Alright, we're back to a weekly (ish) schedule again! But first, I want to take a moment to give an big warm thank you to everyone who has left reviews, follows and favorites on this story so far - especially reviews. You are all so kind and encouraging, and your words are the best motivating fuel I could ask for.
Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming...
CHAPTER TWELVE
SANCTUARY
May, 2506
Afternoon's warmth reached Inara through a prism of glass, through the windows that stretched to the vaulted ceiling of her father's parlor. The sun poured over the sheet music on the stand before her. It dripped down each taut string between her hands, making it appear as though she were plucking threads of light itself.
Inara broke with the correct posture, bending over the harp. The melody tugged her forward, head ducked against the gusts of rippling scales. She lifted up, as her fingers slowed at the upper register. The glisten of the highest pitches lingered in the air. Only once they evaporated did Inara begin the next section.
Usually, Madame Cheberell hovered over her, prompting Inara to curl her fingers more, to count, keep her shoulders even, you're getting ahead of the beat, Inara. But in that moment, she was alone with the music. The final chord, soft and stark, caught her by surprise.
The applause of her lone audience member jarred her. Inara opened her eyes.
"Beautiful, my dear." Her father sat close by, one elbow perched on the plush arm of his chair. He rested his chin on his hand. "Simply beautiful."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"You've prepared very well. You could take your performance exam tomorrow, if you wanted to."
Inara shook her head, with a small laugh. "Thank goodness I have two more weeks." She gathered her music from the stand, and stood up. "I should already be memorized."
"You are. You didn't look at a single note." Her father's eyes crinkled. "Have faith in yourself."
Inara dropped her eyes. Priestess Song had said something very similar a week earlier, before Inara gave a tour of the House to a group of prospective trainees, a task usually entrusted to the Priestess herself. "Each day I am more impressed by your understanding of this House, and of your place in it," Min had said afterwards, and Inara had flushed with pride.
Her father stood and held his arms out, to pull her into him. Inara let herself be enveloped. His warmth was dimmed by the stiff fabric of his suit.
"I'm sorry I've had so little time to give you lately," he murmured. "This session of Parliament has been… the most intense, and most frustrating, of my career. And it won't let up anytime soon, I'm afraid."
"It's alright." Inara rested her head on his shoulder. "You're doing important work."
"I only wish everyone would see it that way," he sighed into her hair. "Commander Vorman is coming to meet with me this afternoon, and I'm afraid you can't join us. I hate to shorten our time together, but I need this meeting." His words broke off in chips, urgent. "I need good people on my side. Brave people."
Inara pulled back, to look up at him. "For what?" she asked.
Something in him burned, raw and peeling at the edges, smudged into the thumbprints of insomnia below his eyes.
"To prepare for a new Universe, my xiǎo bǎo wù," he answered.
Inara bit her lip, eyes dropping to his lapel, which she straightened with hesitant fingers. "Bàba," she started. "I have something to tell you."
"Oh? What a coincidence. So do I." He gave her a nod. "You first."
"Well, first I should say I didn't mean to keep it a secret this long. But I didn't want to tell you until I was sure of it, and now… I think I'm sure."
Solomon's brow arched. "Tiān a. This sounds serious."
Inara took in a breath, and let it out. "Priestess Song is going to offer me the Apprenticeship, when I graduate. She's chosen me to succeed her."
Her father stood unmoving, eyes not quite level with hers. At last, he stepped back. A smile bent his lips. "Of course she did." He turned away. "I imagine she's tricked you into thinking you want this as much as she does."
Inara's mouth fell open. "I do want it. It's an honor to even be considered, and the opportunity to train with her would be-"
"Don't misinterpret what I'm saying." Solomon's eyes bore into hers. "You would make an excellent Priestess. But that's not why Min chose you."
"Then why?"
Her father sighed, and stepped toward the window. The sun poured over him, set him alight by the edges. "Min and I have a history you can't fully understand," he said, quiet. "It began a long time ago."
Inara swallowed. "You mean, when my mother…"
"This isn't about Kalindi." Solomon's voice struck like a match against stone, before quieting again. "I'm talking about Min. She tried to keep you from me, Inara. It was years before I could win visitation rights, so thick was the legal shell she constructed."
"What?" Inara knit her brow. "Why would-"
"She wanted you all to herself." His hand cut the air. "To raise you as her own, to mold and shape you in her likeness, and now that's exactly what she's doing. Your talent could make ripples across the Universe, but Min wants to keep you tucked away inside Madrassa. To spend your prime years doing paperwork and leading meditation sessions."
Heat prickled in the corners of Inara's eyes, up her throat. "I thought you would be proud."
"My darling, I am." He came close, to rest a hand on her shoulder. "I have been, all along. But you won't become everything you could be, if you consign yourself to the Priestesshood."
Inara ducked her eyes. Her father deflated, pushing air through his nose.
"Now I understand why she granted my request," he muttered. "She thinks she's already won."
"What request?"
"Min agreed to let me host your graduate celebration, in the week leading up to your final examination before the Guild." His voice rose. "It will be here, and mark my words, it'll be the most magnificent party Sihnon has ever seen. I'll make sure of it."
Inara's stomach pitched, as if to leave her body. "But- surely you have enough to worry about. You don't need to take this on, as well."
"I want to." He caught her hands in his, and gave them a squeeze. "You'll have the entrance into Society that you deserve, and you'll see the galaxy of possibilities that exist. Then you'll feel differently about sequestering yourself inside House Madrassa for the next 25 years of your life."
Inara cinched her mouth tight. "I thought you said I shouldn't leave Sihnon."
"Yes, and I stand by it. You won't need to." Her father's smile stretched thin, impatient. "I'll introduce you to influential people from all corners of the Core. You'll form your network now, then settle into an elite Companion establishment, and let the Universe come to you."
He crossed the room to the central table. He tapped the surface, to awaken the embedded holo-screen projector. "I already have a tentative schedule of entertainment for the first three nights…"
Inara's eyes widened. "The first three?"
"Yes, yes," he said, distracted, manipulating the holo-screen. "It'll last the entire week leading up to your ceremony. How else could I invite everyone you need to meet?"
Inara chewed her lip. She'd attended parties at her father's estate before. They were bright and extravagant works of art: choreographed, beautiful, but above all, insincere. It was impossible that a gathering of several hundred near-strangers could be anything else.
"Bàba." She took hold of his arm, making him stop and look at her. "A week-long society party is not what I imagined for my celebration." Her voice went light, careful. "Besides, I don't want to… take advantage of your position, for my own personal gain."
Her father made a short, harsh sound, not quite a laugh. "Inara. There is nothing wrong with a bit of networking. Let me show you what your future could be. You don't have to settle for a weighty title, in a career with no ladders to climb. That's not what you want, is it?"
Inara half-turned away. She crossed an arm over her chest, to grip her shoulder. It took a moment for her to calm her breath, measure it, in and out of her nose.
She couldn't answer him.
"I see your point," she said, with an almost-smile. "I'm sure the party will be wonderful. Thank you."
Her father's smile was solid and sure, as he drew close to her. "I'm glad that we agree." He lifted his hand, and tucked a curl behind her left ear. His fingers brushed over her golden earring, studded with the Alliance emblem. "You see, Inara, it's important to have faith in yourself. But you must also have faith in me."
"I do." The words fell soft, but heavy. Inara met her father's eyes, and leaned her cheek into his touch.
"Forgive me, darling." Solomon dropped his hand, and closed the holo-screen with a flick of his wrist. "I have to prepare for my meeting with the Commander." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Can you see yourself out?"
Inara nodded. But her father didn't see her, sweeping out of the room. She slipped her sheet music into her cross-body bag, and slung it over her chest. There was time yet, before she had to return to House Madrassa.
She made her escape, out from under the weight of marble and arched ceilings, toward the low wooden rafters of the barn.
/*/*\*\
Inara found him in the center aisle, bent over a saddle hung on a sawhorse, wiping down the leather with wax sealant. He'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing sun-freckled forearms. He straightened when she walked in, and used the back of his wrist to push his hair off his brow.
"Well, if it isn't Ambassador Serra." He smiled.
Inara took what felt like her first full breath of the day. "Hello, Mal."
"Easy wants to say hello, too." Mal nodded to the horse, who had stuck his huge black head over the door of his stall. "Provided you got a biscuit for him."
"Of course." Inara grinned.
The week before, they'd started a program to acclimatize Colossus to positive human interaction. Inara was an ideal candidate, as the horse seemed to like her better than most people.
"Where would I find this biscuit?"
"Oh, uh- Well." Mal looked down at his hands. Both were covered in sealant, slick and glistening. "I'd get one for you, but I'm a tad indisposed."
"I'm capable of fetching a biscuit."
Mal kept a straight face, motionless. "They're in my pockets."
"Oh." She hesitated, biting back a smirk. "Do you mind?"
"'Course not," he said, a bit too quickly. "Go 'head."
Inara sidled up next to him. He was taller up close, more substantial, with a natural warmth that poured off him like an aura. His eyes flicked to hers, then away. A muscle pulled taut in his neck, when she slipped her hand into his pocket. Inara tried not to notice the hitch in his breath, as she dug a moment, before pulling out a biscuit.
She crossed the aisle to Colossus' stall, and forced her own breath to return to normal. The biscuit balanced in the valley of her palm. She flattened her hand, offering it to the horse.
"Hold it lower."
Inara gave a little jump. She looked over to find Mal watching her. He nodded, encouraging. "You wanna make him bend his head to get it."
Inara turned back to Colossus, and offered the treat again, per Mal's instruction. "This is for you, Easy."
The horse demurred. Inara modulated her voice into the most soothing tone she knew. "This is for you, because you're a very pretty boy, and you're learning how to be friendly, so you can live up to your nickname."
Colossus decided he valued the biscuit more than his pride, and dipped his head to take it from Inara's palm. She smiled at the tickle of his whiskery lips.
"Nicely done," said Mal. "You oughta forget politics, and consider a veterinary career. You have the touch."
At the mention of careers, Inara's conversation with her father came flooding back to her. "Thank you," she said, quiet.
"Alright." Mal planted his hands on the seat of the saddle and fixed his eyes in hers. "Somethin's wrong."
Inara went to shake her head, then stopped. She let her shoulders fall. "How could you tell?"
Mal raised an eyebrow. "'Cause you just said 'thank you,' insteada givin' me some smart, condescending response."
"Well, I-" Inara cut short. She frowned. "Condescending? When have I ever been condescending?"
Mal laughed. "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I have to guess?"
Inara took the tall stool down from its hook on the wall, and pulled it over to the sawhorse, sitting down. "It's just… a difference of opinion. Between me and my father."
"Yeah?" Mal went back to rubbing sealant into the saddle. "What about?"
Inara stalled, as she took off her bag, and let it drop to the ground. She watched Mal work for a moment. His question hung in the air between them.
"I'm graduating in October," she said at last.
He betrayed no reaction. Not a flicker.
Inara bit her lip. "Anyway. My father's decided he's going to host my celebration. And I don't want him to."
"Why not?"
"For one thing, it breaks with tradition. At Ma- that is, at my diplomacy academy, the graduate celebration is always in the same place, at the school. Only the graduate's instructors, family, and closest friends are invited. It's small, and intimate."
Mal curled one side of his mouth. "'Lemme guess. The Councilor doesn't do small."
"It's going to last a week. Feasts and entertainment and dancing for seven nights straight. And the whole purpose is to- to parade myself in front of the most powerful people in the Core. To make connections, and advance my career."
"Already?" Mal's brow crunched. "You ain't even started yet."
"I'd prefer my celebration to be quiet, and personal." Her voice thickened, filling her throat. "But my father has other ideas."
Mal frowned. "Why don'tcha just tell him 'no?'"
"I tried. He's very insistent about what he wants." Inara looked down at her lap. "I learned a long time ago to pick my battles."
"This sounds like a battle worth fightin' to me."
"He won't listen. He- he's very… difficult to argue with."
Mal chuckled under his breath.
"What's so funny?"
"You." He smirked. "You're so buttoned up and polite, perched on top of that stool, tellin' me your father is 'difficult to argue with.' He ain't down here, is he?" Mal tossed out a hand. "You're mad at him. I can tell. So say it, say what you really feel. Forget about bein' diplomatic, for two minutes."
"I…" Inara struggled for words. She crossed her arms. "I am not buttoned up."
He shrugged his eyebrows. "Then prove it, Coreworlder."
Inara's mouth pinched. "My father-" She hesitated. "He's just a lǎo wán gù."
Mal laughed again, louder this time, bending over the sawhorse. "Oh Lord above, that was cute." He lifted back up, eyes aglow.
"Now who's being condescending?" Inara snapped, tamping down the flutter in her chest.
"Come on." He turned toward her, resting a hand on the horn of the saddle. "You can do better than that."
Inara narrowed her eyes at him. "My father is big ègùn and I wish he'd stay out of my life."
Mal scoffed. "Don't believe you."
"Guān wǒ pì shì whether you believe me or not." Suddenly, Inara didn't have to put any volume into her voice, it was already there, pushing itself out of her in a rush. She got to her feet. "I'm so fed up with him, with everything, I could- I could scream."
Mal's mouth twitched against a smile. "He's a real hùnzhàng."
Inara's eyes flew wide. "Mal!" she burst, breathless.
"Go on." He gave an upward nod. "Say it."
"Hùnzhàng." She could barely make herself whisper it.
His eyes sparked. "Louder."
Inara made fists, and threw the word like a stone. "Hùnzhàng!"
He grinned. "Wǒ niǎo tā de," he spat, with relish.
"Wǒ niǎo tā de." Inara grinned back. She'd never even dared to think language like this before, and it inflated in her chest, buoyant and full. "Wǒ niǎo tā de!" That time, she tossed it downwards, and kicked the ground.
They stared at each other a moment, Inara's breath falling heavy through her mouth. Then they both started laughing at once. Inara collapsed back against the stool, helpless. It took a few minutes before they could meet each other's eyes without giggling.
"I got an idea," said Mal, when he could speak. "Since I can't afford your etiquette lessons, maybe we could do a trade." His smile was nothing short of devious. "You teach me how to curtsy, I teach you how to curse."
The remains of laughter pressed at the corners of Inara's mouth. She shook her head. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have much opportunity to practice."
"But you feel better now, right?"
"Yes." She took a deep, even breath. "Oddly enough, I do. Thank you," she added. "Not for the cursing, just for… listening."
He tipped her a mock salute. "Ever at your service, Ambassador."
Her smile wavered, and fell. Mal didn't notice, already back to his work. Inara gathered her bag from the floor, and shrugged it over her shoulder, before she turned around.
"I wish you wouldn't say things like that."
He looked up at her.
Inara kept going, before she lost her nerve. "It makes me feel like you're only talking to me because you have to. As though you're under orders."
"That's nonsense," Mal scoffed. "Who'd order me to talk to you?"
"I didn't say it made sense. It's just- oh, never mind."
"No." He met her eyes. "I will mind. I'm sorry."
"It's alright." Inara looked away, overcome by the sheer blueness of his gaze. "I… I'd better go."
"Yeah, better go wash your mouth with soap."
She stuck out her tongue at him.
He chuckled. "See you around, Inara."
"Bye, Mal."
Inara left the barn with none of her problems any closer to being solved. Yet somehow she was lighter and warmer, and ever more discomposed, than when she'd come.
translations:
xiǎo bǎo wù - little treasured one
lǎo wán gù - arrogant old man
ègùn - bully, villain
Guān wǒ pì shì - "I don't give a sh*t"
hùnzhàng - f*cker, bastard
Wǒ niǎo tā de - "Screw him," "F*ck him"
Aaaand there you have it, folks. The last glimmer of happiness before the go se hits the fan, as they say. I do hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.
I am so so eager to post the next chapter, but before that happens, I'd be thrilled to hear your thoughts on this one! Constructive criticism always welcomed. By the way, Inara's graduate celebration? You can bet that will be important later on. Please feel free to share any predictions/suspicions on that score. ;)
Hope to see you all in not-so-lucky Chapter 13!