Petra felt so light on her feet that she barely noticed the blister forming on her heel. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from Nifa's clip, and clung to her cheek. She extended her arms by her sides, giving the impression of a bird about to take flight; secretly, she hoped that the thin layer of sweat under her arms and at the crooks of her elbows would dry. Her heart thrummed.
"I think I'm ready for a break," she gasped, and giggled. Karl led her to the side of the dance floor as they applauded the musicians. That had been a fine waltz.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked.
"Yes, please." While the lord (Petra still couldn't quite believe she'd danced four times with a lord) went to find refreshment, Petra patted her hair and waited in a clutch of women wearing organza and tulle skirts. They all belled against one another—Petra loved the look of her dress, but moving in it was a beast. She struggled to turn around, and knocked into someone's arm. She gasped as the man jerked backwards, and sloshed red wine onto his jacket. "I'm so sorry!" Petra cried, but the man waved her off.
"Don't worry, that's what happens when you drink at parties." He smiled, and Petra jolted with recognition.
"Gregor?"
"Petra?" The man—still a boy, really—squinted and then laughed. Petra slapped her forehead, mouth agape. "So the titans could spare you long enough to come to the interior?"
"I'm just amazed the MPs let you have a night off." She grinned. "I didn't see you at the last two galas."
"Yeah. I finally climbed high enough to force some rookie to take over my responsibilities. These days I mostly drink and play cards."
"What you always wanted, isn't it?"
"You know it."
Gregor had been in Petra's training corps year, and usually sat with her and Oruo and Nifa at mealtimes. The three had tried to convince him to follow them into the Survey Corps, promising adventure and total mayhem. ("That's not as tempting as you think it is," he'd told them.) But Gregor's eye had always been on the Military Police, and after Wall Maria fell he'd grown only more adamant about it.
But Petra had missed him regardless. "Where are you stationed these days? Stohess?"
"Actually, I—"
As Gregor spoke, Karl appeared by Petra's elbow, two cups of rum punch in his hand. "It's crowded in here, isn't it?" he said, sidling between the two of them and cutting Gregor off.
At the sight of the young lord, Gregor snapped to attention. He went rigid as a toy soldier. "Apologies, sir."
Petra blinked. She'd seen MPs get formal around the top ministers in the interior but…why would he be so deferential to a lord's son?
"No apology necessary," Karl said. He gave a cup of punch to Petra, and smiled down at her. "Would you like some air? It's getting stuffy in here."
"Well. Yes," she said, because it was stuffy, but…she hadn't seen Gregor in so long, and—
"Find me later, Pet." Gregor made a swift salute to Karl. "Sir."
"Thank you." With that, Karl placed a hand on the small of Petra's back and helped guide her across the chaos of the floor. She fell silent, the punch warming the palm of her hand, her thoughts wheeling. Karl hadn't been rude just now, but Petra tried to live by her instincts, as the captain had instructed. Something pinged her about that encounter, and she couldn't quite articulate what it was.
"Here." Karl pulled back a velvet curtain, revealing a large glass door. He deftly opened it so that a gust of snow-scented wind enveloped Petra. After a sweaty hour of dancing, it felt like paradise. Petra stepped outside, her heels a crunch on the light dusting of snow. Karl followed, closing the door. The party was loud behind them, but muffled, as if Petra had stopped her ears with a pillow. They'd stepped onto a terrace. To their right, a table and two chairs bore pristine domes of snow. To the left, a large brazier glowed with coals, which sent a shimmer of hot air into the night. Petra drew near, letting it warm her exposed back and shoulders. Her cup of punch steamed like an exhaled breath. Sipping, Petra let it settle in her stomach. Karl smiled beside her.
"So." Petra stopped. What should she say to this man? Her father had sold vegetables; aristocrats were far outside of her usual social circle.
"So. Tell me about yourself, Miss Ral." Karl turned, fully blocking her view of the secret glass door. "I want to know everything about you."
"Why are you so interested?" Petra tried to keep her voice playful, but it sounded flat to her ears.
"Does a man have to explain interest in a beautiful woman?" Karl's smile was all ease. "Especially one that's so brave?"
"So I'm interesting because I go outside the walls and face enormous, naked monsters?"
"That's one way of putting it. But the military isn't compulsory. You chose it, and in addition you chose the Survey Corps. In my experience, most of the soldiers who join the Corps are…fascinating individuals."
Petra thought of Squad Leader Hange and the way she lunged at titans as if they were overgrown puppies in need of a cuddle.
"That's sort of true," she admitted.
"But you're so lovely, so sweet. I've never before met a woman who's so utterly sensible yet throws herself into danger. As I've said, you're beautiful; a girl like you wouldn't need to join the military. You could easily find a man to take care of you."
Petra's jaw tightened. She didn't know what she disliked more: the belief that attractive women lived only to snag a man, or that unattractive ones' sole purpose was to become cannon fodder. "I don't think you understand women," she snapped.
Karl bowed his head.
"I've no doubt I'm ignorant. Please." His soothing voice never rose or hitched in self-defense. "Enlighten me."
She worried her bottom lip. Petra did not want to share her first memory of Captain Levi with anyone. The first time she'd seen him ride through the city gates, the tumbling feeling of elation, the giddiness that had sent her spinning through the streets. She had joined on his account, but not because she wanted to make him fall in love with her. To Petra, he was the pinnacle of what a man could be, and she'd wanted to become a person that such a man could admire.
Maybe not as a woman—he'd never want her—but as a soldier. To be someone brave and strong in his eyes, that was her goal.
"I was curious," she said at last. "And it pays well. I could send money home to my family." She stared into her punch. A moment passed in awkward silence.
"Have I offended you?" Karl asked softly.
Petra winced. Honestly, leave it to her to botch a romantic moment with a handsome, interested lord. "No. Sorry, I suppose I'm…I'm cold," she fumbled.
"Then let me warm you," he murmured. Karl moved in front of her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Petra realized how fragile she must feel; little did the lord know that she was aware of every tender, sensitive spot to kick on a man. Petra blinked. Why was she so jumpy?
"Th-thank you." She swallowed her punch, draining the cup in one go. She let Karl take it from her hands and place it on the balcony's railing. Then, he tipped her chin upwards with one finger. Petra's gaze met his. He was electrifyingly handsome.
"Does this feel good?" His hands slid down to her back. He pressed her against his body, and bent his head. His breath, warm with brandy, sweet with cherries, tickled her cheek.
"I." Petra's voice caught in her throat as Karl's lips trailed delicately across her cheekbone. He cupped the back of her neck as he lifted her, so that her toes barely touched the ground. His mouth moved to close over hers.
This was the culmination of every young woman's fantasy: to be kissed on a balcony by a lord. But Petra's being rebelled against it. It wasn't even the thought of the captain—Petra had taken lovers before, she knew how it felt to give her body while her heart belonged elsewhere. Choose the path you'll regret least, those had been the squad's words, drilled into them over and over with every swing of the blade or latch of the ODM hook. Petra knew somewhere at the center of her heart that she would regret this kiss more than she would its absence.
"No." She turned her lips from his, went rigid in his arms. Her hands pressed against his shoulders, and she shoved away from him. "Stop."
Karl released her. Petra turned for the door, but he blocked the way.
"I'm sorry if I've offended you." His tone was so neutral it was impossible to guess his thoughts.
"No, it's my fault." Maybe it wasn't, but apologies came automatically to Petra in circumstances like this. She winced. Too late to take it back. "I…I thought this was something I wanted. Besides, I'm needed inside."
But Karl did not move. "I don't think Captain Levi needs you right now."
Petra grew quite still. "How did you know I served the captain?"
"Oh, you told me on the floor." He raised an eyebrow.
"No. I didn't." She suddenly became hyperaware of everything around her—how far she would fall if she jumped over the balustrade, how high she would need to kick if Karl made a move. "You knew I was in the Survey Corps before you came to dance with me. Didn't you?"
"I admit I inquired about you. You're so delectable, how could I not?" His eyes, she noticed, appeared flat and glassy now.
"Then why play like you didn't know anything?"
"I didn't want to alarm you. Obviously."
"Well, now I'm alarmed and I want to go back inside."
"Of course. But I still want to know more about you, Miss Ral. I want to know all about your time working for Squad Levi. The captain must be a fascinating individual."
Why? Why would some rich young man in the interior corner her to find out about the captain? Petra shifted her weight, getting into fighting stance without drawing too much attention to the fact. Large skirts were good for one thing at least; he couldn't see what she was doing under her gown.
"I don't know anything about Captain Levi. He's very secretive," she muttered through clenched teeth. Karl had backed her away from the brazier, and she was starting to freeze. "Get. Out. Of my way."
And then he advanced upon her. Petra was ready to kick—
The door flung open, and Captain Levi bounded onto the terrace. The three of them stopped. Petra realized that she was pressed up against the balcony, one of Karl's arms around her. It had to look like they'd been caught in a furtive embrace.
Levi stood up straight, and yanked at his lapels to get himself into order. He glared at Karl, and then at Petra. She felt like she'd fallen into some surreal dream, halfway to a nightmare. Quickly, she left Karl and moved to stand beside her captain.
"Captain? Are you all right?"
"Squad meeting. Now." He looked from her to Karl and back again. "Think you can tear yourself away?"
"Yes," she answered at once, all but melting in relief. If he hadn't come right now, she would have been forced to physically defend herself against this young lord. A court martial might have waited for her at the end of it.
"Captain Levi?" Karl extended his hand. "I'm Karl Morgenstern. It's an honor to meet—"
"Thanks. Petra. Let's go." Brusque even for him. The captain stepped back into the ballroom, Petra right at his heels. She didn't even look at Karl as she followed. If all went well, that was the last she'd see of the man, tonight or ever. Instead, she turned her eyes to the captain. He parted the sea of people with remarkable ease, cutting through with her in his wake. Petra had to hurry to keep up; the captain's legs weren't long at all, but he was moving as fast as he could.
"Thank you for coming to find me," she said as she trotted alongside him, nearly upsetting a pair of girls as they took to the floor, hand in hand.
"I didn't come to find you. I was looking for you." Was there a difference? She didn't ask. "Thought you might've gone upstairs for some fun." He spoke hurriedly, his voice flat, his eyes duller and more hooded than usual. "Wouldn't that've been a thing to walk in on?"
"Captain, I wouldn't do that here." Petra felt stung, and flinched.
"Why not? Anyone with sense would. You two seemed to be getting friendly back there."
"No. No, we weren't." She all but spat the words out. "I need to tell you something, sir. He—"
"Oruo. Gunther." Levi stopped short, jerked his chin. The two men were standing alongside one another by the dessert table; Oruo had his mouth full of whipped cream, a plate in his hands.
"Yeh thir?" Oruo tried saluting with the plate. A dollop of cream splashed on his jacket.
"Clean that off. Then we have a squad meeting. Where the shit is Eld?"
"Dancing, sir." Gunther glanced at Petra, a question in his eyes. She shook her head. The chill from being outside—and what had happened—hadn't yet left her, and she rubbed her arms. "Captain, is something wrong?"
"I don't wanna repeat myself. Get out there and drag Eld away from his girl."
"Sir, can't we wait until the dance is done?" Gunther spoke levelly while Oruo frantically dabbed at his coat. "Katrina never gets to see him, after all."
"She can see all of him after we talk." Levi jerked his head. "Do you wanna make me do this myself, Gunther?"
"No, sir." Gunther left while Petra huddled beside Oruo. She couldn't understand why the captain seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze.
"Captain, that man on the balcony was asking about you. He wanted—"
"He wanted a couple things." Levi sniffed, crossed his arms.
"I didn't do anything. I—"
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Petra." Finally, his tone gentled a bit. He looked at her briefly, but her relief was pure and full. If he was looking at her, he wasn't angry. Gunther arrived with Eld, Katrina trailing after them. Petra gave her a brief, commiserating look before the four soldiers had to trudge single file behind Levi like a parade of ducklings following a surly mother. They wove through the crowd until they were in the hall, and soon after that they entered a parlor painted baby blue, one appointed with antique, claw-footed furniture. Oruo collapsed onto a chaise, frantically dabbing at his jacket. Eld stood before the captain, hands behind his back.
"Sir. What's wrong?" Eld asked.
Levi leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms. It was his habit in their briefings to slouch and fix them with a predatory glare, as if daring someone to challenge him. Gunther had once described it as an older lion appraising his cubs.
"Listen. I can't go into detail right now, because I don't have all the facts myself. But I need everyone on their guard tonight. Something's going on around here."
"Something like what, captain?" Eld voiced what they all were thinking, as usual. Oruo, meanwhile, had moved on to using his handkerchief and whimpering to Petra about how he needed some water for the stain. She elbowed him.
"Does it have something to do with Lord Karl, sir?" Petra asked. All the guys' eyes turned to her. Eld was frowning. "I was just on the balcony with him."
"That guy you were dancing with?" Oruo asked, sounding snappish. She rolled her eyes.
"Yes. Him. He wanted to know all about Captain Levi. He didn't explain why, but—"
"Thanks, Petra." The captain sounded genuine, but firm. "Look, this doesn't concern all of you. Just stay together, and try not to talk to any of these shit-nosed asskissers if you can help it."
"Is this something to do with Commander Smith?" Petra asked. If there were any intrigue happening, the Commander would have to be at the center of it.
"No. It's me. Look, I don't want to go into it because it's boring as fuck." Petra would bet money that wasn't true. The captain shrugged. "But it's my own problem. I don't want the four of you getting dragged into it."
Dragged into it. If Karl had been asking why she was on Levi's squad, then clearly the captain was his target. It made sense that he'd focus on one of them. After all, their squad spent more time with the captain than anyone else, except perhaps the Commander.
"So here's the deal. You all stay together in the ballroom. You don't leave, not even to take a shit."
"Sir, we can look after ourselves." Eld's mouth turned up at the corners; he was trying not to laugh with disbelief. "What are a couple of fancy lords next to titans?"
"I don't know what they are." The captain looked so deathly serious that Eld's smile faded. "All of this aristocracy shit is out of my experience. You're only truly covered—"
"When you know your weakest point," Petra finished. She felt herself flush as the captain looked to her, but the corner of his mouth lifted in that micro-smile of his.
"That's it. Good. You all remember the shit I teach you."
"When this is over, will you explain everything, Captain?" Eld, of all of them, seemed the most irritated, though he was attempting to hide it. Well, Petra imagined that he and Katrina had planned to find a spare bedroom at some point. This was going to get in their way.
"Do you want me to answer to you, Eld?" Levi paused, tracked his gaze to each of them in turn. Then, his shoulders relaxed by a degree. "I'll explain more. Maybe not all of it, but enough."
"You don't have to explain anything to us, sir." Oruo sneered at Eld, who rolled his eyes. "Your orders are good enough for me."
"You still have cream on your jacket," Petra muttered. Oruo's squeal was unnaturally high.
"Okay. Good meeting. Oh, one more thing," the captain said as they all rose to leave. He fixed his gaze on Petra. "Ral, you only dance with these three the rest of the night. You don't go anywhere without one of the guys."
Petra felt as if the floor had dropped away beneath her feet. "What?"
Gunther snorted in disbelief. Oruo perked up, and frowned.
"Captain, is that fair? Petra never gets to dance, after all."
"She can dance with the three of you, like I said. No one else."
"Oh. Well, that's all right, then." Oruo adopted a pompous look, one that he probably thought was a killer imitation of Levi. "We'll take good care of her, sir."
"What?" Petra tried to make sense of her clashing thoughts. "Captain, why am I the only one who needs to be looked after?"
The captain merely regarded her with those narrow, hooded eyes. Not a single muscle in his face so much as twitched, and he didn't say anything.
Petra felt as if she were being pitched to and fro in some kind of emotional maelstrom. The horror and the burning shame of being treated like a child in need of protection, mixed with the wild, exhilarating sensation of hope—that she was precious to the captain, that seeing her near another man had sent him into a fit of jealousy. Petra swallowed; she needed to navigate these next few minutes with all the guys on her squad watching as well. She walked around the chaise, picking over Oruo's stupid feet as she did so. Standing before the captain, Petra tried to read his expression, but she would have better luck with a weatherworn statue of old King Fritz.
"I…I know that you want to protect me," she began, but stopped when Levi snorted.
"I don't want to protect you, Petra. That's the point." His words were terse, his tone flat and edged in disappointment. "I want you to behave like a level-headed soldier, but I come back after one hour and some creep's got you cornered on a balcony with his arms around you."
"His arms were around you?" Oruo shot to his feet. Everyone ignored him.
Petra's vision rocked. She knew she'd be flushed by now; she always turned red when she got angry. Calm. She needed to remain calm. Yelling at the captain was not only a great way to be put on latrine duty for the next three months, it would also prove his point: that she was a foolish girl who needed looking after, whose emotions led her.
"With all due respect, sir. We were dancing, and then he invited me out for a drink. None of that is outrageous behavior at a party. When the situation started to turn, I was ready to leave. When you found us, I was about to kick him in the balls."
The three guys couldn't help snorting with laughter at that. Even the captain had to raise an eyebrow.
"That's a vivid picture."
Petra exhaled. "I don't need special treatment."
"This isn't personal, Petra. We're dealing with a bunch of manipulative assholes right now, and going after the youngest, smallest member of my squad makes logical sense to pricks like that. You're also the only female. That doesn't help."
"Then if you'd just tell me what to look out for, I could handle it myself." She was not going to shout. She was not going to shout.
"It's like I said." His eyes grew even duller. Sometimes, Petra wondered if the captain ever felt anything at all. "You're the youngest. You're just a kid. You know titans, but you don't know men. Not these types of men."
Petra felt as if he'd kicked her in the stomach. She feared she'd lose her balance. A kid. That's how he saw her; not a woman, not a soldier, but a kid. A child. It hurt to know that he did not see her as desirable, but it was agony to think that he viewed her as anything less than an exemplary soldier.
"Captain. This isn't fair." Eld stepped up beside Petra, practically bristling. "The three of us know as much about aristocratic life as Petra does. She doesn't need to be treated like this."
"You're right. It's not fair." The captain glared at Eld. "But if these last couple years should've taught you anything, it's that this world's fucking cruel. If these assholes are targeting my squad, Petra is the one they'll go after."
"Why are they targeting us at all?" Gunther asked.
"I told you. That's on a need to know basis right now. And frankly I'm getting fucking tired of having to explain myself to my subordinates. You do as I say."
"Technically, sir, we're off duty tonight." Gunther spoke so softly that Petra almost thought she'd imagined the words.
"Technically, yes. But ask yourselves if you want to disobey me right now."
The heavy silence in the room proved the captain's point. Levi cleared his throat, but Petra only stared at the carpet. The shame of it all. The embarrassment.
She wasn't one of the guys now, not a member of the squad. He'd singled her out as the weak link.
"I'll make it up to you, Petra." He sounded indulgent now. Paternal. She winced. "I have to look out for my squad. That's all this is."
"You're not my father." The words were out, harsh and biting, before she could stop them. Petra heard Oruo yelp. Wincing, she bowed her head. "Captain. I'm sorry, but—"
"You're right. I'm not your father. But he'd want me to keep you safe."
She pictured Papa shaking hands with the captain, the pair of them chortling over how delicate Petra was, the little angel. Fatherly. That was how Levi felt about her, if he felt anything at all. She was going to throw up soon, and then his only reaction would be at how unhygienic it was.
The captain continued. "I know you like these fancyass parties. I'm not saying you can't talk to anyone else. Look, I realize these are the kinds of places that girls meet men."
"She doesn't have to meet men if she doesn't want to," Oruo spat, before somehow tripping over a corner of the rug.
"All I mean is if you were looking for the future Mr. Ral here, no one'd blame you."
The captain had meant it as a joke, but Petra had finally had enough. Her gaze locked with his, his flat, gray eyes giving nothing away. Nothing, because he felt nothing.
"I'm not going to get married." She frowned. "I want to stay in the military, on your squad. I want to be there until I—"
"Until you what?" Finally, a change in that placid, expressionless face. Levi's thin browns furrowed. "Retire at a ripe old age? You want that life, you join the Garrison, not the Survey Corps."
"I don't understand. Do you mean you don't want me on your squad?"
"Wait. Wait." Gunther sidled up next to Petra, clearly sensing that the conversation was about to plunge into a wild ravine, one with dark crevasses from which they couldn't return.
"Of course I do, or I wouldn't have asked for you in the first place. But I'm looking at what the Corps needs for its next mission. What I need to put Erwin's plan into action. Do you all understand?" A darkness seemed to stretch across the captain's face, though he did not move a muscle. "I'm not looking out for your futures. You all need to make the choice you'll regret the least, but that shit's on you. Not my job."
"So you're saying that we're all just tools to you?" Petra forgot to add 'sir', but she was too violently angry to care.
"You're in the military. You chose this life because you wanted to serve humanity. Did you think that'd make you special?" He glanced at each of them in turn. "I'm fond of you all." He said it like someone'd punched him to get the words out. "I am. If I weren't, I wouldn't be saying this. If you want to roll the dice on dying, follow me. If you want a long, safe life, get married. Move to the country. Do whatever'll make you happy, but don't delude yourself you can have it all. Marriage, family, kids, my squad, a long, fulfilling life. You choose. That's it. That's what I mean."
"And you want me to choose marriage?" Petra asked.
"You're a kid, Ral. Like I said." His eyes flashed once. "You're emotional right now, which is why I'm not whipping your ass for forgetting to address me properly. You should probably start doing that, by the way. Friendly advice. But like I said—you're too young to know absolutely what you want. Keep your options open."
"Captain. Sir. So you want me to take care of myself, but you also want the others to take care of me? That makes no sense."
"Them taking care of you is taking care of the squad. Taking care of me. It makes perfect sense, Petra, and I'm tired of chatting with you all about this. I've got business with Erwin. So go back to the party, drink a little, dance a little, and stay away from the rich pricks. Think you all can manage that?"
"Sir. I want to go on record as saying that I don't agree with any of this." Eld's voice was measured but clipped. He squared his shoulders, and Petra wondered if he had deliberately straightened himself to loom over the captain. Eld, the second in command, the perfect golden boy; Petra wondered if the captain ever felt that this younger, taller, more charismatic man was nipping at his heels. Levi merely flicked his gaze upward.
"Noted. Doesn't change my mind."
Gunther put a hand on Petra's shoulder, while Oruo hovered behind her. Petra placed a hand to her cheek, felt how burning hot she was to the touch. She was on fire with shame. When Levi left the room, she signaled to the others to wait and went out after him. None of the guys followed. Closing the door behind her, Petra watched the captain's receding form. Throat dry, she called to him.
"Sir. Please."
"I'm done talking about this." He didn't turn around. "You want latrine duty, Petra? This is how you get it."
She knew that these would have to be her last words on the subject, the parting shot. Petra understood she wouldn't change the captain's mind, but she wanted to ascertain something. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.
"If this world's so cruel, why do you care at all?"
She wasn't sure those were the best words she could've come up with, but they were the best that sprang to mind in these few seconds. Slowly, the captain turned on his heel and approached her. Petra's heart sped as he stepped nearer. The scent of the forest, of snow, of white soap enveloped her as he approached. With her shoes, they were on perfect eye level. The captain was so close that she could read the tightening of his jaw. For the first time, his eyes appeared troubled.
Petra was so close to him now. She wanted to reach out and touch him, press her cheek to his. Whisper in his ear that even if he could never want her back, she would burn for him until she died. Such feelings were one key reason why she hadn't been able to fall under Karl Morgenstern's spell. When the captain had caught her tonight as she slipped on the carriage step, she'd felt how strong he was, the tickle of his fine black hair against her temple. How could she ever want to touch another man after such a brief, tantalizing experience?
"I care," Levi said, his voice hoarse, "because your death belongs to the Corps. Not to some lord in the interior."
"My death?" Petra shivered.
"Don't kid yourself, Petra. We're all waiting to die in this job. It's sort of like your fancy parties; some people dance right away, some wait for hours on the sidelines. But sooner or later, we all dance."
"You don't."
"Hey, you never know. Stranger things have happened." The captain nodded his head. "Go."
"So that's all you want from me, sir? To follow you until I die?"
They looked into one another's eyes, and Petra swore she saw a stillness in the captain she'd never glimpsed before. His gaze did not move from hers for several heartbeats.
"What else would I want from you?" he asked flatly.
Then he left her.