Chapter Eleven

“Why not?”

Chris tensed as Kite’s fist smashed into the wall, nearly jarring a nearby photograph to the floor. But Damian stared back at the much larger man, and calmly asked, “And what do you think you would do when you got there?”

“Find him, obviously!” Kite was glaring at Damian as if he’d punch him next. “What else?”

“No.” Damian shook his head. “I’m not leading a charge, here. For all we know, Cat got sidetracked, and he’s on his way back right now.”

“Then why’re you two goin’?” Kite yelled, jabbing a finger at Damian and Talia. “Don’t tell me that it’s ‘just in case,’ because I don’t-”

“Kite.” Talia brushed past Damian to place herself directly in front of Kite, looking up at him without flinching. “You are not helping.”

“… can’t you find somethin’ for me to do?” Kite deflated. “Cat might be-”

“On his way home right now. We don’t know. But if he’s still in that place, we’ll find him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or do you not trust me to do my job?”

“Kite…” Saphie moved alongside him, putting a hand on his forearm and attempting a smile. “Let’s make sure there’s someone to let him in if he comes back, okay?”

“I’m so sorry…” Victor moaned, for the fifth time since he’d blurted out the contents of his conversation with Catalin earlier that evening. “I don’t know what I was thinking…”

For the first time since he’d known him, Chris wanted to hit Victor. He at least wanted to inform Victor that he better damn well be sorry. But his throat had gone completely dry. He was finding it impossible to say much of anything.

“Apologies can come later,” Reiselle interrupted before Victor could go any further. She looked like she could have said more to him, but she turned to Damian and Talia, instead. “If he’s been found, they might have taken him back to the palace already.”

When Damian nodded, Amara finally spoke up again. “But that wouldn’t be too hard, right? Getting into the palace?” She bit her lip. “You’ve done it before, so…”

“That was… different, Your Highness,” Reiselle said, frowning. “Security is fairly lax on Unification Day. Anwar wasn’t expecting any setbacks then, but now-”

“Not too hard at all,” Damian cut in, flashing his brightest smile. “So don’t worry about it.”

“Leader,” Talia said. “We should go.”

Damian nodded in assent, before waving cheerfully to Amara. “We’ll be back before long, okay?”

Then Chris finally remembered how to talk again.

“Please let me come!”

Damian didn’t even turn around. “No.”

“There’s no reason not to take me!” Chris protested. “If they did take him back to the palace already, I can help!”

“And if we were captured, too, who would come and get us? Kite and Saphie, by themselves? We can’t turn this into a huge situation out of panic.” Damian shook his head. “So wait here unless you hear otherwise. You can do that much, right?” He paused. “I’ll leave any decisions to you for the time being, Saphie.”

“Of course…” She nodded.

And with that, Damian left the room, not even waiting for Talia. She lingered for a moment, her gaze flickering back to Kite, but she followed, shutting the living room door behind her.

“Wait, he says…” Kite sank onto the couch with a hollow laugh, his head buried in his hands.

Chris echoed the sentiment fully.

***

“Come on, Catalin…” Celeste sighed heavily. “Stop crying? Please?”

Catalin made a valiant effort, rubbing at his eyes so hard that they hurt a little. But at the next clap of thunder, all his efforts dissolved into a fresh wail.

“Catalin,” she repeated, sounding a bit desperate, “it’s nothing to be afraid of! I promise! It’s just… uh… well, I don’t remember the exact explanation right now, but it’s very natural and scientific and… you don’t actually care about that, do you.”

“It’s loud,” he mewled, cringing.

“Then don’t listen.” Reaching forward, she cupped her hands over his ears. “Better?”

He could hear a low rumbling noise in Celeste’s hands, like the sound of running water. It didn’t quite drown out the noises, but it muffled them. “Mm.”

“Good.” Her thumbs made little circles against his scalp. “Your aunt did this for me a few times. She’d tell me to pretend I was at the bottom of the ocean.” Catalin shook his head vehemently to that. “No ocean?” she asked archly. He shook his head again. He couldn’t swim. “Well then, is there any place you want to be?”

“… in battle,” he mumbled.

Celeste let out a loud laugh, pulling him into her chest as she howled. “In battle… God, you’re too cute. All right then. We’re in battle.”

Catalin didn’t reply to that. Celeste didn’t usually talk to him this long. If he called attention to it, she might remember something she had to do. He merely pushed in closer. Even over the roar of her hands, he could hear her humming something.

“What’s that?” he murmured.

“A battle song,” Celeste said.

Catalin knew it wasn’t. He let her get away with it anyway.

***

Derrick Baltus was talking to him.

Not that Catalin was listening. He normally tried to listen when such an important person addressed him. But he was too tired to care. What was Baltus doing waking him up anyway? That was Rakan’s job, not his. And he didn’t have to go and turn on the lights in Catalin’s face – the fluorescence was hurting his eyes. He started to close them again.

He’d barely registered that his room didn’t have any fluorescent lights before Baltus backhanded him across the face.

Catalin snapped awake.

“Are you listening now?” Baltus asked, his voice tight.

Catalin blinked, looking around himself the best he could. He was still in Baltus’ office, lying on the floor, but all the lights had been turned on now. Baltus knelt on the floor next to him, his face showing none of its usual confidence. Catalin’s cap and jacket had been removed. He could see them piled on a chair in the corner. He didn’t see his weapon anywhere.

The room gave a sharp jerk as Catalin saw the dark stains soaked into his jacket, but Baltus shook him harder.

“Listen to me.” Baltus’ voice was loud as he shook him again. “I did what I could for you, but I’m no substitute for a real doctor.”

Catalin was barely listening. All he could manage to think was, He stabbed me, he stabbed me, and each time he thought it, he felt his breathing grow quicker. He really wished it would stop that. It only made him dizzier.

“Catalin!” Baltus was almost yelling now. “You have a doctor wherever it is you’re staying, don’t you? If you tell me where that is, I’ll take you back there.”

He could have laughed. Wouldn’t you like to know? Baltus must have thought he was stupid. Keeping his breathing steady, Catalin shook his head.

“I just want to take you back,” Baltus said. “I’m not going to do anything else.”

Baltus thought he was really stupid. He gulped enough air to manage a whispered “No.”

“Listen.” The soldier’s breath was hissing through his teeth. “Whatever it is you people are doing there is one thing. But if you don’t give me an answer, I’m going to have to take you to a Carmine doctor.”

What a liar. Baltus was ordered to find him, after all. Catalin wished he would stop playing around and take him to Anwar already. “No,” he repeated louder, flinching as his torso throbbed.

He half-expected the soldier to hit him again. But Baltus merely stood. “The windows and doors are locked,” he said, “so don’t try to move. You’ll just make yourself worse.” Catalin heard his footsteps leave the room, and a few seconds later, the click of the door closing.

Catalin lay back, unclenching his fists and breathing in as deeply as he could; it was painful, but it made him feel less sick. “Okay,” he murmured, willing himself to be calm. “Okay… okay.” He was fine. It couldn’t be that bad. He was alert enough to know what was going on – that counted for something, right?

Cautiously, his hand slid down to his torso, and he touched the thick canvas of a jacket. Baltus’, he realized. That was strange. Why didn’t Baltus just use Catalin’s?

As he caught sight of his own jacket again, he realized: He used that until it soaked through. The room seemed dimmer until he took a few steadying gulps of air. Don’t panic, he told himself. You’re fine. He was. He was sure he was. He only felt so sick because he was panicking.

He’d just shut his eyes until he felt less dizzy.

***

Fanel Cross lied all the time.

Catalin knew that he wasn’t supposed to, of course. Rakan said that Fanel was going to be an Imperial Guardian one day, just like him, and Catalin knew that Imperial Guardians were supposed to be like Rakan. Fanel wasn’t.

But Catalin didn’t like to contradict Fanel, either. He’d tried it once, when Fanel lied to the maids about locking Catalin in the storage closet, but when Catalin told Rakan about it, Fanel only locked him in again. Said it was part of the rules.

Even so, Catalin shook his head.

“No?” Fanel looked down at Catalin with polite interest. “No, I assure you, it’s true. Your cousin is dead.”

Catalin shook his head harder. “No, she’s not.” Of all the things to lie about. Did Fanel think Catalin was stupid?

“Fanel,” Tima Dorian giggled, “you know we’re not supposed to tell him about that!” Tima was supposed to be a Guardian, too, but just because she was saying it didn’t make it true. Tima was always going along with whatever Fanel said.

“She’s not!” Catalin repeated, balling his fists. “They would have told me!”

“About that, His Highness told us not to tell you, you see. Out of consideration for you.” Fanel looked sympathetic. “So I’m afraid she can’t come and beat me up for you.”

“Stop it!” Catalin wasn’t crying because he believed Fanel or anything. He was just getting frustrated, and he couldn’t help but cry when he was frustrated, and he didn’t want to cry in front of a jerk like Fanel but now he couldn’t stop. “I said she’s not!”

“Now, now, what’s all this?” Through his tears, Catalin could see Baltus approaching Fanel and Tima, his expression stern but calm, and Rakan tagging along by his side. “You two have been told not to pick on him.”

“Catalin!” Rakan broke away from Baltus to run over to Catalin, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, what’s wrong? What did he say to you?”

By that point, Catalin was crying too hard to do much but cling to the front of Rakan’s shirt. But Tima spoke up first, with a tattletale whine. “Master Baltus, Fanel told Catalin about his cousin!”

Catalin’s sobs slowed a little as he looked up, anxious to hear Baltus reprimand Fanel. Instead, he found the soldier’s calm completely gone. “You told him?” he asked, his voice completely unfamiliar.

Catalin stopped crying.

***

When Catalin wrenched himself awake for the third time, he decided not to close his eyes again.

He was shivering by that point; the floor of Baltus’ office was freezing, and he no longer had a jacket. He couldn’t help but remember how warm he’d been that morning, curled up in the basement of the brothel, until Chris had shoved him out of bed.

Chris would have known exactly what to do. Chris had been learning to do this since he was four years old - and on top of that, he was smart. Far smarter than Catalin. They were all smart: Talia, Saphie, even Damian. Maybe not Kite, but if Kite were there with him, he wouldn’t just get Catalin out, but he’d put the opposition through a wall in the process. Any of them would know what to do.

The only one who didn’t know what to do was Catalin.

He shuddered again, flinching at the movement. Why had he come here alone again? Hadn’t Victor told him that it wouldn’t hurt to wait? Though Victor had been looking at him as if he wanted him to do it, common sense should have told him that something like this would happen. Any of them would have come with him. They acted as if he couldn’t take two steps alone - that was why he’d left without saying anything in the first place.

Celeste would have been in and out without anyone spotting her. Catalin’s breathing hitched, but he forced it to remain even, thinking, Yes, well, I’m not Celeste.

It seemed as if Baltus had been gone for a long time. It probably hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes, in reality, but it felt longer. He hoped that Baltus was confident in his first aid skills; Catalin guessed that he’d know if he was bleeding to death, but he wasn’t Saphie, either.

Maybe that’s the plan, he thought. Maybe he’ll leave me here until I convince myself that I’m dying, and then he’ll try getting answers out of me again. He had to admit, it sounded effective. Especially if Baltus had heard from Rakan how nervous he got at the sight of blood.

Rakan definitely hadn’t heard yet. He would be there trying to hold Catalin’s hand if he knew, the sap. Catalin almost laughed at the thought.

He could feel the vibrations of footsteps approaching Baltus’ office. But there were a pair of voices present now, and neither of them belonged to Baltus.

“I can’t believe he has us fetching decade-old files,” a young man’s voice sighed. “I don’t see how this helps us catch the insurgents at all!”

“Just be patient!” replied a cheery female voice. “You know Master Baltus, he always has something in mind…” There was a knock at the door.

Catalin hadn’t heard either voice for years, but he had no trouble recognizing them. Panic surged into his chest as he struggled to sit up, but he couldn’t make the lower half of his body move.

“The lights are on, Tima. Let’s just drop these off and go.”

And Fanel Cross and Tima Dorian opened the door.

A surge of adrenaline brought feeling back into Catalin’s legs, and he propelled himself to his knees, crawling towards the window. Fanel was quicker, and he was above Catalin in minutes, pinning him down with a foot against his back.

Catalin hit the floor with a muffled whimper, a fresh surge of pain bringing the nausea back in full force, but it didn’t stop him from struggling against Fanel’s hold. He tried to drag himself along the floor - the window was right above his head…

“It’s been such a long time!” Fanel’s voice exclaimed above him. “We haven’t seen you for a few years now, have we, Tima?”

“Not for a few years!” Tima repeated. Catalin could see her twirling a dyed-pink curl around her finger. “We’ve just been so busy. But I hear you’re a revolutionary now or something!”

Their conversational tone just made Catalin more panicked. He fought harder, but Fanel didn’t sound the least bit taxed. “That’s right! We heard from His Highness… something about you being the one to light the flag on fire last night? Pretty exciting, Cat - that’s what they’re calling you now, right? Cat? That’s what Rakan heard them calling you. Tima, did you know that he has little revolutionary friends, too?”

“No way!” Tima giggled. “He never let us call him Cat.” Walking in a slow circle around him, she clicked her tongue. “You know, I think his hair got longer since we last saw him. I don’t get why guys grow their hair out, it’s so dirty-looking.”

“No, no, don’t you remember?” Fanel grabbed Catalin’s hair, wrapped it around his hand and pulled it back, so that Catalin’s head was hovering off the ground. He managed not to yelp out loud. “It’s a status symbol. Shows that he’s a noble. His Highness let him keep it so that when he got pardoned, he could go right back to his House.”

“Ohhh,” she said. “That’s sweet of him!”

“Wasn’t it?” Fanel paused. “Hey, did you know? It was especially good luck in Myrrh for aristocrats to have black hair. Same color as the flag and all.” Tima made a small noise of interest. Catalin could hear the sound of a weapon being drawn. “For a revolutionary, though… that sort of thing isn’t needed.”

Catalin heard the thin slice before his head hit the ground again.

“So,” Tima asked, “does this mean we caught him?”

***

“You’ll send for me if you need anything, right?”

Catalin heard Rakan ask the question, and nodded before remembering Rakan couldn’t see him through all the layers of blankets. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“Catalin…” Rakan sighed. “Come out of there for a minute.”

Slowly, Catalin sat up, peeking through a gap in the blankets. “My back hurts,” he said. It had been a long time since he’d been whipped.

“You’re just lucky His Highness gave you the day off…” Rakan sat on Catalin’s bed. “Catalin, you could have really hurt His Highness yesterday.”

“Mmm…” Catalin withdrew further into the blankets. “Rakan… did you know that Celeste was dead?”

“… I did.” He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Thought so.” Catalin pulled his knees up to his chest.

“… here. Lie down again,” Rakan said. When Catalin complied, he straightened the blankets around him, murmuring, “I told you that I’m going to be important one day, right?” Catalin nodded. “Right. So you know what the first thing I’m going to do when Prince Frey becomes the Emperor? I’m going to ask him to let you go. But until then, you have to be patient. All right?”

“It might be a long time,” Catalin said, curling up. “Until then, I mean.”

“Well…” Rakan gave a halfhearted laugh. “You might have to be really patient.”

***

Catalin ignored the voices above his head.

He’d had enough of people talking to him. His head hurt. A lot of things hurt. And it had gotten colder, and he had pins and needles in his feet, and he really wanted a glass of water.

“Will that be okay for now?” Rakan’s voice. Or not. He could have been imagining it.

“It’ll be okay, but…” A younger, more timid voice. “H-He’ll need someone better. Than me, that is.”

“As long as it’s okay for now. Thank you, Simon. Will you go back for now? I’ll catch up later.” It sounded like Rakan, anyway.  

“Y-Yes, sir…” The sound of a door opening and closing.

A pause. “Catalin?”

Definitely Rakan. Sounding worried. Catalin opened his eyes.

Rakan smiled down at him. “I suppose ‘I told you so’ would be inappropriate.”

Catalin swallowed hard. “Rakan…” He could hardly hear himself.

“It’s okay…” Rakan’s hands were resting on his shoulders. He suddenly realized that his head was pillowed on Rakan’s legs. He would have made some comment on Rakan’s sappiness if he could think of one. “I sent Fanel back. He won’t hurt you.”

Had Fanel hurt him? That part was less clear. Catalin swallowed again, meaning to ask that. What he said instead was, “Help…”

“I’m going to help you, okay?” Rakan’s grip on him tightened. “But I can’t until you answer my question. Can you do that?”

Catalin clenched his teeth, but nodded.

“Good.” Rakan smiled again. “Catalin, you need to tell me where you’re staying.”

That was what it was about. Catalin shook his head. “No, Rakan-”

“Catalin, just hear me out,” Rakan soothed. “You need to tell me so I can take you back there.”

It was the same thing Baltus had asked of him. But when Rakan said it, he believed it.

Catalin nodded.