frozen
Jump is a warm presence against her back, a solid comfort she appreciates as she lies in her bed before the sun breaks through the gloom. In the dim grey of the predawn light she lingers for one, two, three breaths longer than she should.
By the time the sun peaks over the snow-covered hills she's only half way through her exercises, her hands numb with cold against the stone floor. A soft knock intrudes, and she's only managed to pull her robe around her shoulders before a servant carefully slides the door open.
A young girl with smooth black hair is standing in the entrance, her arms holding several packages. "I'm sorry to disturb you, my Lady, but I've brought you your gifts."
It's her first midwinter home since New Hope, and she's surprised at the treasure pile of gifts. When did she make so many friends?
She unwraps them one by one, smiling at notes and remembering jokes. A Yamani hair comb, a book, a new leather jerkin, a whittled carving of a horse, a drawing of Peachblossom, polish for her glaive… She tries hard not to notice there's no gift from Neal this time. No book on philosophy she'll pretend she won't read; no dramas or tragedies over which she'll feign disdain. No messy scrawl of sarcasm veiling affection they both tried hard to hide.
Kel almost succeeds until she unwraps the porcelain image of a waving cat.
I found this in his quarters at New Hope. He told me once you gave it to him a long time ago; I think he'd want you to have it.
- Dom
She's not sure what hurts more – the reminder of Neal's death or the bitter memories of a night that shouldn't have happened. The cat is porcelain and delicate; she wants to squeeze it in her hands and crumble it like sand. But she can't, because it was Neal's and she doesn't want to lose anymore of him as it is. She hides the cat in a small chest at the foot of her bed, and stares out the window at the snow for much too long.
---
They haven't really spoken since the last time he kissed her. Kel's not entirely sure that she wants to talk to him anyway. They sit on opposite sides of the dining hall, and when they do accidentally come in contact (which is not very often at all) they're painfully polite and take great care not to touch.
She misses Dom, she thinks one day as she watches him from across the hall. Misses his jokes and his wit and his smile. But something inside her is broken, and she's not certain she can fix it.
Kel's not good at people and feelings; she understands weapons and combat, strategy and tactics. Maybe if life was a battle she'd find it easier, but she's learnt that life is more like politics, and unfortunately she missed out on her father's talent for diplomatics.
---
Her glaive slices and whistles through the air; she loves the smoothness and the flow of one swing into the next. The courtyard around her fades and all that she sees is the glint of the blade and the blur of the wood in her hands.
She completes her final thrust and pauses, catching her breath. Sweat drips into her eyes and sticks her short hair to her cheeks in straggly clumps.
"Anyone ever told you those things are dangerous?" a mild voice enquires.
Dom is leaning against a padded wall, his stance deceptively calm. But Kel knows Dom better than he thinks; she can see the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his lips. His gaze skirts and dances and flits to and fro as though he wants to look at her but the sight of her scares him.
"Not as dangerous as some things."
She wondered when she became so good at veiled conversations; saying one thing and meaning another.
Dom sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair; she recognises the gesture as one Neal used to make when he couldn't choose between frustration and uncertainty.
"I didn't meant for it to happen," he blurts out. Kel's happy to see his cheeks flush, though she's not sure if it's shame or embarrassment.
Kel's had almost a year to think about what happened, and as time went by she realised that caring less was the only way to make the hurt go away. "I realised that when you were gone by the time I woke."
She can see her words sting.
"Kel, I really like you."
"You have a strange way of showing it."
She's not used to seeing Dom unsure of himself. "Kel, I can't… I can't offer you anything."
"Did you ever hear me ask for anything?" She know she's lying; she wanted everything from him, and he heard it when she kissed him.
"You're not making this easy for me," he points out.
"Is there a reason I should make it easy?"
He scowls. "You don't have to go out of your way to make it difficult."
Something inside her snaps, and her Yamani mask shatters for the first time in a long, long time. "Everything about this is difficult! I'm supposed to be a knight, Dom. I'm supposed to be strong and brave and not stumble when I'm confronted with a challenge. Everyone says women can't be knights because they're weak and let their emotions dictate their actions. You helped prove them right, Dom."
"You're not expected to have no emotions, Kel," Dom argues.
"Yes I am. That's why you came to me, because I wasn't supposed to read anything into it."
"Did you?" he asked.
Her eyes are burning, but she refuses to let tears escape. "No, I didn't. But you thought I would. That's why you pretend I don't exist."
The lie tastes bitter one her tongue, like bile.
"Maybe I'm the one who made the mistake, Kel. Damn it, you're one of my commanders, I'm not supposed look at you that way."
"What way?"
He's quite for a long time, studying her. "It doesn't matter."
She wants to argue, to beg him to tell her, but she's got too much pride and is too much of a coward.
"So what do we do now?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Move on, I guess."
She feels cold inside, like the snow lying outside on the ground. "So this is it?"
A small smile tugs at his lips. "No," he says. "Neal wouldn't have wanted us to end our friendship over this."
Her throat tightens with something she doesn't recognise, but she nods her head stiffly, her Yamani mask once again firmly in place. "I'll see you at the noon meal then."
"I'll save you a seat."
Kel watches him leave the indoor courtyard, his back to straight and his shoulders too stiff. She thinks maybe she just lost something important, but she's too cold and numb inside to feel the jagged pain of loss.
---
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