Chapter Text
It was of great surprise to Kabru that though the ocean had not dried up in the drought, it seemed to squeeze every ounce of nectar from the conversations in the garden. Instead of gathering in the drawing room, Milsiril had prepared entertainment outside in the mid-sun. Musicians plucked their tender strings on the balcony, faint in the guests' ears from such a distance. Closer yet was the sound of sycamore balls cracking against each other across the lawn accompanied by soft whispers and the occasional single clap of celebration.
His blue roan cocker spaniel had provided him company over the years of handling his mother’s erratic behaviors when he was home from Ingolstadt, mainly of the desire to see grandchildren; however, in her old age, she refused to follow a stray toy into the woods where Kabru could excuse himself for his mischievous pet, duck into the forestry as if to return her– only to scoop up the pooch under his arm and drag her further in until the sun set and the carriages were rolling off the property. Nowadays she contented to idle her time sunbathing at his feet and rarely gave chase to any ball thrown, nor bird struck down from a gun. Even her tiny, preferred stuffed cat was not of interest to her, and it remained tucked in Kabru’s side pocket all day. Though he could busy himself by scratching the scruff under her chin, it hardly prevented the guests from approaching him.
Normally, he’d enjoy endless prattles with his relatives, close family friends, or the other lords and ladies that’d come in droves, but there was more reason for these most recent gatherings beyond flaunting wealth, trading between the households and making appearances. Try as he might to implore Milsiril that his ever growing educational achievements and accolades served a great purpose in the future, that his connections in the arts and sciences would serve him better, that he was far younger than other eligible bachelors on the market, she’d hear not a lick of it.
“I trust you are finding the evening enjoyable? You’ve been away with your studies too long, it seems you’ve forgotten how to act with guests. Never the matter. How admirable to be so focused on your future.” Their words were puzzles. They always have been, but now that Kabru knew the ciphers, each pleasantry dug into his chest. Fortunate is the pig, who knows not that his contented ignorance and merry rooting leaves him blissfully unawares of his purpose on a butcher’s block.
“You are too kind, madam.” She had not taken a hint of his own, or she hadn’t much cared.
“I hope you've enjoyed the sciences. Indispensable knowledge, I’m sure you know, and as your mother has told, you’ve taken interest in literature. Do please talk of your thoughts with my husband; he appreciates the young mind and how it meanders. A true gentleman is conversant in many things, and what a quality my daughter would so admire.” There it is. Kabru gave her a smile as he stood. His trusty dog stared up at him with droopy eyes before rising, licking her lips as Kabru walked around his chair. The woman’s eyes snapped downward, surveying the dog before her lips pulled in a faint, controlled smile, the type a mother gives a child when acting out in a way not deemed appropriate. The type his own mother gives him when she nudges his arm and spews, “Dear, you must admire her needlework. I’m sure you will find it worthy of praise.”
As if Kabru could find much to comment on when presented with a spoil of flowers across stretched white fabric. He’d rather guide the lady gently by the arm and escort her outside where there are plenty of blooms needing not to be caught eternal by the strokes of a needle replicated over a thousand times.
He supposed his bitterness lingered more so in Milsiril’s attempts to have him gain interest in a wife than it ever had with his suitor’s skills in the craft or homesteading. He had met many women abroad, and had enjoyed conversation and late rendezvous outside the gazes of chaperones meant to protect whatever virtue they believed he had: where organic relationships could be built without the accompanied mentions of dowries and status. As much as he found navigating the social realm exhilarating amidst the educated, it was hardly where he wished to find a wife, or for his mother to find his wife.
“An unsteady gait, wouldn’t you say?” she remarked, adjusting her fan with a delicate flick of her wrist. The sun was blistering even as it began to descend. Perhaps with a comment from her, they’d all be moved inside before long, and Kabru’s nose would be rid of the breeze and replaced with sweat and blotchy perfumes. “Hardly a noble companion anymore. Not much life left in him, I’d wager.”
“She’s hardly seven,” Kabru replied politely.
She gave a sniff followed by a wrinkle of her nose. “And such a filthy creature. Does he ruin the gardens, by chance?”
“Tis only her coat, ma’am.”
“It surely is a sign of age.” She seemed knowledgeable on such a matter, so Kabru mentioned not that dogs tended to develop grey whiskers like any other creature, but they did not, in fact, change entire coloration as the years passed. He had been given her as a puppy for his birthday. She had been meant to serve as a companion in the countryside given Milsiril could be reclusive and withhold him from invitations prior to her developing the affliction of baby fever solely focused on offspring he’d preset with a woman of equal stature.
The dog had not been permitted to come to school with him, but that decision did not determine his love toward her. He had been informed by Helki in letters of her accompanying in yardwork and sleeping beside a fire each night. “One would hardly think it fitting to secure a wife with such a common thing by your side. I do hope he does not reside within-”
“She rests at the foot of my bed, ma’am.” And she’d be getting many scratches behind the ear tonight along with any leftover meats from the charcuterie displays along the tables on the other side of the garden.
“Oh, the young. Well, I leave you with this: a lady prefers her home to be well-ordered. She shall bring much more pleasant company, I’m sure, and can offer more than simple loyalty. That-”
As though summoned by Kabru’s reluctant engagement and ill-suited talk to his soon-to-be in-law, Milsiril’s hand appeared on his back in the form of a white-knuckled pinch. “My word, I understand your family has acquired a charming country estate far from the din and commotion of the city. Pray tell, are those talks true?”
Kabru could already hear the talk he’d receive through his door as he packed for college: desperate words and scoldings about how lovely it’d be to raise a family deep in the country, teaching riding to his children and be able to research as he pleased: nevermind that his joy in study came from interacting and engaging with others on and above his level of understanding. Off in the hills, he’d spend his days with servants without the ability to read such texts alongside a wife too busy with embroidery to explore theoreticals.
“Yes, quite idyllic. I wish it was ours when I was freshly married, but we provide as we can for Rin.” Milsiril’s chin raised ever so slightly, and the woman nodded as though distracted by the flutter of a butterfly that also had caught the dog’s eye. "I must say, such creatures are charming companions in their youth, but the journey to the countryside can be quite taxing. And settling into a new place, well—it might prove overwhelming for her, don’t you think?"
“Oh, the poor thing.” Kabru’s eyebrows furrowed as Milsiril gazed down at the dog. She had begun wagging her tail at the attention, but neither lady reached to pet her. "Indeed, it might be best for her to remain here."
Kabru straightened, his jaw tightening as he raised a hand to smooth his constricting cravat, his tone measured but firm. "I am grateful for your concern, yet I assure you she is well accustomed to my care and can not go without; Furthermore, it occurs to me that discussions of such a nature may be somewhat premature, given that no proposal has yet been made.”
The woman sniffed, her fan fluttering lazily as she eyed Kabru with an expression that teetered with the warning of the multitude of faux pas he managed to escape trampling upon in under a minute– and what he did manage to stumble over. "One would hope a young man grows from such immaturity within the finite sentimentals. After all, it is such an unsightly trait in a prospective husband."
Kabru’s jaw tightened, his composure barely intact as his fingers itched to adjust his cravat, a nervous habit he fought to suppress. He only managed to drag his hand down to fiddle with his opposite cuff, rolling the metal link there between his thumb and pointer finger. Before he could form an intelligent, reasonable, acceptable response, Milsiril stepped in with a laugh as smooth as silk, her hand landing lightly on Kabru’s arm.
"You must forgive him," Milsiril said. Her hand dug into his back like a vulture’s talons. It’d be a long night. "Young men often grow attached to their loyal companions, and loyalty, as we know, is a virtue to be cultivated in every aspect of life." Her gaze flicked to Kabru, a subtle but pointed warning that quelled the words forming on his lips. He lulled his head through a lazy nod.
"Speaking of virtues," Milsiril continued, her droopy eyes rising to the sky, "I do believe a bit of fresh air would suit everyone. Our conversation is best made with less guests, yes? It can bring too many nerves upon an impatient groom. Kabru, why not take Rin on a stroll? I ensured your gift to her is stationed by the balcony."
She means the gift she has handpicked and set aside to present to Rin as if Kabru had any knowledge about what he was given.
The woman’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fan snapping shut with an audible click. "A fine suggestion," she said after a pause, though her tone betrayed her irritation. She turned slightly and called, "Rin, dear, do come here."
Rin appeared a moment later, her steps measured and her expression composed. Her mother gestured to a nearby gentleman, Rin’s father, who had been quietly observing the exchange. His foot nearly grazed the idle dog, and Kabru tried to not take offense as he gave Rin a slight bow out of greeting, only to correct himself at Milsiril’s hard stare.
"Rin," Kabru said, straightening after his bow. His jaw remained tight. "Come along then."
Rin smiled politely, though the faintest flicker of apprehension shadowed her expression as she dipped in greeting, her eyes straying to the side. It hadn’t been but a week when they last spoke, chaperoned so propriety was maintained to the young lady, yet the talk was restricted to all questions to her being filtered back and forth as if her mother and father were her mouthpiece. They’d known each other since before her debut: there was little he wished to know further, and little he wished to be wed to.
Rin was striking; the sort of woman who’d be casted to assist in rending marble to stand in dignity for ages, encaptured for eternity. Her pale skin, unblemished, silky, was like said material; it seemed almost carved rather than lived in, a testament to careful preservation rather than vitality by work of her guardians. Her long, dark hair flowed like a polished cascade of sparkling onyx, straight yet heavy. Her eyes might best be caught in stone where the deathly black pools could be coated more bearable to the eye without casting gaze aside. Yes, Rin could be a muse for a sculptor, perhaps, but Aphrodite herself would remain unbothered, her throne of envy untarnished.
Then there was her build. It was slight; it provided her an air of delicacy that men would chase through the desert to have a drop of within their lady, but it bordered on fragility, as if she had been shaped to endure admiration rather than life itself. Kabru couldn’t imagine carrying himself with the gloves that were required in order to hold her right. Past women he’s engaged with could be wild, could be relieved from duty and wrap themselves around him, brace themselves upon his reckless abandon, but Rin looked as though she’d fall ill with the wrong gust of breeze.
Even the crease in her brow—so faint as to be barely there—suggested a habit of restraint, of holding back that was so wound up it’d take decades to unfurl. Even if he managed to massage the tension from her shoulders, there then was herself as a person to be concerned over. Her smile, when it appeared, was graceful, almost perfect in execution, yet it lacked the warmth that could make it truly enchanting. She was beauty in refinement, but she lacked awe. She didn’t possess intrigue, nor could she spark such desire within Kabru. From the beginning, he knew he had only offered attention in polite, but fleeting gazes, already knowing that her loveliness was a passing detail with no reason to linger upon.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the path as Kabru walked alongside Rin, her father trailing close enough to remind him of his presence, of how his daughter’s purity was intact, yet far enough to feign casual disinterest. Perhaps he’d remain a silent observer, more concerned over if they grazed hands. He wondered if he had touched even her pinky finger if that’d be reason enough for the family to proceed abruptly with a marriage the next day.
Rin moved with the grace expected of a lady in her station, her steps light as air though her gaze was cast downward as though the act of walking beside him was more obligation than pleasure. It had been his own fault. Last they met, Rin’s eyes sparkled quite differently until Kabru made mention, for part in having known her so long and having felt it owed to be truthful as two children taken in by their families, that his interest in marriage was slight and he’d rather return to Ingolstadt.
Rin's composure didn’t falter much as it wasn’t now, though her silence now spoke louder than any lingering piece of their conversation. Her father, however, seemed determined to fill the void her reticence created.
“Kabru,” he began, his voice measured as he packed a pipe. He rolled his wrist in a beckoning way Kabru only saw from turning over his shoulder to see the man. “I trust you’ve had time to consider your future more fully since our last meeting. Have you been led by Milsiril in your duties as the head of Tol?”
Kabru’s smile was polite, though inwardly he sighed. He had not. He had avoided it, though it appeared his leash was being reeled in by the day. “I’ve reflected on my responsibilities and how best to fulfill them; however, I do find myself in quite the need to learn more before taking such a leap.”
“Good, good,” Rin’s father said, sucking his tobacco. “It’s a man’s duty to chart his course with clarity and purpose. It’s not wrong to wish for guidance as you lack a father: Dear boy, please clear time. I will take you to meet some of the big names in business to help familiarize yourself with these structures and diplomacies.”
“Of course,” Kabru replied. “I’ve little time before I must return to college, but I hope to-”
He laughed. “My boy, you've got a lot larger plate to fill now. Such pursuits will be manageable again in another year, I assure you. How powerful: the hand of curiosity.”
Kabru’s practiced smile remained firmly in place, though the weight behind it grew heavier with the stone in his gut. His eyes darted to Rin, but he received no aid. He hadn’t expected anything either way. Women had hardly a say in their parent’s choice, but that wasn’t an awful hand. If the groom’s family couldn’t match her dowry in a promise of keeping her high-end life equivalent to the one she is parting with. “I appreciate your offer, sir, truly. However, I’ve already made arrangements to take the train back to Ingolstadt in the coming weeks. My studies are ongoing, I’m afraid.”
Rin’s father chuckled, the sound almost warm and amicable to perhaps a child’s mind, but Kabru didn’t miss the slight condescension underlying it as if he had thought he was speaking to a child. The older man exhaled a cloud of pipe smoke, letting it drift lazily behind him as they continued their walk. “Kabru, you’re a bright man, but you must realize that there comes a time when studies are no longer a priority. You’ve been at university long enough, haven’t you? Surely you’ve absorbed everything a man of your station needs to know.”
“With respect, sir, I believe there is still much to gain from completing my education. It’s an essential foundation for the responsibilities I’ll take on, and I—”
“For what responsibilities, my boy?” Rin’s father interrupted. He scoffed, and his boots on the ground followed suit. “You don’t need books to prepare you for the life that awaits. You’ve proven yourself more than capable.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, sir,” Kabru said carefully. “But I believe the proper course of action is to see my studies through to completion. For our families sake.”
He wanted to spit out the residue of such words. Our families
Rin’s father waved a hand dismissively, a trail of smoke curling into the air from his pipe. “Nonsense. Your future is here-- as her husband.”
Kabru’s steps faltered for the briefest moment, though he quickly recovered. The mention of “her husband” struck like a blow he had been expecting but still unprepared for. Never before had anything sounded more like a sentence. He had been taken once through the streets and caught the aftermath of a hanging. The pulley got caught, so a man had climbed the scaffold as Milsiril’s frantic call rang in his ears. The limp body fell with one slash to its tether, and it fell in a sickening heap, blood and flesh colliding on impact and creating a splatter at Kabru’s feet. He wondered if the man could feel that. He wondered if he could still be alive as he was dragged off by the coil around his dangling neck like a chicken caught between two nails on a log. His throat tightened as he forced out a response. “With respect, sir, I have not yet proposed to Rin. I don’t have confidence in our prosperity without presenting myself completely as the best I can possibly be for your daughter.”
Kabru had to find the money at college to buy onto a boat: sail away before anyone grew wiser and tried to shackle him to an altar. He has friends, colleagues, all of which would help him under the right circumstances, certainly. He’d just need to be careful, make sure no one of higher blood heard of his intentions. Maybe after several years, he’d send Rin a letter of apology in hopes that'd reach her and she’d simply throw it in a fire, already married to a man far wealthier and enchanting than Kabru. Perhaps she would already be surrounded by the three kids she always gushed about when they were young. The thought of it made Kabru sick.
The elder man’s smile didn’t waver, but its edge grew sharper, more knowing as he turned up to blow smoke into the cloudless sky. “It’s a mere formality, Kabru. We’re all well aware of where this is headed, and frankly, it’s high time we moved things along, mm?”
“I see,” he said stiffly, his voice clipped. He cleared his throat, glancing ahead. He switched their path on an early bend back to the manor. “Very well. Shall we continue on to the roses?”
The remainder of the walk passed in uneasy silence, Rin’s father puffing contentedly on his pipe as though the matter had already been decided. Kabru kept his gaze forward, his jaw set as he tried to avoid excusing himself and dashing into the woods regardless of those likely watching them from afar. Rin made no move to comfort him, likely could hardly stand the look of him as he spoke such a way in her presence, once again stating before her that he had not planned on marriage, must less engagement, any time soon.
As they neared the balcony, Kabru seized the opportunity to break away, offering a polite bow. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
Without waiting for a response, he stepped onto the terrace, grateful for even a brief reprieve from the stifling air that family brought. He climbed the stairs, stopping upon meeting a small table near the center balustrade. There sat a wooden box with velvet lining across the hinges. Kabru approached it slowly, a sense of unease creeping over him as though he already knew what lay inside. When he opened the box, the contents confirmed his suspicions. Nestled within was a ring, modest yet elegant, the sunlight catching the glint of its polished surface. It was simple in design but unmistakable in its purpose.
Kabru stood frozen for a moment, staring at the ring as if it were some kind of trap laid just for him. The implications– He glanced toward the bottom of the staircase where Rin and her father lingered. Breath caught, he then noticed how silent the garden had fallen. The musicians behind him ceased their song, and he could spot Milsiril navigating those nearby, gesturing them to stare up at her son atop the balcony, holding the delicate box with trembling fingers.
It had struck him then that he should have boarded a train back the previous day. He shouldn’t have submitted to Milsiril’s whims of treating him to new tailored suits, nor allowed for his hair to be cut, nor accept her gifts of newer shoes without scuffs or the delicate silver cufflinks. It wasn’t off for her to spoil her children, including him as the oldest of their family, but he hadn’t expected to be adorned before being sent to his slaughter. Then again, when had Milsiril ever been shy since he turned 12 that he wanted him to be married?
Kabru swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the wooden box as though it might steady him. His mind raced ahead of his feet as he descended the staircase, already mentally before her with little options left and all eye’s on the back of his shoulders. Each step felt heavier than the last, cement shoes keeping him from lifting off the ground and blowing away with the breeze somewhere far away from the balcony, from the garden, from Milsiril’s home.
Rin stood at the base of the stairs, her hands clasped neatly before her, her expression betraying a flicker of apprehension that matched what had seeded in Kabru’s gut. Her gaze darted briefly to the box in his hand before quickly returning to his face, her demeanor composed yet strained like her thin, paling lips, the same one’s he would be expected to kiss, cherish, and seek after for the rest of his life. The standard of withholding a kiss even during an engagement would save him for now, but she was expected to be his last: kiss, touch, woman he ever held or laid with. He couldn’t imagine such a fate. Even she looked as though she were bracing herself for something inevitable, something she could not refuse, and Kabru hoped it was for similar reasons, similar dread. He knew her well enough. He knew how their past talks went. She did not share his sentiment, though may be turned away from his own wretched admittances.
Kabru’s mind churned, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of escape plans and excuses, none of which seemed plausible enough to satiate Milsiril for the day. His hand brushed against his pocket, and suddenly, an idea struck him. It was ridiculous, absurd even, but desperation often bred creativity, and he was running low on choices since he was unknowingly making an appearance at his own engagement party.
As he reached the last step, he hesitated. Time seemed to slow as he glanced down at the box in his hand, then subtly slipped it into his pocket and retrieved the tiny plush cat instead. The toy was faded from use, its stuffing slightly lumpy and clumped from old drool and slobber, but in that moment, it felt like a lifeline.
Rin’s composed expression faltered when she saw what he held, her dark eyes narrowing in faint confusion as she glanced up at him. Kabru managed a smile—charming, effortless, as though nothing were amiss, as if all of this was planned— and stopped in front of her, offering the toy with a strained smile. “Forgive the unconventional token,” he began, his tone light, bordering on nervous though it hardly mattered when there was enough distance between them and the guests to give some semblance of privacy. “I thought it reminded me somewhat of you, and I wanted to show you it.”
Rin’s hand extended hesitantly, her fingers brushing against the faded, torn fabric as if afraid it might disintegrate at her touch. She took the plush, holding it between her pinched fingers as her gaze lingered over it as if giving it even a moment of consideration that even Kabru wouldn’t linger for. Her composure, always so polished from years of refinement and prestigious, grueling work, began to break, and Kabru’s breath caught. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Instead, her brows furrowed, and the faintest quiver touched her bottom lip.
“I...” Her voice was soft, wavering, and she looked up at him with water welling in her eyes. “This is...” She paused, her gaze darting to the toy again, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she bore her dark, reddening eyes down at the cat. Kabru jolted a step forward before catching himself, his gaze darting to the side to the uneasy quiet of the filled garden. He needed to keep their distance. Touch would only make things worse: seen as socially unacceptable even amongst those so close to being wed if he couldn’t help it.
“It’s not what you expected, I know,” he said quickly, hands curling into fists to keep himself in check. How different it was from college, from roaming the streets with civilians where a pat of reassurance or draping yourself near an equally intoxicating lover wasn’t a shameful thing. “But it’s a... gesture of my own that I had planned. Something personal. I thought...” He trailed off, realizing how ridiculous he sounded. “I mean, it doesn’t look like much, but I-”
Rin’s shoulders stiffened, and her grip on the toy tightened. Her other hand held to silence him, trembling minutely before his eyes.
“Excuse me,” she said abruptly, her voice faint despite her effort to steady it. She stepped back, her head tilting downward as though shielding herself from the weight of the stares surrounding them. Then, with a swift turn, she walked away.
“Miss Rin—” Kabru called after her, but she didn’t look back. He held still, knowing following after and potentially being lost sight of would also reduce their interaction to little more than a scandal because of course a man would touch upon a woman caught alone– of course he, in his depraved state, a mere man, a determined affliction at birth, would not be able to resist defiling his bride-to-be upon exiting the watchful eyes of his father in law–
The silence hung heavy as he remained rooted, eyes flickering every which way despite adamantly not looking toward the crowd who whispered amongst themselves. Milsiril’s sharp heels clicked against the stone path, breaking the stillness as she approached the staircase with measured grace. Her expression was a mask of calm, but the tightness around her mouth and the gleam in her eyes betrayed her fury. Kabru would not see the end of this. He’s surprised she didn’t just drag him by the ear, fish out the ring from his pocket, and submit him into a kneel before a sobbing Rin until she accepted his modest proposal. He didn’t suppose Rin’s father, who remained standing not far away and looked almost murderous from beyond his smoke pipe, would be willing to entertain such foolary.
“Kabru,” she said softly, her voice cold enough to send a chill down his spine as she leaned close, a mere whisper of a breath passing her thin lips. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
He turned to her with great difficulty. “I didn’t intend—”
Milsiril raised a hand, cutting him off with a gesture that brooked no argument. He preferred it that way. He would not be able to “You humiliated her, Kabru: In front of her father, her family, and everyone gathered here. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Kabru wished he had the strength to turn around and walk to the road, continuing down it until a buggy passed that would allow him on until he reached the city. “I wasn’t trying to humiliate her,” Kabru tried. “It wasn’t the right moment. I can’t-”
“The moment was made for you,” she snapped, her tone still soft but biting.
Kabru bit back a hiss of retaliation in a form of words he’d most certainly regret. His shoulders sagged as he relented, played docile for now. “I’ll apologize to her. I can fix it.”
“You’ll do far more than that,” Milsiril muttered before facing the crowd. Her eyes flicked over the assembled guests, and she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But for now, we end this spectacle before you cause any further damage to our or her reputations, you arrogant boy.”
Turning on her heel, Milsiril clapped her hands delicately. “My dear friends, what a lovely afternoon this has been! Alas, I fear we must bring our gathering to an early close; there is much to celebrate at a later time. Thank you all for coming—your presence has been such a delight.”
The guests murmured in polite agreement, though the tension in the air was palpable. As the crowd began to disperse, Kabru stood frozen, his gaze trailing toward the path where Rin had disappeared. Milsiril held tight to his side for a fraction longer before going to wave the guests off, individually thanking them for making the journey, insisting they come to whatever subsequent event that would have likely been a wedding at one point or another. She left with some parting words that made Kabru’s stomach churn. “You will fix this, Kabru. You will make her father believe that you are still the son he wants for his daughter, and you will convince Rin that you are not the fool, or the ass, that you’ve made yourself out to be today.”
Kabru nodded stiffly, unable to meet her gaze. As the last of the guests filtered out, the garden fell eerily quiet. He glanced toward the woods, then nearly jumped out of his skin when something brushed his leg. His worn out dog blinked up at him through droopy eyes, panting with its pink tongue lulled out. She gave a whine, and Kabru stooped down to drag a hand down her back.
It wasn’t long before the estate was cleared beyond the usual wanderers. The night had grown still, the oppressive quiet broken only by the occasional creak of the house settling and the faint rustle of leaves outside as Kabru sat in the study, slouched in a high-backed chair, staring at the dying embers in the fireplace. He had hoped against reality that Milsiril’s anger might have dissipated after the guests left, that she may have collected her senses and thought perhaps surprising her son with his own engagement was a toe over a line. That hope was dashed when the door swung open with a sharp creak. Milsiril entered, her posture straight and hair as smoothed and braided as before, though her usual poised elegance was shadowed by a palpable fury that appeared to increase upon seeing him lounging in a chair instead of repenting or writing acres of apologies. She closed the door softly, the restrained sound far more menacing than any slam she could perform.
“Kabru.”
“Mother,” he said in return despite being fainter, more uncertain.
She crossed the room, stopping before him. “We are going to have a proper conversation, and you will not interrupt.”
He sat up straighter, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Mother, I’ve already said—”
“Not,” she snapped, “a word. You will listen, Kabru. You will listen because I will not repeat myself again.”
Neither moved for a solid moment, but then Kabru leaned back in his chair, settling. He swallowed hard, the defiance he had clung to earlier ebbing away under her withering gaze. It was useless trying to deal with her in this state, and he’d have his time. Not in conversation with her, but in a way to navigate the aftermath alone.
“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone for you while you’ve been away,” Milsiril whispered. “The alliances I’ve forged, the sacrifices I’ve made: all for you. All for you to have a future free of the struggles I’ve endured, all so you can have the perfect life. And how laughable my efforts are, don’t you agree? While you were off at college, not studying, or being the noble, good son upholding the family name so generously given to you, but spending your evenings in taverns, drinking, and chasing after women you had no business involving yourself with— Do you think I’m blind to what happens in the world outside this estate?”
Kabru looked down at his hands, his jaw clenched tightly to avoid cutting in.
“You humiliated Rin,” she continued. “In front of her father, her family, and every guest who gathered here tonight for you. Do you understand the gravity of what you’ve done? The social repercussions?”
“I didn’t mean to humiliate her,” Kabru shot back. “I didn’t— there was- I panicked—”
“Panicked?” Milsiril laughed, sharp as the poker resting on the floor beside a few logs. “Oh, how awful to be given such a gift. How tragic of you to be handed such a lovely life, a beautiful country home in a dowry, a wife with-”
Kabru stood from his seat, jaw twitching, but it didn’t stop his following shout of, “You’re the one who put me in this position! I told you I wasn’t ready to marry, I made it very clear that I didn’t want-”
“What you want?” she repeated, dripping with disdain. She hadn’t backed an inch despite how much shorter she was, and rightfully so. Kabru knew better than to challenge her on most days, but he couldn’t help the fire under his skin, the itch to run. “What you want is irrelevant, Kabru. I’ve let you have your fun, your studies, your travel, but now you must act like the man of the household and assume your responsibilities. Do you think Rin’s father will overlook this? Do you think he’ll simply forgive your insult because you ‘panicked’? Because you weren’t, what, ready?”
Kabru breathed out through his nose. “I’ll apologize. I’ll fix things, but I won’t be forced into a marriage I don’t want.”
Milsiril shook her head. “You will do far more than apologize. You will convince Rin’s father that you are still the man he wants for his daughter. And you will show Rin that you will be her dutiful husband, the father of her children, and you will do as I say.”
“I will not,” Kabru muttered, his voice barely audible.
Milsiril took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, icy whisper. “And now, you will go to your room, Kabru. And you will stay there until I decide what to do with you. You are not to leave, and you are not to take that dog with you. Perhaps some time alone will give you the clarity you so desperately lack.”
He managed a stiff nod. She turned on her heel, crossing the study in a few measured steps as Kabru stared at the floor, fingernails biting his palms.
“And Kabru,” she said, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. “Do not test my patience. You will not like the consequences.”
He made his way upstairs, his footsteps heavy, his mind racing. By the time he reached his room, he was already planning. He couldn’t stay. He knew it before, he knew it now: He needed to leave tonight before anyone noticed. The moment he closed the door behind him, he began to move, his hands shaking as he packed a small bag. He didn’t know where he would go, or how he would get there, or how’d he’d even get, what, back to college? With Milsiril looking for him? What a joke. There was only one thing that was certain: come morning, Kabru would be gone.
Kabru paced the small confines of his room, his hands moving methodically as he began to pack, eagerly running through everything in his mind. Clothes, a few coins from whatever he could scrounge up, soap, his pocketwatch from his fifteenth birthday– He ran his hands along his dresser, then took his snuff box, his flask, a pocket knife: things that’d he’d have taken with him regardless.
His mind raced with possibilities, with plans and escape routes. But the more he moved, the heavier the weight pressing down on him grew, suffocating beneath the reality that escape wouldn’t be as simple as slipping away unnoticed. Every step he took felt heavier, as though invisible chains were tightening around his ankles. This wouldn’t end with him disappearing: she’d follow, she’d chase, she’d be looming over his shoulder, and that was what was left for him. It was either that or marry Rin. Kabru tied his bag off with a shake of his head.
The sound of the doorknob turning made him freeze mid-step, his heart pounding. The door creaked open, and for a fleeting moment, relief washed over him as his eyes ran down to meet a shorter figure than he originally thought would meet him here. It was one of his siblings, drowning in his nightwear. Kabru forced a smile and crossed the room, kneeling a foot from the doorway.
“Hey,” Kabru whispered, pursing his lips. “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep, little man?”
The child’s wide, dark eyes fixed on the bed behind Kabru where his bag laid. Biting his cheek, Kabru dropped a hand on the boy’s head, ruffling his bed-messed hair with a chuckle. “I’m just going for a walk with Sable, but you should go to bed. It’s too late for you to be wandering about. You could get hurt in the dark.”
The child didn’t move immediately. Instead, he stood there, watching, his eyes flicking toward the bag with an almost determined look. Kabru’s heart sank—he knew something wasn’t right. He could feel it. Peering out, he checked the hallway, but Milsiril wasn’t there. It was just him. Shaking his head to swipe away the lingering dread, he patted the boy’s shoulder to urge him along to his room. “Go on, I’ll play with you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t long after the boy left that he finished packing. Kabru made his way quietly toward the door, the sack thrown over his shoulder, and his hand hovered over the handle as though briefly repulsed. He took a moment to survey the room one last time, then nodded. He didn’t need to say goodbye. This hasn’t been his home for a while, and he won’t miss it. The room Milsiril brought him in, dirty and trembling, fresh off the street… lavished in new clothes and fed all he desired… He didn’t wish to have a home in it any more. He jerked the handle down.
To his shock, the door wouldn’t budge. He twisted it, pushed, tried again with more force, but it remained stuck in position. No. No. No. No. He yanked harder, but it remained impossibly still despite his efforts and strength. It was as though an iron band had sealed him inside. That kid— He cursed to himself, stepping away from the drawer.
Frustration bubbled over, and he turned toward the window. He was two stories up from the stone paths below. Would a jump be wise? Absolutely not. He still threw open his curtains regardless, then laughed loudly in despair. He could see now—servants, stationed outside, moving in pairs as though they were prison guards. The sight made his stomach twist into knots. That fucking kid– Did she send him knowing Kabru would react better than seeing her so soon after their discussion? Either way, his escape, so clear in his mind only moments ago, now was deemed impossible. They were ready for him to try leaving. Every move he had planned was laid bare, every attempt to flee anticipated.
Kabru stumbled back from the window, his breathing ragged. He fell onto the bed, slumping into the worn mattress, his hands gripping the edge as though holding on would keep him steady. The room felt smaller, the walls pressing in around him, suffocating him. How had it come to this? How had he been so easily ensnared? Why did he ever come back even for a single hour after knowing how Milsiril is, knowing how desperately she wanted him to marry, knowing-
Every noise was deafening in his ears—footsteps outside, the hum of voices drifting faintly through the cracks in the wall. He couldn’t ignore it, even when he clawed at his ears. He reached for the window again, his fingers trembling as he pressed his hands to the frame.
This wasn’t enough.
He knew it well.
Kabru couldn’t shake the fear that this was just the beginning. Milsiril wouldn’t simply allow him to be cornered and call it a night, let them talk more amicably in the morning. She would tighten her grip, make sure he could never attempt escape again unless he had a ring cutting the blood flow to his finger. He laid back onto his bed, staring at the wall. His bag dug into his back.
Kabru’s sleep was restless. He wasn’t certain he even closed his eyes. When dawn finally broke, he stirred, sitting up stiff like a mummy from a tomb. The quiet knock at the door came soon after. Without waiting for permission, when had anyone ever, a maid pushed it open without a lick of struggle, her head bowed slightly as she entered. “Master Kabru, the mistress requests your presence downstairs. She wishes to speak with you.”
Kabru didn’t respond immediately, nor at all. He only seized the bag and walked to his door, pushing past her without an ounce of patience to apologize with.. He couldn’t ignore the knot twisting in his stomach, the suspicion that had been crawling under his skin all night. She would have something else planned—some way to trap him, to twist his choices into something he couldn’t escape. He had to leave.
As he descended the grand staircase, the familiar sights of the house stretched out before him– the house colors and the permanent crests. By the front door, Milsiril was waiting. Her eyes softened slightly when they met his, no longer holding what it had the previous night. Kabru wouldn’t forget how they looked, even as an apologetic smile graced her lips. He paused before her, his hand tight on his bag.
“I owe you an apology, Kabru. I understand you must feel cornered, and I regret it.” Milsiril would never apologize for such a thing. She didn’t think she was in the wrong. “I… I suppose in the time you’ve been gone, I’ve felt despair in no longer having you with me. I only want you to have an easy life, my dear. That’s all I want.”
Kabru shook his head. “My life is only complicated when given no choice. I’m an adult, Milsiril. I can make my decisions in my own time.”
Milsiril looked as though she wanted to say something, but what was left was lackluster to her usual self. “I’ve arranged for you to finish your schooling before we truly discuss marriage in earnest.”
Kabru’s brows knit together, disbelief flickering behind his dark eyes. His mind immediately turned to skepticism, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “And what if I don’t want to finish? What if I don’t want to marry?”
Milsiril’s smile remained steady, though there was a slight warmth now in her voice. “I understand your concerns, truly. But I assure you, you will be given the time you need to think it through without the stress of last night. Once your education is complete, we can speak again—this time in a manner you find agreeable.”
Kabru narrowed his eyes, wary as ever. There was something in her tone, in the careful words she chose, that felt rehearsed—too convenient. Yet, what caught him off guard was her next statement.
“I’ve arranged for you to leave immediately,” she said softly, gesturing slightly to the carriage waiting by the road. Kabru looked out the door, eyes wide as she was truthful: she… wanted him to leave. “It’s ready to take you wherever you wish. I noticed you’ve already packed.”
Kabru’s brow furrowed further, his gaze flicking to his bag in his hand. His fingers instinctively tightened on the strap, but Milsiril didn’t seem bothered. Had she come to her senses? No way. But at least she gave him a headstart in leaving.
“And why would you do this for me?” he asked finally.
Milsiril tilted her head slightly. After a long moment, she whispered, “Because I care for you, Kabru. Even if you doubt now, I want you to know that I’m looking out for your best interests. I’ll make this easier for you; I promise.”
Kabru watched her carefully, feeling the weight of her gaze upon him, measuring every word, action, emotion carefully. Before he could question her further, she stepped forward, and kissed his cheek. It surprised him, the hair on his head standing, but he eased as she pulled back. “Have a safe journey, my son.”
Kabru’s eyes narrowed further, his lips tightening. He felt the familiar pang of distrust, the tight coil in his chest that had grown tighter over the past hours, as well as the years he was raised in her care. She’s planning something. She always is. But there was a genuine tone that flickered in her voice, something that gave him some pause. He sighed quietly, weighing his options as he stared up at the buggy waiting for him.
“Thank you,” he said. Before he could say another word, she leaned in again, this time tilting her cheek up slightly. He played along, gently pressing a kiss to her cheek. It wasn’t meant to linger—it was polite, distant, but enough to convey gratitude. And then, without a word, he turned and stepped toward the carriage.
As the door shut behind him, Milsiril’s words echoed in his mind—whether genuine or not, which they likely were not— he had a chance to leave now, and he would take it.
Kabru settled stiffly into the carriage, his bag resting on his lap. The seat was softer than he expected, almost mockingly comfortable, given the circumstances. It was too nice compared to the miles of walking he had thought he’d make in the middle of the night. The wheels groaned as the buggy lurched forward, and the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse's hooves filled the otherwise quiet morning. He leaned his head back against the seat, exhaling heavily, but the tight coil in his chest refused to loosen even when his tired eyes closed, eager to receive some shut-eye.
As they rolled past the first gates, the familiar bark broke through his thoughts and sent him careening forward. He scooted toward the window and pulled the curtain aside, swimming his gaze across the yard until he spotted Sable amongst the luscious green grass. He smiled, his fingers curling to hold the fabric back as he tried to send her a goodbye wave, a parting he’d always regret, but then he spotted rope around her collar, the other end a tight wire to one of the few trees, taut.
Kabru watched as Helki stepped into view, fiddling with something between his hands and the ends of his smock. When Helki raised his arm, he was holding a flintlock. Kabru’s breath caught.
“No, no, hey!” He pounded on the divider window between him and the driver. “Stop the carriage– stop it!”
He fumbled for the door handle, but the buggy was already picking up speed, the wheels bouncing along the uneven road. All he could do was watch Sable, barking defiantly toward Helki, her wrinkles jowls waving in the air, her ears pinned, as Helki stood stock still for a moment, a singular breath, then pulled the trigger.