he could barely hold his head up straight. “I guess you didn’t have any trouble in your cross-dressing days.”

“… it doesn’t look convincing if you don’t hold my arm,” Espen said. To his marginal credit, it seemed the least embarrassing way to offer his help.

“We don’t have to look convincing,” Catalin said, and clutched the banister for support instead. “I figured it out on the way here. Colette is being forced to date you against her will.”

“It goes both ways, I’m sure,” Espen said as they reached the floor, sighing under Catalin’s direct glare. “So I take it this means you don’t want to dance?” Another flat stare. “I was joking.” When Catalin still didn’t reply, Espen gave up. “I need some water. Wait by the buffet table.”

“I’m not going to just…” Catalin then caught said of said buffet table, and blurted out entirely against his will, “Is that fountain made of chocolate?”

“This is how it’ll be, huh…” Espen adjusted his tie. “I don’t remember signing up to babysit when I enlisted.”

Catalin’s eyes narrowed. “I was just making an observation.”

“… wasn’t scolding you,” Espen said, almost under his breath, as he walked away. “It’s natural for children to act like children.”

Catalin blinked at Espen’s retreating back. I was just called a child, he thought, as he reached over and absently speared a slice of apple with a toothpick. That’s rare, now that I think about it. For the most part, few people ever treated him like one, let alone acknowledged it. Rakan always did, of course, but Rakan was a bleeding heart. He didn’t count.

Then again, I was better off as a child. He stuck the apple under the chocolate fountain. No matter how much I cried, I always used to be able to pull myself together on the count of three.

Catalin spared his hand a second’s glance, long enough to confirm that it was still shaking. He had been counting throughout the entire carriage ride to the Citadel.

That probably won’t come back, will it? Not like it was.

“I’m just saying, it’s scary, isn’t it?”

Catalin recognized the voice as Saphie’s, but she spoke in a cloying, saccharine tone that she usually lacked. She stood a little way down the buffet table from him, and Catalin could tell she’d shifted her conversation towards him to keep a close eye while Espen was away. He bit the inside of his mouth. Thanks for the vote of confidence there, Saphie.

Saphie, blissfully unaware of his annoyance, clenched her fists against her collarbone with a small whine. “It would have been better if they kept quiet…” Of course. That was what her job was - to gauge public opinion on the rebellion. Criticizing it seemed a bit obvious to Catalin, but she sold it.

“Don’t say things like that, Saphie…” The woman standing opposite Saphie was a little older than her, and her hair was as dark as Catalin’s. He recognized her as the second daughter of the Cambria family; she came to the mansion to play with Eliade a few times. “I can understand a little.”

“What?” Saphie’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Catalin strained to hear. “Don’t tell me, Rosie-”

“No… don’t misunderstand me.” Rose Cambria shook her head. “But if I were younger, I might be tempted. I’m a little jealous of them.”

Saphie hummed in agreement. “It’s smarter, what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think it’s that, really.” Her back was turned, but Catalin heard the wry smile. “I just don’t have the energy anymore.”

Catalin thought, We sought out a tough crowd this time. The Myrrh aristocracy who attended the Citadel Ball were all from families who had pledged allegiance to Anwar. He supposed Kathleen Tremont had wanted to make it difficult.

“Here. Water.” Espen reappeared, all but shoving the glass into Catalin’s nose. He would have preferred wine - or better yet, something harder- but he took it without complaint, setting it onto the table next to him. Espen ignored him for a good minute before grunting, “They’re not staring at you like that because you look strange. At least most of ‘em aren’t, I think.”

Catalin dipped another apple slice into the chocolate fountain. “Hm?”

“It’s likely they’ve never seen a Kasshen at the Citadel Ball before,” Espen said. “Most of your family refuses the invitation, like it somehow makes things better.” He made a low, rumbling sound in his throat. “Doesn’t make much of a difference, if you ask me.”

The noble narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“It‘s not gonna hurt their feelings,” Espen retorted. “Look at how they distanced themselves from Celeste after her death. Hell, look at what they did to you. Doesn’t say much for their principles.”

Oh, principles. Must be nice, having those. He stifled the remark with another apple slice. By the time he swallowed, he’d calmed down. “You don’t have to stand next to me this whole time. We still have ten minutes. We’ll be screaming at each other in three.”

Espen frowned. “No. I’m supposed to be guarding you.”

“Which can be done from over there,” Catalin said, gesturing to an opposite corner. “You were her second officer, right? It shouldn’t be a problem.”

The frown deepened. “I’m your escort. It’s not going to be convincing if we stand apart.”

“So all I have to do is make it convincing?” Catalin rounded on Espen, drew his hand back, and slapped him across the face.

He hadn’t meant to hit hard, not really - more out of concern for what Espen’s skull would do to his hand. But he must have put more power into it than he’d thought, because Espen spun half around and braced himself against the table. He rounded on Catalin, and Catalin stepped back into a defensive stance when Espen’s arm twitched, but he merely reached across him, picked up his glass, and sauntered away.

Catalin looked around just long enough to see how many people were staring (quite a few), but when he lowered his eyes and reached for the closest thing on the table to stuff into his mouth, the other party guests lost interest and returned to their conversations. High society or not, Catalin figured, it was still a party. Drama running high was nothing new.

He returned his stare to the clock. Nine more minutes. Maybe I should slap him again just to kill some more time.

As he finally started to taste what he’d just eaten, he realized that, for what must have been weeks now, he’d been too on-edge to eat a proper meal. Granted, the h'orderves stacked around him barely counted, but he commandeered a platter of crackers and cheese and watched every second go by. Whatever happened once the fighting started couldn’t be as bad as the waiting.

At the five-minute mark, someone laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lady Kasshen.”

Catalin didn’t react to the touch; he’d been caught off-guard enough lately that it was becoming a cliché. But when he saw who the speaker was, he nearly tripped in his haste to stumble backwards, and spilled his water across the table. “Ah!”

“Whoa there…” Jaden Cardei, future Sixth Division Commandant of the Carmine Guard, was sharp enough to notice that Catalin’s surprise came a little late, but he seemed to shrug it off. “You okay?”

Catalin wasn’t as good at shrugging things off as Jaden. He was supposed to be the “expert” on the Carmine Guardians - why had he told everyone that none of them would be there? How had he forgotten that Jaden Cardei was a noble?

Well, granted, it’s probably because he wears that powder blue tux to every event-

He cut himself off there. If he survived the evening, he could indulge in the usual commentary. Still too surprised to affect a fake voice, Catalin nodded and murmured, “Mmm.”

“Sorry to surprise you.” Jaden said, and his grin shifted to a lopsided angle. “What are you doing over here all by yourself? You have a fight with your escort?”

Catalin realized, entirely too late, that keeping Espen closer to him would have been a better idea. But I didn’t know someone would be desperate enough to talk to me! He cleared his throat to buy himself a little more time, and finally managed, “I don’t really like parties.” It was true enough.

“Well, you’re not going to have any fun over here!” Jaden laughed; Catalin smelled red wine on his breath, but not so much that the Guardian wouldn‘t realize something wasn’t right. “You’ve been out of the country a while, milady. No use in sulking in the corner.”

Catalin cringed. Oh God, no.

Jaden bowed and offered his hand. “May I ask for the next dance?”

***

After spending five minutes pressed against Kite, Chris grudgingly had to admit that he’d never laugh off Catalin’s whining again.

On second thought, Chris mused, maybe his friend didn’t know how good he had it. After all, Catalin had never been sandwiched between Kite and a full dumpster before.

Chris tried to shift to a position that made it easier to breathe, but since it seemed to be impossible, he gave up and slumped against the edge of the dumpster, trying to ignore the copious amounts of arm hair pressed against his face. Which was a bit tough. It tickled. Shoved up against his chest was Catalin’s weapon; the knives had been small enough to carry with him, but it was impossible to hide the sword. If Catalin got to the back door, Chris would give it to him then.

He frowned. When, not if. He’d been spending too much time around pessimists.

It could have been worse. The security in the back of the Citadel was nonexistent compared to the armored guard posted in front; it was a party for disgraced Myrrh nobles, after all. There was no reason to cause any trouble there. Anwar was militarily-minded, so it made sense that an emotional appeal hadn’t occurred to him. He had to admit, Tremont’s mother would be an asset. Even if it meant more time spent under her appraising stare.

“Sorry, Turner,” Kite muttered, so quietly that Chris wouldn’t have heard had they not been so close. “It’s a bit tight in here, ah?”

Chris smiled grimly. Better Kite than Damian, he supposed. Poor Talia had gotten stuck with him when they split up to hide. “It‘s fine,” he whispered back, “I’m not your type.”

Kite’s chest vibrated with the barely-suppressed version of his belly laugh. “Nah, but not for the reason you think. No offense.” Chris turned his head the best he could to signal that he was listening; it was more entertaining than squirming, and besides, Kite got talkative when he was nervous. Kite continued, “Bein’ level-headed is a good thing, don‘t get me wrong. But it’d be like mackin’ on Tal, which… yeah.”

He almost laughed himself. “You like them irrational, then? Guess I know why you like Cat.”

“Tell me about it.” Kite nodded, but he looked oddly unsure. “I like incurably stubborn bastards like that. Always have.” A long pause. “What do you think he was talkin’ about, earlier?”

“Why ask me?”

“Well,” he said, “you’re the one who speaks Cat-language.”

Chris blinked. He could understand how Catalin might be hard to understand, but he had an advantage. He knew just as well as Catalin the importance of acting according to expectations sometimes. When you took all that away, Catalin was easy to figure out: too arrogant about some things and too insecure about others, more naïve than any cynic had a right to be, and too used to being scared to notice it much anymore.

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” Kite interrupted his musing with a snort. “He’ll be fine. I wouldn’t waste my time on him otherwise.”

For a moment, Chris wanted to point out what a short memory Kite had. It hadn’t been two months since Catalin had stumbled back to the brothel covered in his own blood, after all. But - as he remembered the words Catalin had scoffed when they first met, as if it were a given - he realized he knew better.

And hell if he was going to say that out loud.

“Honestly,” Chris said with a heavy sigh, “if he could be a little less high-maintenance…”

Kite echoed the sigh. “I hear that.”

Directly across from them, Chris could see Talia hunched in an alcove, the tight line of her mouth visible even in the dark. Damian sat behind her; his expression was shadowed, but Chris saw his hand lift and hover above her shoulder for a few seconds, before Damian’s fingers twitched, and he withdrew the arm to his side.

Well, Chris figured with a shrug, it was a start.

***

“I, uh…” Catalin inched along the buffet table, hoping he could get far enough away from Jaden to make a break for it. “That is to say…”

“Aww, c’mon now, don’t panic,” Jaden said with a patient smile. Catalin clenched his fist and tried to suppress the urge to punch him in the teeth. “It’s one dance. We might make that escort of yours jealous.”

“I-I would,” Catalin said, “but there’s a problem…”

“Problem?” Jaden said. “What might that be?”

“So sorry I’m late, Lady Kasshen!”

Catalin couldn’t have said where on earth he came from, but suddenly Edmund Winter, Saphie’s fiancé, was standing at his arm. As Catalin struggled to regain his composure, Edmund took over, saying, “Oh, Lord Cardei, I didn’t see you standing here! I apologize… Lady Kasshen here promised me the next dance. Though I’m sure she was too embarrassed to say so.”

“Ah…” Jaden’s smile flickered, and as the panic ebbed, Catalin realized he had probably struck out with all the actual females. “Well, perhaps later, then,” he said, with a short bow of his head as he backed off towards the chocolate fountain.

Catalin barely had a chance to thank Edmund before the older man put a gloved hand on his waist. After nearly choking on air, he hissed, “What the hell’re you-”

“Go with it for now,” Edmund murmured, his immaculate smile still in place as he positioned Catalin’s hands correctly. Catalin glared down at his pure white suit; all he needed was a damned horse to match. “He’ll get suspicious if we don’t.”

“Nnn…” Catalin protested uselessly as he was pushed into an awkward two-step. “Fine. Just don’t-”

Whatever he didn’t want Edmund to do was lost as he lurched forward, and his would-be partner expertly dragged him through the steps and kept him on his feet at the same time. His smile, though, took on a hint of mischief. “I thought Guardians of the Second Division were supposed to be nimble.”

“Well, forgive me for being inexperienced,” he said to Edmund’s feet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Edmund laughed. “You’re doing fine. Just relax a little bit.”

“Yes. Relax,” Catalin said between gritted teeth. Of course. It was easy to relax when he was being manhandled.

There was a brief pause, and Edmund said, “I apologize for teasing you. I have a brother about your age - I’m afraid it’s a bit of a habit.” Another beat. “You’re seventeen, right?”

Catalin frowned, more out of surprise than any offense. If anything, he was often mistaken for older. “I’ll be nineteen this spring.”

“Older than I thought.” Catalin didn’t want to look away from the motions of Edmund‘s feet, but the voice was nostalgic. “Still young, though.” Catalin only nodded - everyone had certainly picked an odd time to start treating him like a child. “I have something of a confession to make.”

He did look up this time. He felt the heavy wig slip a little. Please don’t tell me about your love life. I don’t think I can handle it right now. “Mm?”

“I used to come to the palace frequently when I was younger, you know,” Edmund said. “My family was one of those who… well, we were on good terms with the Imperial family, so I played there often. And I saw you often, too. Usually working. Usually by yourself. And I always thought that maybe I should help… or at least talk to you, since nobody else seemed to.” His own steps faltered just a little, but he quickly regained his stride. “But I was afraid of what would happen if someone saw me with you, so I never…”

Catalin listened to Edmund’s story impassively, unsure of how to respond when he trailed off and glanced away. At length, remembering his earlier conversation with Espen, he sighed, “Not everyone can afford to stick to their principles. Not lately.”

To his surprise, Edmund laughed. “Saphie’s said something very similar before.”

“She did?” Catalin said. “Seems fatalistic for Saphie.”

“Fatalism comes with the territory, I’m told,” Edmund said. “In any case… I know there’s only so much I can do, as a doctor, but if I can help with something, don’t hesitate to ask, all right?”

Catalin started to say that he would be fine on his own, but under Edmund’s hopeful stare, he could only smile awkwardly. “I will.”

“Oh, yes,” Edmund said with another laugh, “she’s said that before, too.”

Catalin suddenly became aware of shouting over his shoulder - shouting that definitely didn’t belong to a lover’s spat- and stopped the graceless two-step to look. He wasn’t alone: the majority of the hall, including the orchestra, had slowed what they were doing to stare.

“Lady Kasshen, wait - a-ah, wait just a second, you don’t have an invitation-”

“Never mind that. This will only take a moment.”

He only had a few seconds to recognize the voice, but it was all he needed. It was one of the few voices he could have pulled out of a crowd, even though it had been almost a year since he’d heard it. However, Catalin only had time to take a single step backwards before Eliade Kasshen, his older sister, stood in front of him.

And she looked about ready to strangle him.

“As I thought,” Eliade said with loathing she didn’t even try to conceal, “a fake.”

“A-Ah,” Catalin stammered, looking around frantically. Still two minutes until he was set to open the door, but he couldn’t waste time. He had to think of a way to defuse her. “E-Ellie…”

“What the hell are you playing at?” Eliade spat. “Do you know what people are saying about my cousin because of you? Or was that what you wanted? To embarrass the Kasshen House just a little more?”

Edmund started to step forward, but Catalin shook his head hard, both to Eliade’s question and to stop Edmund from speaking up. He tried to catch sight of Espen, only to find him using the commotion to leave the ballroom. What happened to guarding me? he thought, in a fit of panic. “T-That isn’t-”

“Because let me tell you, we don’t need your help,” she raged on, grabbing him by the front of his ball gown and yanking him forward. His wig slipped just a little more, and he reached up to correct it, but Eliade noticed first. “Oh, you have to be kidding me with this!” she cried, and snatching a handful of curls, she pulled the wig right off of his head.

Catalin had wondered before if she would recognize him at first sight, with his hair so short. But by the look of her expression, she realized what she had done almost immediately afterwards.

Her fingers uncurled from the gown, and she took a step back, her mouth falling open as she took in his face. All activity in the ballroom had stopped, and all eyes were on him. Eliade stood with the mass of golden curls dangling uselessly from her hand as it fell to her side.

“Ca…” She swallowed. “Cata-”

Before she could say his name, the guards behind her snapped out of their daze and pushed her back behind them. The ballroom erupted into dozens of indistinguishable shouts, but above them all, Catalin could hear his older sister screaming for him. The guards closed around him in a semicircle, and Catalin found himself blocked by the buffet table. He was completely surrounded.

“Well, this is unexpected,” the front and center guard drawled, and adjusted the brim of his hat which marked him as the captain. Out of the corner of his eye, Catalin could see Edmund standing uselessly off to one side, and Saphie’s face in the crowd, ready to act. “After all that fuss, I didn’t think finding you would be this easy. Is this how you get your rocks off, Kasshen?”

Some part of Catalin’s fear-numbed mind must have still worked, because he found himself thinking, Oh joy, a talker. It was apparently too much to hope that he would think of a clever way out of this, too.

“It would seem that you’re all by yourself this time,” the captain continued as he sauntered closer. “Not very smart for a wanted man, are you?”

“Wait, wait, wait just a minute!” Jaden elbowed his way through the crowd. He had sloshed a great deal of wine onto his tuxedo in the past five minutes, but seemed steady on his feet. “This is my arrest, Fernand. Stand down.”

Fernand smirked. “I wonder if you’re sober enough to handle a pair of handcuffs at the moment, Commandant. Best let me do it, just to be safe.”

Sensing opportunity, Catalin withdrew a knife that he’d hidden in a clutch, sandwiched between his uniform shoes, and prepared to hurl it. But the guard was faster, and closed a hand around Catalin’s wrist with such force that he dropped the weapon. As the guard’s smirk widened, Catalin fixed him with a mutinous glare and attempted to pull his arm away. “Oh, don’t give me that look… you’re the one who’s in the wrong, aren’t you? In fact…” He snickered. “I’d say you’d better apologize.”

And with that, he found his brain in working order again. Reaching behind him, he gripped the back of a folding chair against the buffet table. The last time I heard that, it was from someone much more intimidating than you.

“Come on,” the guard scoffed, with a dismissive glance at Catalin’s thin arms. “What are you going to do with that?”

Catalin had a clever reply to that, but he was quickly growing annoyed with people who talked more than they fought. So instead, he lifted the chair with one arm and brought it down against Fernand as hard as he knew how.

He didn’t waste any time: the guard had barely hit the ground when he bent down, withdrew his still-sheathed saber, and stepped back into the proper stance. Jaden took another step forward, holding his hand out. “Wait! Wait, Catalin, stop. Just think for a moment, okay? I get it. I do! You have a right to be angry. But this isn’t the right way. Maybe Rakan and I, we can make things better for you somehow. But if you don’t put that sword down right now, all you’re going to do is get hurt. None of us want that, right?” When Catalin didn’t react, Jaden begged, “Come on, Catalin, this is stupid…”

Honestly… With a sigh, Catalin raised the sword. I know that much already.

As the rest of the guards drew their weapons, Jaden rubbed at his eyeball. “All right, fine. I give up. You’re under arrest.”