“No!” Catalin repeated, much more panicked this time.
“That’s what I thought!” The stranger let out one more high-pitched laugh, and then the knife at Catalin’s throat disappeared as he was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved out the window towards the ocean below.
***
Catalin found it was difficult to try to resist while trying to expel half the ocean from his lungs.
The windows of the banquet hall weren’t too high off the ground, but Catalin was still seeing stars from hitting the water, and between the collar and the manacles, he sank like a brick. He would have thanked the stranger for saving him, but the whole kidnapping business put a slight damper on that.
His kidnapper had been dragging him for a while, but a few minutes ago, they had stopped, and Catalin had been placed on the ground. Slowly, as he felt less like he was about to die, he sat up and took in his surroundings.
They were in some sort of empty fishing shack – or, at least, what Catalin believed a fishing shack would look like. There was no furniture to speak of, save for a couple of chairs, but Catalin could see a rack by the door with dozens of lures hanging off it. Next to the door, a small person wearing all black was checking the window, and at the same time untying what looked like a festival mask. As it was pulled off, the kidnapped turned to face Catalin.
Catalin looked back at a young boy, one surely younger than him. His short brown hair matched the color of his wide eyes perfectly, and the guileless way he carried himself didn’t match a person who would even carry a knife, let alone hold one to another man’s throat.
The moment he locked eyes with Catalin, he began to jump up and down.
“We did it! We did it!” he crowed. “That worked even better than I expected! I can’t believe I actually pulled it off! Wasn’t that awesome? Oh, I’m sorry… you’re not hurt, are you?”
As Catalin stared blankly, the boy tilted his head. “You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you? I know, I know, the window thing, it wasn’t very safe… but we needed something attention-grabbing! Something that would, y’know, punch people right in the face! And it was right there, so why not utilize it, right?”
Catalin processed all of that for a moment, and answered with an eloquent, “Huh?”
The boy blinked. “You knew, right? That we were coming for you?” When Catalin shook his head, the boy was momentarily thrown off, but almost immediately bounced back. “Well, no matter! I’ll get you caught up! Sorry about those cuffs, by the way, but I don’t know how to get them off. Victor should know, though! He’ll be here soon.”
“Victor,” Catalin repeated flatly. “And who might that be?”
“My friend!”
“… a friend who lives in your head?” Catalin asked.
“My head?” the boy laughed. “Why would he live there?”
“Listen.” Catalin straightened himself the best he could. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I demand that you take me back to the palace immediately.”
“Uwaahhh! You even talk like a noble!” The boy began to bounce again. “I’ve never actually gotten to see a noble up close before. You’re so… I dunno, elegant-looking! Just like Lady Celeste!”
And then it clicked. “I get it. Orchestrating an attack on the palace, babbling about Celeste, wearing one of the forbidden colors—” he gestured at the boy’s black outfit, “you’re some kind of Myrrh insurgent, aren’t you?”
“Insurgent?” the boy repeated. “Of course not!” Reaching down his shirt, he yanked out a dirty golden pendant on a black chain, grinning. “I’m First Division Commandant Damian Meyers.”
“First Division…” Catalin sighed. “So you’re an Imperial Guardian.”
“That’s right!” Damian sang.
“… good for you,” Catalin replied.
“Isn’t it? It’s such an honor!” Damian all but sparkled.
Catalin felt his stomach sink. So he wasn’t dealing with an actual insurgent: he was dealing with a crazy person. He wasn’t sure which was worse.
“So,” he began, humoring Damian, “what does such an important person want with me?”
“Oh, don’t put yourself down,” Damian chastised. “I’m sure you know you’re important, too.”
“Sorry,” Catalin said dismissively. “Just a slave, here.”
“Now, you know that’s not true…” Reaching into his pocket, Damian pulled out Celeste’s pendant, dangling it in front of Catalin. “Would a slave have this?”
Catalin stiffened. “… where did you find that?”
“In your quarters, under your mattress. A bit disrespectful, really! You’re supposed to wear it at all times, you know.”
“You want it?” Catalin asked. “Go ahead. Keep it. Sell it if you want to. I don’t care.”
“Don’t be so silly!” As Celeste’s pendant swung back and forth, Catalin could see that it was identical to the one Damian wore. “This belongs to the person it was given to. But you know that already, don’t you, Second Division Commandant Kasshen?”
***
NOTES:
- That apology scene was probably one of the first scenes I imagined for this story from very early on, and it stuck. It's pretty important to Cat's character, after all.
- Speaking of Cat's character, he is one of my easiest to write with, prissy little pessimist that he is. Damian, for all his happiness and smiles, is a great deal harder, because there's the business of the difference between his actions and his thoughts to consider.
- Important character introductions: Rakan and Damian. Anything I say about Rakan right now is going to be a big old spoiler, but you will be seeing him again a bit later. Damian, you couldn't actually get rid of if you tried.
- I am really mean to my characters. I am at peace with this, by the way.
Hope you enjoyed!
