I cherish this ray of normalcy, refuse to think of what my sisters and I might lose next. Boy has his eyes set on dear Sibs, who seems completely blind to this fact. My sister fancies someone else, but who that is, I don’t yet know. She’s too embarrassed to admit to admiring one of the guards to share his name even with me.
These silly avoidance games I play in my mind, they are of no use. It took me days to acknowledge that I’m not anxious only because Captain Janlav left, not knowing the reasons behind his decisions. I… I miss him. The unsteady jolting of my heart drives air from my lungs, knits my ribs together, and lets me breathe only in gasps. I can’t stand the pain, the uncertainty any longer. I have to ask if the guards know more, though this single question might reveal to my younger sisters how little control we have over anything here. “When do you think that Captain Janlav will return?”
Though the guards have been with us for over three months now, they aren’t as accustomed to us talking to them as we are to their perpetual presence. This isn’t because of any sense of novelty or honor of being addressed by a Daughter of the Moon. According to the scriptures, under my father’s gaze, we were meant to be equal in the first place. But perhaps during the train journey the guards grew used to us being silent and demure and would prefer things to stay that way, to forget that we exist, that we must stay here supposedly for our own safety, that any day, any moment someone might come to threaten us and these men might need to pay for the privilege of protecting us with their lives.
They might remain with us in this house, live in this flux, for mere days or then for decades.
“At some point.” Beard grunts, lowering the bowl on the table in such a firm manner that it spins around on its own for two full laps. It’s a miracle that any of the dishes have lasted for this long.
“But…” I do falter then, for I can sense Celestia studying me. She must be as worried about Captain Janlav’s absence as I am; she must ponder if her secrets are no longer hers and mine. Though each of the guards has skied to the garrison on their turn, none of their visits has taken this long. I wonder then, and not for the first time, if he somehow found out about the deal Celestia brokered with the witch. If he did, did he see it as his duty to report directly to the gagargi? It’s an understatement to speculate that the gagargi wouldn’t react well to the news—his wrath would be beyond vile. But there is still a chance, a shivering, shrinking one, that Captain Janlav left simply because my sisters and I performed the sacred rites without asking his permission or acceptance for that matter. “He has been gone for five days.”
The guards stare back at me blankly, and it occurs to me, they don’t know why he has been delayed either and they must be anxious for their captain’s whereabouts, too. For without him, who would lead? Beard himself? Or Belly or Tabard? Not Boy, for he can’t be older than sixteen. And Boots likes following others, not going through anything unknown first, having spent too many months, years in the tunnels chipped under the mountains. Without Captain Janlav, one of them would have to talk with us when the need arises, escort us to our outings in the garden, ensure that the rumble of our dance practice is indeed merely our sabots and heels clacking against the floorboards, nothing more sinister.
Belly lowers his fist on the table. “Eat your soup before it gets cold.”
First, we hear the front door slam against the house’s wall, as if someone had just yanked it open with much more force than required. Then there’s the swaying steps up the stairs, muttered curses and expletives. These sounds should frighten me, but they do not. I can hear but one pair of boots, and that can only mean that…
“Who. Who can it be?” Merile demands, ever so impatient. Her dogs reply to her from upstairs with high-pitched whines.
“Hush,” Sibilia replies, but to her or the dogs, I can’t tell.
The guards get up sluggishly, gingerly picking up the rifles hanging at the backs of their chairs. Celestia, she nods in approval. If Captain Janlav were to have uncovered her secrets and reported them to the gagargi, he wouldn’t be returning alone but with Captain Ansalov and his soldiers.
Yet my sisters and I remain seated as we are, for then both the table and the guards will stand between us and the doorway. Though, as the stumbling steps approach, I recognize their tone, the weight behind them, the cadence. This is no intruder. The cruel fingers clutching my heart ease their hold at last.
And this is the distraction Celestia must have been waiting for all along. For now that the guards and Millie have their backs turned toward us, she reaches out for the rye bread basket, picks up the loaves, and then they are gone, no doubt hidden in the pockets we recently have sewn into our day dresses. She notices me noticing.
Now she knows I know that she has a new plan. Should I ask her about that later or rely on her sharing with me what I need to know? The steps reach us before I can make up my mind.
“I’m back!” Captain Janlav bursts into the room, his cheeks and the tip of his nose glowing red, tiny icicles still clinging to his beard and moustache. He wears a wolf skin cap with the flaps tied under his square chin. His coat isn’t the one he wore when I watched him leave through my room’s narrow window, not the blue one with the wooden buttons and scars left where he tore away the epaulets. He has donned a trapper’s fur coat, warm but soiled with death. “And look what I brought with me!”
Eleven pairs of eyes turn to stare at his raised hand, but I stare at his face, his expression. It’s one of pure pride, not one filled with scorn. He doesn’t know. Relief washes over me like summer waves against a lakeshore, but it is soon gone, replaced by ire. Oh, I can smell the stink of liquor from where I sit; the melting snow on his trouser legs and the rags tied around his boots is already pooling at his feet. How dare he show up like this when I have been fearing for the worst, wasting away in worry!
“A pheasant!” Captain Janlav cherishes the bird’s carcass. He has tied the knurly gray feet together and the copper-speckled wings against the sides. As he shakes the bird, its beady yellow eyes bulge accusingly, though the white-collared neck has already been split, the blood drained. “Freshly shot. This calls for a feast!”
He’s boyishly proud, and so very, very drunk, and this escapes no one. The guards clap hands and each other’s backs. Tabard and Boots exchange bets on him vomiting or otherwise further embarrassing himself. Alina and Merile lean against each other, stifling giggles. Sibilia stares at him as if all her dreams had just been shattered. Celestia…
“Thank you, Captain Janlav,” my oldest sister says, in a perfectly calm and collected voice as if she had never worried about him learning her secrets in the first place, “but we have recently finished enjoying our dinner. May I suggest that we spare this magnificent catch of yours for tomorrow so that Millie can prepare it with the dedication it deserves?”
Captain Janlav glances at the pheasant, then at Millie. Old Millie stays completely still on her chair, and yet I can tell she’s hoping to sink so far back that she would disappear from our sight until everything is decided. If Captain Janlav has his will, she will be up all night. But she would never say a word in disagreement. Even in this new world, some things never change. She’s still but a servant in the guards’ eyes.
“I believe there is still some soup left. Celestia and I would be delighted to keep you company,” I say in my girliest, silkiest voice. He’s in a good mood now. Let him stay that way. “But please allow the younger sisters to retire upstairs, for the time for them to go to bed fast approaches.”