Chapter 2

Servants of the Emperor brought a cask of wine, fruit on a tray of ice, and little squares of cake and placed the fare at one end of the list. By the Emperor’s whim, a place of martial contest and peril became the backdrop for a gala. The gathering was meant to honor us, and we were expected to attend as soon as we’d removed our armor. Being a knight meant more than ramming a sword against flesh and armor, and I knew I had to demonstrate that I possessed the requisite social graces. But I hung back for a time, watching the proceedings from a spot under the viewing stand.

The crowd had grown fairly large. A number of the knights currently in the battalion were there to offer us encouragement—many of them had served as our instructors at some period or other. They were in civilian dress, which varied in color, cut, and ornamentation, but they all moved with a physical confidence different from the others around them, and they all wore a badge with the battalion’s sigil on their chests. Family members of trainees appeared. They lifted glasses, calling out toasts. 

I also saw a number of our peers, young men and women drawn from the finest families. The men wore doublets and breeches—some embroidered with gold or silver, some with buttons that were rubies or night-eyed sapphires. The women’s gowns were acmes of the dressmaker’s art, fitting their bodies into improbable shapes. I scrutinized the young women as they came to the edge of the gathering. I was looking for one lady in particular, the only one who made me feel like I belonged in this scene.

I wore one of her lace handkerchiefs under my shirt, tied to a cord and flat against my skin. I had worn it under my armor earlier; in fact, I took it off only to bathe. It was usual then for a knight to take a paramour. He would fight in her name, with a token from her proudly displayed (we had bolts for that purpose on our breastplates), and dedicate all honor he won to her. We thought that having such an object gave us greater strength than we would have alone, and if you followed certain rules, it was entirely proper.

My token was kept hidden, in part, because Serah, the giver of the token, and I were still too young for the usual public avowals, but also because she being of pure Narran blood was expected to give her favors to one of equal purity. Still for years, since first meeting at a stiff ball that forced together young people from around the city, she and I had played at making promises to each other and daring declarations from the other. We learned to meet in the public streets, exchanging secret meaning in our words. We stole moments at the Emperor’s balls, or even when her family hosted a banquet. Our secret love had grown like rapacious ivy that thrived on darkness rather than light.

The scene in front of me was resplendent. As evening gentled the atmosphere, we were surrounded by the four towers, carefully placed arbors, and glimpses of the high arched windows and pristine lines of the Palace itself. We were at the very heart of the Narran Empire. These were the people who habitually occupied this privileged spot. It was everything I wanted, though without Serah, it felt somehow wrong.

I caught a glimpse of her mixed in with the crowd. She had a way of holding her back very straight, as if trying to lift off the ground, and as soon as I glimpsed that, I was as sure of her as a wolf scenting its prey.

I started forward. As I walked toward the gathering, Jerar spotted me and came out to greet me.

“Here you are!” He took my hand and shook it, as if we’d been apart a long time. “Come along. I can’t go home until I toast you in front of everybody. And, to tell you the truth, I am looking forward to my bed.”

Jerar was pale—I could see that even in the ruddy light—and he wasn’t standing at his full height. His fall had shaken him.

“You should think about your bed’s feelings,” I replied. “To have to support your weight night after night.”

“It’s true, I’m an insensitive cad. Poor bed.” He laughed as if I’d said something brilliant. He was always generous to me.

I let him lead me toward the others.

Jerar grabbed two glasses of sweet wine and made his toast to an audience of those who happened to be standing close enough to hear. Most listened, a few huzzahed. It made no impact on the course of the party, as I had no contingent of kin and allies there. My only relative, my father, had always disapproved of my interest in martial service and waited for me at home. 

Jerar saw how his attempt to bring me the recognition he thought I deserved fell into an unresponsive void, and he looked at me with some sympathy and frustration. He put an arm around me, claiming me and endorsing me. But he also leaned on me for support.

“I’m really getting tired,” he said. “I would stay with you…”

“No. Go,” I said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow you have to show everyone what you can do.”

He couldn’t even smile at this prospect, though I’d known him to prate for hours about the tournament, the selection process, and how he planned to make a name for himself. I started walking him out of the gathering, but he pushed himself free and said he was okay. 

He walked as if he’d aged thirty years but made his way on his own.

I had lost track of Serah and wandered into the crowd as if into a labyrinth to find her. I knew Serah so well and so intimately—indeed, the thought of her body was often in my mind, as if she partly dwelled inside me—that pushing past so many others felt strange and improbable. How could she not be near? 

Finally, I spotted her, caught in conversation with another man, one of my fellow trainees. She turned her eyes to me and I understood that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She wore a scarlet dress that fit tightly around her torso, so that you could see the animal flexibility at her center, but then flared at her shoulders and her legs. 

“Gelar,” her voice brushed aside mundane noise to reach me. “Herne has just told me that you won the honor today. How marvelous!”

“Thank you,” I said, though embarrassed and constrained by the fact that Herne was still privy to any conversation.

Herne squinted at me, and then spoke in a slow, slow voice. “I was saying that I don’t think anyone outside the four families has ever advanced to such heights. It’s unprecedented. Quite remarkable.” I think he meant it kindly, but he also squinted at me again, as if he were looking at me from very far off. Of course, he came from one of the noble families. (They were often called the four families in reference to the four noble virtues of might, dignity, loyalty, and purity.) 

“What is the honor?” Serah asked. “What do you get?” She swiftly bridged the space between us, and stood as near to me as propriety would allow, her face tilted up. Herne was cut loose and drifted away. I might have been trained for the battlefield, but she knew how to maneuver on this field.

“It’s nothing you could hold in your hand, for if it were, I would certainly put it there.” I didn’t know—I still don’t know—where these sorts of statements came from. I seemed to have an instinct for flattering women. I reached out to take her hand, but she drew it away. “I have the honor of leading one side of the attack tomorrow,” I said.

“The attack…” she smiled and held one finger up to her lips, as if tasting the word. “I’m sure that suits you.” The look she gave me to accompany this comment was as sharp as any sword.

“If I were as swift in battle, as you are in discourse—”

“Right, right,” she cut me off. “I’m flattered.” She mockingly covered her nose with her hand, as other girls would to hide embarrassment. “I expect you’ll want to praise me again, and then you’ll take my hand,” she took mine to demonstrate, “and you’ll talk of the beauty of love. Then you’ll turn to me and ask earnestly what I think on the topic, for women truly are creatures of love and must understand it better—again trying to flatter me. Then you’ll lead me step by step—by fetching me a drink, by gesturing at the light of the stars—toward the edge of the crowd.” I noticed that she had done the same to me—or had I done it to her? There were few people left around us and we strolled toward the darkness further into the fields. “Then you’ll propose a walk. Isn’t that innocent, almost gallant?”

“I’m impressed with my own gallantry,” I said.

She pretended to stumble, so she could lean against me for a moment. In setting her back to upright, I let my hand stroke her side. I became giddy with these secret affections. We walked toward the very center of the courtyard, where there seemed to be fewer people. 

“I want you to take me away,” she whispered when we were safely out of earshot of any other courtiers. “Everyone else seems so boring when I see you. I want to be rid of them.”

Serah was the only person I knew who could make a comment such as that. She had a spark of energy, even wildness, that was rare in Narra. She saw things her own way and didn’t bow to piety without thought.

“How far should we go?” I asked. With Serah, I never knew how much of what we said was in earnest and how much in jest. But it was always serious. We were always somehow testing each other. “To that hill, there? To Morning’s Diagonal, outside the Palace? Or should we go beyond the city itself? Should we go to the outer kingdoms or even the outlands? Tell me, and I will take you.”

“That’s it,” she replied. “So far away they’ve never heard of Narra. We’ll be the strangers there. Everyone will gawk at us, but we’ll have each other.”

“We could start by walking out that gate.” I pointed to where one of the Palace’s gateways had become visible to us.

She stopped to look. We stood side by side, elbows and hips touching, provoking excitement in each of us. “I might love that. But there are so many people here tonight. And some of your comrades in arms have been watching you everywhere you go. It would be a scandal.” In the end, she was a part of Narra. It was her home; she knew no other life. And so, as much as she might play at breaking away from its conventions, she stayed just inside their limits, with a knowledge of what those limits were that came from inborn familiarity.

I didn’t want to go either. She was a part of the life I envisioned for myself at the heart of the Narran aristocracy. And I had a promise from her. 

It had been done in secret, but we had pledged our hearts, our lives, and our bodies to each other through the most passionate and intimate embrace. Standing so close to her, I could feel again the thrill of that touch and the ecstasy of our shared abandon and devotion to each other. I looked into her eyes and the worlds of light and thought there. I saw my feelings returned. I would have pulled her to me and kissed her, but we were caught in a net of observation for now and had to wait until the next gap of solitude.

Serah tugged my hand and stepped away at last, and we trudged together back toward the party. We didn’t speak anymore, because we each understood the other’s sadness. Those short moments when we were alone together were the prizes in our days. 

As we came near the denser crowd, she said what we both understood. “We can’t take any longer. I’ll see you again after the tournament,” she said. “You’ll be wearing the garland from the Emperor’s own hands,” she touched my brow where it would sit. “You’ll be the finest combatant in the Glorious Battalion. And then, soon, captain…”

Without Serah, I felt alone amidst all the people, and I wandered to the edge of the gathering. 

My father was not there, and he was the one other person I wanted to talk to. He was not a part of the life of the Palace. He was a merchant (as Natan had pointed out) who sold the precious mutab oil. Everyone here probably purchased his wares, but he kept himself apart from them socially. Indeed, someone less sympathetic than me might have labeled him a hermit, since he so rarely left our home in the Night’s Quarter of the city. I knew he waited for me. I knew he would share my elation and my anger. He had tried to prevent me from taking the course I had, but he had always cared deeply for my success and for my happiness. I would better understand my own feelings and my own predicament once I spoke to him. Despite his disavowals of interest in military affairs, he had often given me valuable counsel on preparing myself for the tests and competitions I’d faced previously.

I set off for home at a run.