Captain Janlav shakes his head curtly. He still keeps his hair in a topknot, but he no longer shaves the sides of his head. One day he will sport an auburn mane much like a lion’s. Just as I’m changing, so is he. But whether he’s becoming a dangerous man or just a different man, that I can’t yet say. “So that when I’d look aside, you could wander off on your own. No, I don’t think so.”
I roll my eyes at him, a gesture better suited to Merile or dear Sibs. He makes it sound as if he’s concerned that I’d fall off a cliff or be captured by someone else. Then let’s play by his rules. “We are in the middle of nowhere. There’s no one around for miles. My father’s gaze is bright. No one can harm me tonight.”
His brows rise.
“I peeked through the window.”
He chuckles. “Now did you?”
“I did.”
He studies me for a while, the uncombed hair that falls tangled on my shoulders, the blanket I clutch against my chest. I know he finds me beautiful, though he no longer says it aloud. He gazes at me for so long that I’m sure he has noticed the looped necklace or bracelets that the thick fabric of my dress barely conceal, that he will push the door closed and lock it behind him. But at last, he says, “Come, then, but be forewarned, it’s freezing outside.”
Before he can change his mind, I hasten out of the cabin. When we were allotted our cabins, it was done in the order of age. Celestia’s cabin is closest to the day carriage, at the end of the corridor, to my left. As I walk toward the other end of the carriage, I pass Sib’s, Merile’s, and Alina’s cabins. I hear nothing that would indicate that any of them are awake. That guarantees nothing. Celestia suspects that Alina doesn’t sleep at nights. My little sister has lately talked more and more of the shadows, though as the youngest it’s not possible for her to glimpse into the world beyond this one. I suspect the decay that affects her mind has spread during this journey. I know for sure that we have run out of her medicine.
It’s horrifying to come to the conclusion that there’s nothing you can do for your sister. And since this is the case, and since this is one of the rare chances to breathe uncaptured air, I stride past little Alina’s cabin.
When we come to the heavy door that leads out of the train, Captain Janlav pulls a key ring from his belt. The dozen keys of brass and iron jingle with promises of freedom. He turns his back to me so that I can’t see which one he uses to open the door. It pains me that he doesn’t trust me. But if I were in his boots, would I trust me either?
Come to think of it, I did trust him with everything. That didn’t end too well for me or my sisters. Or our mother… Even if we have only Alina’s word of her demise, Celestia believes it true. Our mother is dead. Eventually, my sister will become the next empress.
Unless something were to happen to her. And something might well happen now that the battle lines have been drawn and the soldiers’ hands are bloody on both sides. A betrayal or murder most vile, poison slipped in tea or a knife thrust between the lowest ribs.
The door squeals as Captain Janlav pushes it open, an interruption most welcome. Immediately the winter exhales a snowy breath upon us. He glances at me, grinning. “Do you still want to go out?”
I wrap the gray blanket better around my shoulders and brush past him onto the covered platform, fleeing the ghastly thoughts. He closes the door behind us, but doesn’t lock it. Why would he? Where else would I return than back inside?
The night is very black. The rails stretch before us, the two lines of iron reaching toward each other, but never quite meeting. I used to think of the railroads as the veins of my mother’s empire. Now, looking at the grimness of iron against snow, I think of them as wounds that won’t ever heal.
A chiming click of metal breaches the silence. I turn to see Captain Janlav flicking open a silver cigarette case. It’s the one I gave him as a gift, before he told me of the cause, of the life beyond the palace walls. How curious for him to have kept it when all of us lead equally austere lives here on this train. Why didn’t he donate it to fund the cause?
“What?” He glances at me from under his brows before his attention drifts back to the cigarettes and the case itself, the delicate crescent clasp and the etched, straight lines representing rays of the Moon, master workmanship at its finest.
“It’s a beautiful case you have. How did you come by it?” Does he really remember nothing?
He shrugs as he lifts a cigarette to his lips. His moustache is unoiled. Whiskers curl against the rolled paper. “I really can’t say. Curious, though, isn’t it?”
I wrap the blanket tighter around myself. The chains of sequins weigh heavy against the vulnerable skin of my neck. He really, really doesn’t remember the moments we once cherished. That is a relief to me. There was a time I thought he had knowingly deceived me, that he had only acted to get into my favor, that the love we had shared hadn’t been true. It was only after Celestia told me of what Gagargi Prataslav had done to her that I understood he must have altered Captain Janlav, too.
As Captain Janlav blows smoky clouds into the night, I feel not only cold but also dizzy. I seek support from the rail, lean on my left hand. The metal bites my flesh with teeth of ice. My whole body jolts, yet I curl my fingers around the rail. I’m past caring about pain. Every single one of us was led astray, in one way or the other.
Celestia feared for the empire’s future and consulted Gagargi Prataslav for advice. He stole a part of her soul and used her as a puppet to advance his wayward plans. He… it’s too terrible to think of, but I owe my sister not to ignore it, not to pretend that what befell her could really be forgotten and hence hadn’t happened at all. The gagargi manipulated his way into her bed. He sowed his seed, and made her think she wanted it.
“Watch out or your fingers will freeze and you’ll never get them off that bar.” The voice belongs to the one who doesn’t remember who I became, only who I was before we first met. He touches my left hand, and even if I wanted to, I can’t move an inch. “Ah, too late.”
I stand so very still as he attempts to pry my fingers loose. To no avail. The metal pinches my skin possessively. I’m stuck to the rail. How embarrassing.
“May I?” he asks, bending his head close to my hand. What is he after? What have I got to lose?
“You may.”
He blows gently at my hand, moist clouds of salvation. On the third breath, I manage to free my hand. My fingertips, the inside of my palm, are raw red. My handprint remains on the rail, a dull, dark shape against the faint sheen of ice.
He moves as if to examine my hand, a crease of alarm on his forehead. I quickly hide my hand under the blanket, against my palpitating heart. “I’m not hurt.”
But Celestia was, still is. My sister confided in me when she didn’t bleed when she should have. I assured her that it was due to stress only. That happens often enough, I have heard. She didn’t say it out loud, and it would have been too early to know still, but she feared that the gagargi’s seed had taken root inside her.
The deal my sister made with the witch benefitted them both. But when trading with witches, the cost always runs deeper than one can anticipate. Even a week after swallowing the potion, Celestia continues to bleed. No longer as heavily, but… She must fear that the witch’s potion has left a permanent mark on her body, that… No, I won’t think of it. Our mother is dead. Celestia will be the empress, even if there hasn’t been and won’t be a ceremony in the near future, even if she hasn’t yet married the Moon. Her daughters, let there be many of them, will rule after her. Not mine.