Chapter 9
Hildre pressed the flat of her palm up against the cool glass of the Intensive Care Unit viewing window. She kept it low, near the plastic strip of window that served as a sill, trying not to draw attention to this display of her personal emotion. It wouldn't do for it to be seen, especially since Trowa was nearby, and he always made Hildre uncomfortable. His eyes tended to be too penetrating and she found Zechs' all-seeing gaze preferable to that of Trowa. Zechs had a broad kind of sight, the kind that saw everything all at once and singled nothing out. Trowa could look right at you and know everything you didn't want him to through perception. They were both sitting in the waiting room just outside the door. In window's reflection, she could make out Zechs. His eyes were cast over the cold tile floor, as always, lost in his own thought, and he fidgeted a great deal now, always twiddling his fingers on his lap. She could only make out half of Trowa through the reflection. He was as still as a corpse.
On the other side of the window, the respirator pumped oxygen into Duo's lungs. There were all manner of tubes coming in and out of him and an array of beeping could be heard even through the glass, each with a different pitch. Duo lay amidst the tangle of tubes and sheets. The skin of his face had the same dry pallor of a latex mask and his features were so slack that he was practically unrecognizable. The doctors had cut his braid off to keep it out of the way, and his hair was now short to his head. Was it really Duo lying in there with his lids so lightly closed they almost looked as if he was about to wake? How could that be the same Duo who had confounded and intrigued her when she worked for OZ all those years ago; the same Duo who had allowed her to shack up with him on L2 even though he was a terrorist and couldn't really risk keeping anybody close; the same Duo she had begged to take her to Earth; the same Duo who had stayed with her in Brussels even though his life had always been in Outer Space; the same Duo with whom her last words had been spoken in anger? He looked like a corpse that was only being held together by string, a shadow of her lover. This was their Duo Maxwell, the great spring of vitality that no one really had the energy to keep up with, that everyone came to like in spite of themselves. Duo Maxwell, the self proclaimed God of Death with an overpowering amount of life, one of the five Gundam Pilots whose number was so infinite it would never come up, how could this be the same? The air was sterile and chilled with no answer for her.
She turned abruptly from the waxy comatose image separated from her by a thick piece of glass. The whole universe might have been laid inside that pane of glass. Duo was beyond reach. Hildre couldn't linger and watch as the universe inside the glass collapsed with Duo's passing. She wasn't going to stay to witness him wither out of the world without being given a last free breath in it. She set her face firmly and walked back into the waiting room where Trowa rose as she entered. Zechs' demeanor didn't change. He was still lost internally as his fingers worried his kneecap.
"I'm ready" she said flatly with a small clearing of her throat.
"Didn't you want to go in and see him?" Trowa's penetrating voice was comparable to his gaze. Hildre didn't answer nor look at him. She turned to Zechs and barked to get his attention.
"You can go in if you want"
Zechs was slightly startled, but the Lightening Count had always been good at the quick recovery. His eyes slid into ICU for a moment and then back on Hildre as he rose from the chair, declining the offer. Trowa's face never changed and his body never lost its fluidity as he walked through the hospital with them. If he was disappointed in his two companions, he did not remark on it or show it in anyway. In a solemn single file line which Zechs lead, the three exited the hospital into a waiting car.
Hildre wanted to ask Zechs if he knew when or if Duo would wake or if he would merely succumb at some moment and fade out. She wasn't sure Zechs had that kind of vision, but even if he did, she couldn't bring herself to ask. The answer was too much of a risk, for she believed everything that Zechs said, even though it was little. If Zechs said that Duo would die, then she would begin burying him immediately inside her heart. She couldn't ask him because she wasn't ready to let the dirt fall on his coffin yet. So she kept her peace. Trowa cut their solemn silence once the car started forward.
"Quatre tracked Alendro to one of the Eastern Seaboard cities. The Magunacs have him in their custody. They will be returning to Brussels directly. We thought it best to bring him here instead of keeping him inside enemy territory."
"Which city?"
"Boston."
"Humph." Zechs was pensive again. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and frowned in concentration. Hildre watched him closely, estimating him.
"I am not sure Boston is enemy territory" he commented at length.
"Quatre would be inclined to agree with you. He feels the people there are not especially hostile, some just desperate."
"What makes them desperate?" Hildre asked the young man.
"They are in crisis there. A cluster of genetic diseases has ravaged a segment of the population."
"What kind of genetic diseases?"
"Mostly cancer. The radiation from the Third War affected the people who resettled there about a century ago. It mutated DNA and gave rise to a number of genetic cancers that are very difficult to treat. The ESUN has been more preoccupied with rebuilding and maintaining the Colonies to give real attention to the North American crisis. They are coping the best way they can, but in the last thirty years a number of genetic mental disorders have arisen that is making it harder."
Zechs' attention was caught. "What kind of mental disorders?"
"They are mostly aggressive dementia, very aggressive. I don't know much beyond that."
"Humph"
"When will Quatre get back?" Hildre asked.
"Quatre isn't coming back right away. I don't know if you have been told, but his fiancé is missing."
"Okami?"
Trowa nodded. "She disappeared the night of the attack. Quatre thinks she ran away somewhere. She was troubled last time he saw her, deeply troubled. A part of her never seemed to recover from the incident of Lady Une's attempted assassination. He is still trying to find her; limited sources indicate she went west."
Hildre put her head back against the seat. Things were moving too fast to keep up with and change was screaming around every corner. At least she could count on the Gundam pilots to remain somewhat constant in their characters. God knew Zechs would not. He had fazed them out and was once again deep in thought, his eyes tended to bounce back and forth as if he was dreaming while awake. Hildre had a strong feeling he was doing just that. She touched him on the shoulder to wake him back up.
"What are you thinking?"
He gave her a very cold look that told her she had no right to know. It melted almost instantly, indicating she was one of the only people he would allow to ask. Zechs heaved a sigh and rubbed his face, she could see him trying to push away what ever thoughts had been haunting him.
"I was thinking that Sally really needs a boyfriend." He propped his elbow on the car door and rested his head on his hand. He was lying of course. The comment was so out of bounds that Hildre couldn't help but smile. She liked this aspect of Zechs, when he showed himself to be still human with human thoughts, humors, and whims. Sometimes, especially lately, she worried that the humanity was seeping out of him as the visions became more frequent.
"Are you volunteering?" Trowa ventured with only a slight change in his voice to hint at amusement. Zechs forehead wrinkled.
"She's not my type. Not that she isn't attractive. Just not what I go for."
"What is your type, Zechs?" Hildre pursued. She knew the answer, but she wanted to see how far he was willing to go. He caught on to her unspoken game immediately and Hildre wondered if Trowa, with his uncanny perceptions, would catch on too.
"I like my women at least half my size, raven-haired, light eyes, and very subordinate, under my direct command. You know anyone like that, Hildre?" He winked at her, and she would have laughed at his flirtatious evasion of the truth if the Duo-shaped hole inside her hadn't prevented it.
"Really? I have always thought your tastes ran toward the Commander's chair, not the subordinate's." she pushed back. Now he wasn't amused. The slight smile remained but the levity left is eyes, letting her know that she was treading on unwelcome grounds.
"Only career wise, Miss Schbeiker. " There was a tense moment of silence following. Trowa broke it.
"I thought you two knew about Sally."
"Know what?" Hildre asked him. He recoiled slightly and was silent. Hildre stammered a breath out. Had she actually caught Trowa Barton saying more than he had meant to?
"What are we supposed to know about Sally?" Zechs asked rubbing his temple with eyes closed.
"Is she in love with Wufei? That's it, I knew it! That has to be it!" Hildre leaned over Trowa to get some clue. The former Heavyarms pilot only looked at Zechs. The two met eyes and a distinctly male communication passed between them. Hildre looked from one to the other. Finally Zechs chuckled cynically in understanding, still rubbing his temple.
"God, you can't be serious, Trowa."
Trowa nodded.
"What?" she crowed.
"It explains so much. I'm completely blind to those kinds of things."
"WHAT?"
"See, I told you she wasn't my type." Zechs emphasized his point with a wave of his finger. The car halted at Preventer Headquarters.
"Guys, tell me! What?"
"We'll tell you when you are older, little one" Zechs answered her as he exited the car. Hildre huffed in frustration, but soon realized the frustration was a welcome distraction from the ICU that housed what was left of Duo Maxwell. She was undoubtedly ashamed of the way she sought refuge from her thoughts of Duo. But her discipline had been honed by this past year working with the Preventers. Dwelling on unchangeable things only hampered one's ability to work. Now was not the time to be lost in grief over Duo, not when so much was happening. This was an important time. Things had been moving so fast and then had suddenly halted. The world had stopped and become quiet again, which, according to Zechs, indicated an approaching explosion. Duo could not cloud her mind while she needed to keep it sharp. She had also come to admire the way people like Zechs and Lady Une carried themselves in crisis, always calm and in control. Sometimes Zechs had outbursts. He was never as passive as Lady Une when it came to stress. But essentially they were both able at carrying their troubles in some higher compartment of their brain where it wouldn't interfere with duty. Hildre wanted that kind of control. Even Zechs' words to her yesterday did not deter her.
"It is not control, Hildre. It is coldness. In Anne's case it is something far worse."
Hildre couldn't give full credit to what he said about Anne, due to his reluctance to say her name, and the tone of his voice when he did. Clearly, Zechs was deeply angry with her, deeply affected by her, and very frustrated with that fact. After all this time, Hildre had become very intuitive when it came to Preventer Wind. It wasn't likely that he would ever admit to being in love, but nor would he deny it. At first she had thought that he was merely acting out of an insane sense of obligation. But no, she had seen enough in him to tell the difference. She thought perhaps that this kind of love was a new thing for him. It was certainly not the garden variety romance. Neither Zechs nor Lady Une had ever appeared to be made of romantic timber. All they had ever done together was fight and disagree, and yet they had been living together for over a year. If that was love, it was the most unconventional kind she had ever seen, certainly nothing like she had experienced with Duo. But again, as far as Zechs went, ordinary love seemed out of place. He was anything but average and so no average kind of love would suit him. Zechs Merquise was a man almost beyond the realm of handsome, and yet Hildre knew that women drawn to him physically were quickly put off by his personality. It took a special kind of woman to break through his walls and put up with his tantrums. He was introverted in some respects, but confrontational enough to ward off the kind of women who are drawn to "quiet types". Principal among his flaws was his tendency to dominate every situation he was involved in. That was why he was constantly fighting with Lady Une. She was the undisputed queen bee of her office, of her household, and of her life. Hildre had watched as the two tried to manage each other for the better part of a year and came out of each attempt with new resentment, new challenges, and new arguments for each other. If that was love, then it was beyond her understanding. But of course, there was always the sides of them she didn't see, and she felt that it was there were their connection might truly lie. Perhaps she was wrong, although she doubted it. For Anne's part, she could make no assumptions about affection. Zechs, at least to her, was an obvious case.
Hildre didn't know how much of Zechs was obvious to others. He really only allowed her into his company these days. She was his personal aide, a full-fledged Preventer in everything but name. Zechs recognized that she wasn't afraid of him, and she wasn't in the least. It was his gift that unsettled her, not the man himself. But that kind of attitude made him keep her close. She was, in essence, the only person he trusted right now.
There were reports abound when they reached the upper level where the Commander's office, now Zechs' office, was located. Luscian Tenne, Tenacious was waiting inside the office with Sally. Hildre could feel the young man's confidence radiating from the hallway. He was ready with a report on a recent encounter with the Isle Calypsos. They were not responding to the EMP with the same efficiency as before. In some cases the Scorpio's EMP had no effect at all. The Calypso suits had hit there target in Korea undetected, taken pot shots at a few Scorpios, and retreated.
"We can't track 'em. Can't track 'em, can't engage 'em, can't stop him. You're brilliant strategy is loosing its shine." He said to Zechs. Hildre marveled at the man's audacity and constant criticism. Zechs usually gave him warning looks, but never really brought him a notch. She thought perhaps Zechs saw a little of himself in the daring Tenacious. As she pondered him, Ten caught her heavy stare, and winked. Hildre blushed in spite of her steadiness.
He was right, however. Their means of defending against the Isle suits were failing. The enemy had found a way around their attacks. It was back to square one again. If they didn't find a new successful plan, the world would come crashing down around them. For two weeks, the nation had been in a state of emergency, deferring the structure of power to the local level. In short, all former territories were taking care of themselves until the crisis passed, or the world changed again. It was ironic to Hildre. Lady Aria had desired the dissolving of the ESUN and the relinquishment of her nation to its own control. In a way, she had gained it. With the ESUN in suspension and the Preventers acting as a protective cleaning crew, every nation was left to its own devices to survive, local governments where becoming national governments. Everything was reverting back to the way it had been centuries ago. Had Aria known this would happen? She didn't think so. Zechs had once said that Aria's motives and intensions all tended around a confined location. She only cared about the Isle and the former United States, everything else could burn.
Perhaps everything else would burn.
"The Colonies are getting edgy. There have been reports of increased bartering at La Grange Point. There isn't much trade going on from the Earth Sphere, so they are trying to compensate and maintain their local economies. Local politicians are speaking out against the structure of the ESUN."
Zechs rubbed the bridge of his nose as he sat in his chair. "They know very little of democracy, of its setbacks and failings. The Colonies are used to having their government spoon-fed to them. So if something goes wrong, they start getting insecure, thinking the ground will fall out from underneath them"
Hildre was a little put off by the Commander's summation of her Homeland. "It's not easy living life in Space" she countered from the side, keeping her eyes forward and unobtrusive while Zechs scoffed.
"Living life is not easy on any grounds. Doesn't matter if it's made of earth or metal."
"You have orders, sir?" Ten had no interest in philosophic discussions, only his orders.
"No. You are dismissed. When I have orders, you will hear them from your superiors. I give commands to them first." Zechs waved the man off, which clearly offended the youth. Tenacious did not like to be dismissed. Zechs was likely giving him a lesson on the chain of command. Ten saluted crisply and left without objection. Hildre dropped down in the chair in front of Zechs' desk. She was tired. They were both tired.
"You ok?" he asked her.
"Yeah, just worried about all of this." She answered him.
"I meant about Duo."
She didn't answer. It wasn't to be discussed now. Other things needed attention. "What are you going to do about the Isle?" she asked. He looked at her for a while; his eyes were reserved, cool, like well water.
"I am waiting. I am waiting to See more."
"You haven't Seen enough yet?" Not everyone knew about his visions, but enough people did. But none of them knew what he Saw. He hadn't even told her about what he had Seen and she had come to fear what might lay on the horizon of Zechs' foresight. It might be terrible if Zechs felt he couldn't speak of it.
" Understand, Hildre, I am not the only one who is able to See" he whispered, then fell silent. Hildre wondered what he meant. But he wasn't going to talk. It was evident in his body language. When he was silent like this, it reminded her of the first time she had really met him, after Noin's funeral when she, a bubbly young woman still called Hilde by most, tried to coax him into playing a game of soccer. He had been morose and quiet then. If he didn't want to talk, then there would be no making him, even if it made him miserable to be silent, and she suspected it did make him miserable. Hildre thought that Zechs had probably always been this way, a servant to his own ongoing misery. She also wondered if he liked it that way, if suffering was so frequent in his life that it was comforting, familiar.
"Do you think you will ever stop suffering?"
Zechs snapped his attention to her.
Boy that worked. I'll have to use that line more often she thought to herself. Zechs curled his fingers slowly into a fist, but he leaned back loosely. After a ten second pause that Hildre felt every beat of, he cracked a smile.
"You know she asked me that once before too and in just the same way" he answered. Hildre rolled her eyes sarcastically at him. Again with the Anne references. He needed to keep his mind off unattainable women.
"Are you STILL on about her? Pfff… We need to get you some fresh meat. Maybe you should take a stroll down Buchard Avenue. See the sights, ride the rides"
"That's the red light district, bitch" he glared at her while she laughed.
"I'm glad to see you're already familiar with it."
"Maybe I should just take you to bed. It would be faster and cheaper" He flicked his eyebrows at her jokingly and she laughed at his cruder side. But now really wasn't the time for off-color humor.
"Now, we need a plan of action. I trust you, Zechs, but you heard what Ten said. The EMP's aren't working. We can't wait on the possibility that you will have another useful vision, one that won't kill you that is. Things are going to fall apart if we don't move."
"Ah, but don't you see the difference. We haven't been moving. Neither has the Isle. Things are at quite a standstill right now. All there has been since they attacked Head Quarters and the Khushrenada estate is piddling crap, small attacks, flee bites compared to what they were doing before. They have stalled. They are waiting for something. We have some time, but not much." His voice trailed off and he began losing his train of thought. Sometimes his thoughts and thought patterns mesmerized him, she had seen it happen before. He would lose himself in inner musings.
With a jerk, Zechs pushed himself erect in the chair and started shuffling through papers. "Not too much time left, some but not too much". Just as abruptly he stopped, with a handful held aloft, and flung them over the desk.
"I hate paperwork" he hissed. Hildre looked at him with confusion. Zechs could be downright weird.
"I think I should go" she whispered. He might be about to have another fit. But unlike the previous times, Hildre didn't feel strong enough to witness this one.
"Send Wufei to me . . . and I will need to talk to Trowa. I need to know about Yuy." He started rambling, eyes darting as if reading the air. She had the sense that he was watching something inside his head, events and voices of what he had seen, replaying in the hopes that they would make sense. "Go home for a while, Hildre. Go do something that will relax you. I know seeing Duo today was hard."
"I can take it."
"You shouldn't have to. Only impossibly stupid people keep themselves in a state of misery. It's why she and I are so well suited. I see that now."
He didn't say anything more, but started retrieving and sorting the papers he had scattered. Hildre watched her oblivious commander for a moment longer; then walked out of his office. He was right. She needed to relax for a little bit, but not think of Duo. There was no time for Duo now. Time had run out for Duo long ago and now the seconds were merely speeding then both away. But she couldn't think of that now. So she made her way to the Armory where the Scorpios were stored. She would find the appropriate relaxation there.
*************************
I remember the portrait. It had been painted while I was at Madame Lefrey's, one of the many reasons I hated it. I had just turned fourteen when they dressed me in my family regalia and put my likeness down in oils. Physically, it was an excellent. It took on everything that youth had bestowed to me. My hair curled tightly in those days, before the war would give me the fever strong enough that would completely straighten it. In my younger days, my hair had been far darker than it became in my adulthood, and I was some years away from the sculptured features that time and trials would award me. However, I never held myself as I did in that portrait, even when I did wear the uniform of my father's army. The posture was too authoritarian. I, especially in those days, had never had such authority. True, I have been a leader, but I never carried myself in that way. That was a Treize stance. I hated it, because I did not see the girl in the picture as me. The portrait hung in the house in Ireland while we stayed there. Aria admired it greatly. I never really told her of my dislike, instead I basked in her admiration of me.
I remember that I was reading when Bram came that day. It was cold that day, winding down to winter. The rest of the weather of that day was lost to my memory. Perhaps it was raining. Maybe there was sun. The only thing I really remember was that there was Bram, tall and strong, with a slight, fatherly smile on his face, standing there in my room as I entered it.
"Leecy, you look very well" was all he said at first as he looked me over. He undoubtedly noticed the tan I had gained from my hours in the sun with Aria. My hair had taken on a red sheen as well from sun-kissed highlights. Most of all, I am sure he noted that I was happy; my life had been a dream in Ireland, and the blacker events, the rape, my apparent mental disorder, a nightmare now passed. I bowed to him, smiling.
"I see you have grown up. Quite a young beauty" Bram said. Then he did something odd. He walked toward me and embraced me, as if he were an uncle I had not seen in years, or better yet, a father. I embraced him back, glad he had come. He would want to hear of all the progress I had made. I asked him if he would take tea with us, it being almost four o clock. He agreed and I ran to get Aria. She was not as happy to see Mr. Wickfield as I. Aria was never as close to our father's chief attendant and suspected his presence heralded another change in our life. Mrs. Collins sat with us as we had our snack. Bram quietly listened to our chatter. The twins were not present, off somewhere else. I don't remember where. At length, I asked a question that had worried me the moment I had seen him.
"Is father coming?"
Bram put down his tea and cleared his throat. "No"
"Are you taking us home?"
Again he shook his head. I smiled in relief.
"I was afraid you had come to take us back."
"No Leecy, not back, not home, but you will be leaving Ireland."
My heart dropped and I grasped Aria's hand. My first concern was to stay with my sister. We would not be separated again. Beside me, Aria squeezed my hand.
"Do not fear, my child, Aria will be with you. But you both are leaving."
"Where are we going?" I remember my voice sounding so young and scared. The last time I had been taken away, it had not ended well.
"You and Aria are going to Lyon. It is time for you to be introduced into Romafellar." He answered smoothly and took up his tea. I stood at once, outraged.
"Are you mad Bram? I cannot go before Romafellar, not after what happened. They will know me for what I am and for what I did! Why is my father doing this? You told me he was not angry with me for what happened at the school." I probably looked close to tears, but as always, I never cried.
"You will be protected, Leecy. Do not fear. What you did, is not all that uncommon in Romafellar, and certainly not uncommon for your family. I suspect many members believe you did the natural thing. It is time you and your sister learned the world you will soon have to live in and how your family relates to that world."
I stood, reeling on the inside. Within me, every jerk my life had been given, from the Dojo, to Lefrey's, and then to Ireland, was replaying. I was getting so tired of being pushed around to different locations to learn about myself and my family. But for all I had endured, I knew so little. I was angry, as always. When was I to be in control of my own path? Why didn't I get to know about where I was heading? Was it all supposed to come crashing down on me one day, and then I would understand? What was Eldest Child and how would anything I had experienced aid me in holding the position? I was tired of all this maneuvering. But I was also resolved. It was time to get some answers; to take some initiative. I turned on Bram and held my spine straight, instinctually lowering my voice as I asked the question.
"Bram, you will tell me who Jareth Khushrenada is." It was, or course, not a request. Bram looked at me for a moment, sipped his tea and rose. I thought perhaps I had overstepped my bounds and he was angry. But as he approached me, he swept down before me in a low western bow. He had been waiting for me to assume an attitude of a woman with a title before he would behave as a subordinate. It had been a matter of me understanding our respective places. He was my servant, as they all were. I never thought until that moment that they were all under my command. Everyone, save my father, belonged to me. I was Lady of Dover, Countess of Mortain. This was my right. At my feet, Bram reported.
"My Lady, Jareth Khushrenada is the patriarch of the Khushrenada family, who reside in Lyon. It is to his home that you and your sister will be traveling. His family is very powerful in the foundation, like your own family."
"Has my father given me over to him?"
"Pardon?"
"I have met the young man, Treize."
"You've met Treize Khushrenada? Where? Did that hooligan show his face in this house? If he so much as-"
"I met him at Madame Lefrey's. I am sure you and my father knew what he was doing there. Now tell me what he has to do with me. Has my father arranged for me to become a member of that family?"
Bram shook his head, laughing slightly. "No Leecy, Jareth Khushrenada had hoped to strike a match between you and his eldest son. He met with your father several times to discuss the matter. You see Leecy, the Khushrenadas are extremely powerful and influential. They are directly related to the Dermails. Duke Dermail is of course the head of Romafellar. Jareth's son, Treize is being groomed to become the ruling officer of Romafellar's military instillation, OZ. Jareth, to his credit, recognizes that the Delizabanes have great power in the Foundation as well. Your family surpasses the wealth of such families as the Weyridges and Catalonias. If the Khushrenadas wish to cement their power in Romafellar, marrying into the Delizabanes would be the golden key to it."
"Why are we so powerful? We do not even associate with these people you speak of."
"Your family is a member of the Foundation. It has been for over one hundred and fifty years. But because of the cultural beliefs of our Isle society, we do not advertise our involvement. Romafellar is extremely aristocratic. We prefer to be less pretentious of course. But our value within the society is not to be taken lightly. We are the largest producers of Mobile Suits in the Foundation. Your father owns every Mobile Suit manufacturing plant in the Isle and in the Rhineland. Your father is a defense contractor for the Alliance and for OZ. The Isle is where new Mobile Suit technology is designed. Or did you never wonder what took place in the complex behind the manor house? And of course, Romafellar has certain advantages for us as well."
Yes, it all made far more sense now. I should have asserted my authority in this fashion long ago.
"And am I engaged to Mr. Khushrenada's son, for he seemed to think so when last we met." I asked.
"No, your father would have none of that. He does not hold to arranged marriages. You are to be Eldest Child in his place. If you should marry a Khushrenada, undoubtedly you would lose your power to your husband. Merrick would never have that. Those Khushrenadas are tricky, and your father abhors them. Besides, your father has plans for you that extend beyond being a simple wife to an arrogant aristocrat. He would rather see you dead than married into to their treacherous brood."
"And yet you are sending Aria and I to them." This was more puzzling by the moment. But I was relieved to find I had not been given to anyone.
"Trust your father's judgment, Leecy. It is for your benefit that he sends you there."
It was perhaps the first time I had ever glimpsed the encompassing world of my future. That future stood on the edge of my vision, startling and vast, like an ocean. It covered the whole horizon and I knew something more would be required of me if I was to stay afloat. I would keep this authority I had so recently grasped, and I would hold onto my anger. It could keep me strong and alert. Sighing heavily, I turned to Bram, my face fixed as I shakily assumed the poise of a Countess. Unbeknownst to me, I had just taken my first real step toward Lady Une.
"Bram" my voice was already inching toward the depth I carry today.
"I have waited a long time for you to grow into yourself, my Lady. It is my honor to serve you, as I serve your father." He still knelt before me. His pride and flatter did not soften me.
"Whenever I have a question, you will answer it. You will not skitter about the truth. I want to have full knowledge of ever situation I am walking into in Romafellar. Neither I, nor my sister will be kept in the dark again."
Bram nodded obediently. It was completely surreal, but also invigorating to hold such power over men, to realize the length of my grasp after so spending so much time under the blind direction of others. Sitting on the chair, I could feel Aria's fascination soar as if it were a tangible line connected to my brain stem. I sat down again, allowing Bram to regain his own seat across from me, ready for any question. By this time, the transformation into Countess had been completed, the rush of power relieving any apprehension. From the instant I took my first taste of it, the ability to command came as natural to me as breathing.
"Now" I started, picking up my tea again. "Tell me of the mental disorder that Dr. Alendro believes I have."
Without hesitation, he told me everything. It was called Mentescadere (sinking of the mind), the genetic dementia inherited from my American bloodline. A dominate trait disease that withers the senses and causes violent tendencies in the bearer, onset during puberty, symptomatic by early twenties. In its kinder forms, it manifested itself as acute memory loss and gradual loss of wits, not unlike Alzheimer's. The more severe cases resembled paranoid Schizophrenia, complete with violent outbursts and loss of focus and lucidity. The first stage of the disorder was called the Functional Stage, where the affected could still carry out daily thoughts and tasks with little interruption. Passing years would bring on more severe symptoms, finally spiraling into madness with either complete loss of memory or complete reinvention of the past.
We spoke of it at length before Bram respectfully reported that we should begin preparation for our departure. I dismissed him and had Mrs. Collins summon the children to me. She bowed with deference, acknowledging my newly discovered authority. Soon, my little brother and sister were before me, Mathius stealing crackers from the table. I sadly told them of our imminent departure. They both cried. I held them for a long while, especially Mathius. . . that is all I wished to recall of those moments.
After dinner, I met with Taber and told him the news. He was unhappy, but his tone as he spoke told me this day had never been far from his mind. "There's not a man alive that has a grip tight enough to hold onto you." He kissed my forehead and left me. It was the last I saw of my 'true' first.
We oversaw packing that night. Aria and I were unusually quiet; both pondering what lay ahead of us. The finery was paramount in our travel cases. We would need our luxuries in Lyon among the aristocratic elite of Romafellar. However, our uniforms would also be donned and they were carefully packed. Bram explained that it would important for us to distinguish ourselves among the rabble. There were so many young women among Romafellar functions that they became nameless and faceless. If we did not wish that to happen, we would need to wear something that signified us as someone above the rest of the crowd.
"Do not forget these." Aria spoke, handing over our mother's glasses from her desk drawer.
"And this, you will want this" I pointed to a book on her shelf. It was a book of Roman commentaries. Chief among them was the account of Anthony and Cleopatra. She particularly enjoyed the phrase
"Et rogavit Romana,
'Haec te Regina bene facere erant?'
Et servus respondit,
'Superus bene.
Ceu congruous exterum tot regium nobelium.'"
"And the Roman asked,
'Were these things well done by your Lady?'
And the servant answered
'Exceedingly well.
As befits the last of so many noble rulers' "
Aria found the passage extremely meaningful, almost in a prophetic sense. She never tired of me reading the line to her, always saying she preferred it from my mouth than from her own.
The next morning we rose early and took a last walk around the property. It was the last look I had on fair Western Ireland, a fact that sticks in my throat to this day as one of the only reasons for which I might hate Zechs. It was cool, but still misty near the blue-gray sea. The grass under our feet was bitten by cold and crunched like hay under our heels. And it was quiet, so quiet but for the waves, peacefully quiet, not like the quiet of Space, not empty.
We departed directly, this time by air, which was so much faster than traveling the channel sea. We flew directly to Lyon were a car awaited to take the three of us, Aria, Bram, and myself, to Manoir Cristal, the opulent estate of Jareth Khushrenada. Neither of us was nervous at that point. In fact I think my sister and I felt quite indifferent as a matter of defense. The coiled-iron gate that marked the property was not unlike our own in Dover, bearing an ornate K as opposed to the familiar D. Frost clung to the grassy stubble of the lawn, it glistened in the afternoon light. The house behind the gate was a white Georgian behemoth that rose endlessly toward the stratosphere. A dozen large columns lined the front of the house, holding it up. They were etched with a fine Neo Classical scroll work. It was elegant, but the sheer size of the manor hinted at robustness. To me, though I would now admit to loving the Manoir, then it was just another oversized house, likely sheltering a gaggle of oversized egos.
"It looks like a library" murmured Aria beside me.
A beautiful woman was there to greet us, standing on the veranda just off the stone steps that lead off the columned porch. She wore yellow silk and chiffon that spilled out behind her in a wave, with a fur-lined yellow shawl sheltering her from the bite in the air. Her hair was black and shimmering, tied back with a band of yellow to match the dress she wore. Her skin was tanned but not enough to be considered anything more than Mediterranean tinted. Her eyes were bright blue and they stood out keenly from dark lashes. Underneath the skin, equally delicate bones made up the planes of her face and body, arranged petite with gentle curves. She stood taller than I, slender but still womanly. Everything about the woman was graceful and gentle. In a single word, she was perfect.
Behind her, two young men stood; hands and arms folded behind their backs. One was tall, as tall as my father, his hair was a brownish-chestnut color, but his eyes were downcast as if he were bored. The other was only a boy, much smaller than the other, his hair dark and his skin like the woman in yellow. He wore a friendly smile but his eyes glistened with mischief.
"Bienvenido" the woman called out and smiled. Her face was brilliant and so fragile looking she might have been a young girl. But I could spot a matriarch at fifty paces. This was no girl standing before us.
"I am Maria Arcardia Saez Khushrenada, Duchess of Aquitaine." She reached out and grasped my hand in a feminine hand shake before taking hold of my shoulders and kissing each cheek. Her name and accent indicated a Spaniard, an enchanting lady with an enchanting voice. She looked me over with a gentle smile for a long time, making me feel like precious art.
"Es hermosa, senor Wickfield, y dignificada" Lady Arcardia cupped my chin, leaning my head back to further examine my features.
"It is only the beginning, Your Grace, I assure you. She is still quite young" Bram replied politely.
"Soy seguro, Senor" She smiled one last time and gave an approving nod. I smiled shyly in return, feeling very good about myself then. Lady Arcardia moved on to my sister, who backed away a little as if intimidated by the incoming attention.
"Ah! Another young beauty, but so diferente. Lovely red hair." The woman was able to catch Aria and bestow the same admiration. Aria looked as if she were caught in the headlights, not as receptive to compliments as I. When she had finished her examination and greeting, she began again.
"Welcome to Manoir Cristal, my young Ladies. We are honored to host the House of Delizabane in our home and hope that the young Countess and her entourage find everything acceptable."
I nodded to her cordially, still feeling the effects of this deference.
"My husband is from home at the moment and regrets that he is not able to greet you, but we expect him tonight at the latest. These young men lurking behind me are my sons, Gabriel, and Alejandro. Gabriel, venga adelante." She motioned to the younger of the boys and he came up beside her, still smiling pleasantly.
"Gabriel Frances Khushrenada" he bowed to me. I respectfully nodded, returning my full name to him, Aria following suit. Arcardia rubbed the shoulder of her youngest son affectionately and I was set at ease by the display of familial love. It was plain to see that Gabriel was her favorite. The other boy hung back with his distracted eyes still lingering on the ground. He had begun chewing on his thumb nail, seemingly in boredom.
"And this is Alejandro, my first born." She turned to present him and called his name again, but he was too distracted to heed the call. Arcardia's pleasantness wavered for a moment under this aberration in procedure.
"Treize, maintenant!"
He snapped, like a soldier, to immediate attention. His hands dropped behind his back and he stood tall, finally meeting our gaze. He obeyed his mother's beckoning arm and came forward to stand beside her. Courteously, he bowed to us, taking each of our hands and kissing them according to French custom.
"Treize Alexander. It is a pleasure to see you again, Countess." Within one breath, he had confirmed what I already knew, and it didn't set me at ease. I had hoped that we might forget there had ever been a first encounter. But when he raised his eyes to me, the dormant memory returned and I remembered him clearly from when he had stepped into the light on my balcony at Lefrey's. That night had been so filled with dread and anger that I had not marked him at all. But something inside us records everything. Looking at Treize, my mind turned easily over his features, somehow as familiar as my own; the blue eyes, the pale skin, the eyebrows that turned up at the ends, the knowing sparkle in his smile.
I think we looked at each longer than normal, for Lady Arcardia cleared her throat and Treize broke eye contact before he moved on to greet Aria,
Let me clarify however, that there was no flashing of life before my eyes, no stilling or picking up of the wind, no lightning strikes or chorus of birds. There was nothing remarkable about my first true meeting with Treize Khushrenada. All there was for me was a mental "ah ha, so that's what he looks like". I didn't feel that anything about him was particularly special. Only in hindsight do I recognize the importance of things.
"Did Lord Delizabane not come, Senor Wickfield?" Lady Arcardia allowed Bram to hold her arm as we all began walking toward Manoir Cristal. Treize offered his arm and I indifferently took it, more intent on what Lady Arcardia had asked about my father.
"Important business keeps him homebound. But he will be joining you for your famous Christmas Tide celebration." Bram answered her. Lady Arcardia laughed in response.
"Si, we have quite a nice turn out at our holiday parties. Many of the young soldiers from the Academies attend as well. I am sure the young ladies will have much attention directed toward them."
I heard Aria audibly grunt at the comment and I turned around a little to give her a sympathizing smirk. Beside me, Treize laughed.
"You will have difficulty if you wish to hide yourself from everyone this time, Miss Analicia. I don't think my mother will allow you to sequester yourself inside your bed chamber night and day."
I threw the arrogant little twit a glare and stopped briefly. How dare he be so forward with me not even five minutes after our introduction? But my annoyance only seemed to fuel his desire to bait me. "Oh, how rude of me. I should be more deferential to your title, my Lady." He tugged me along then, hard enough that I couldn't really resist him without causing a scene, and he certainly wasn't worth making a scene over. Instead I cleared my throat and tried to ignore him even as he continued to chuckle under his breath as we walked. But I held my arm rigid under his to express that he was not at all making a good impression. Treize felt it and patted my wrist condescendingly, muttering between his laughs.
"It will be quite fun having you with us, my Lady."