Year 850
It was shockingly easy to strike a human skull. Nothing at all like dragging a sword through a Titan's thick skin. Katrine lowered her arm, grip loose on the candlestick, and exhaled. The swirl of hatred that had stormed in her chest for years finally calmed. But blood started to bubble from his wound and panic raged up in its place.
"Fuck!"
Mila snapped from her shock and jumped back, knocking a book to the floor. "Is he dead? He's dead! You killed him!"
Katrine rushed forward and pressed two fingers to Isaac's neck. No, Lucian, that old name turned her mouth sour. He must have changed it—or was Lucian his last name the whole time? Of course, many patrons were still alive, but they were supposed to remain in Mitras, their hunting ground! She felt a weak pulse. "He's alive! We need to get him out of here before someone catches us."
Mila pointed a shaking finger at Lucian. "Was this part of the plan? Why didn't you tell me?"
"No! Does this look like a plan?" She had an unconscious body, a nearly hysterical Mila, and her own torrent of fury and fear blocking her ability to think. She slapped her forehead.
"But what did he do?"
"Not now! Please! We need to get him out!" Her quivering voice rose. Calm down, dammit!
Mila straightened, now focused. "The laundry cart's outside. But where?"
"To headquarters. He can't stay here."
Mila nodded and opened the window. After checking the courtyard, she slipped outside.
Katrine turned back to Lucian. He hadn't shifted. She pressed her fingers to his neck again, biting against her repulsion. He was alive, and she was shamefully relieved. But it was better this way, so he could answer her questions. She grabbed his cloak and braced her shoulders, ready to drag him to the window, and pulled. He didn't budge. She gritted her teeth and tried again, but still nothing. Swearing under her breath, Katrine berated herself for still being so weak and the Cult for fattening up a man who deserved nothing but bones picked over by vultures.
Mila crawled back through the window. "No one's outside."
"Good, help me move him." Katrine pointed to his shoulders and moved to his legs. Mila bent and grasped the fabric, and with barely any assistance dragged him to the window. Thank you, Mila, thank you, I owe you. Lucian remained unconscious. Had there been a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, when she said his old name? She hadn't noticed.
The two hoisted Lucian's body out the window and into the cart, covering his body with a forgotten bedsheet. The sky had darkened and a light drizzle fell into her palms. Katrine made sure her head was still covered and motioned for Mila to do the same, and they started back for headquarters. The streets were deserted and slick with rain.
"Why did you hit him?" Mila hissed.
"Not now," Katrine whispered, panting.
"Tell me! Don't you trust me?"
"I do!" Her voice cracked. "But I can't!"
"Later! Promise me!" Mila turned from checking alleyways to face her. There was fear in her eyes that she didn't deserve and Katrine looked back at the lump under the bedsheet to remind herself of her mission.
"Yes, I promise!" She didn't think she could, but that was unimportant at the moment. Right now she had to get Lucian alone.
They sneaked into the compound through the back entrance, stopping in shadows to avoid the occasional Scout until they reached the stairs to the supply building's basement. It was a damp, moldy room, one that always leaked when it rained and held broken tools that some hoarder determined might be useful someday. After making sure no one was watching, Katrine and Mila lifted Lucian out of the cart and dragged him down the steps and through the door, depositing him on the cold concrete. The air was metallic and choking. Combined with her pounding heart, Katrine felt dizzy.
She turned to Mila, who stared warily at Lucian. "You have to get out of here. Take the cart."
"But I can help you."
"Look…" Katrine wrung her hands. "It's not safe for you here."
"What are you doing, Katrine? Why are you acting so weird? You can't almost kill a priest and not explain it to me." Mila's words were measured but Katrine felt the concern behind them. Her voice echoed off the walls and Katrine's eyes darted to Lucian to see if he'd moved. She didn't want him to wake and put his hands around Mila's neck, too. She couldn't know. Nobody could know.
"You have to trust me. Please." There was a humiliating quiver she couldn't hide. Needles stung behind her eyes and she bit her tongue to keep herself from crying. Not here, when somebody was watching.
Mila was silent, biting her thumbnail. Her brow furrowed. Katrine's teeth chattered, the wait agonizing. She moved to grab at her hair and remembered it was still piled atop her head.
"Fine," Mila said slowly, like she hadn't quite made up her mind.
"I'll explain later. I promise. But don't tell anyone," Katrine said in a rush.
Mila nodded, and with one last glance at Lucian, turned and left, closing the door behind her. Now she was alone with the murderer.
Watching Lucian in the dim light of a dusty window, she tossed off her cloak. After searching the junk for something to bind him, she tied his wrists with a rat-bitten rope. He didn't stir, though he still had a faint pulse and regular breathing. With nothing left to do, Katrine sat on the floor and pulled out her knife.
There were so many ways to kill him. Quickly, with a slash to the throat, or slowly, flaying off slivers of skin one at a time. He owed more than a pound of flesh, more than a gallon of blood. She could even strangle him herself, garrot him, leave her mark on his neck. His blood would drench her skin, the way it did after she slashed into Titans and watched their bodies fall to the ground, where she felt powerful and unstoppable and allowed herself to slip into the fantasy where she did the same to him.
She could start whenever she wanted. If she stuffed a rag in his mouth, who would hear? But her legs were leaden. She jabbed the point of the blade into her knee, sending a jolt of pain and a drop of blood down her leg. I'll kill him later. After he answers my questions.
Lucian's breathing was too even, too relaxed. He should be terrified. He should have been trembling in fear, anticipating the moment when someone would pin him down and tear at his clothes. She should rip that sanctimonious white tunic off him, ask him how easy it was to kill someone. It had to be, as effortless as sweeping her arms up and into the spotlight. Now there really were blades exploding out her wings.
He suddenly groaned and she sprang to her feet. His eyelids fluttered, then cracked open, and after he struggled for a moment against the rope, he moaned again.
"Wha—" He coughed, a trail of spittle hanging from his lips. "What...do you want?"
Katrine didn't answer. She didn't move.
"Please!" He hoisted himself up to a sitting position. There was a pathetic red mark on the side of his face from the cement. "I'll pay you. Whatever you want."
The irony almost made her laugh out loud. "Don't want it. Do you remember me?"
Lucian squinted, then slowly shook his head.
She scowled. He should have known. But she wasn't the important one. "It's not about me. This is about Victoria Radfield."
His skin, already wan, paled further.
"You killed her. Don't deny it, I was there. I saw what you did."
Lucian nodded, his lower lip trembling. What the fuck does he have to be upset about? Her grip around the knife tightened and she pointed it at him. "I'm going to kill you."
His eyes rolled upwards, white and glassy. "Yes, Sina, you told me…" he croaked. "My repentance would come…"
"You're not talking to your Walls! You're talking to me!" she screeched. Calm, calm, be calm. She was taught to be calm at both the Company and the training corps and she still couldn't do it.
"My penance! My sins!" Tears dripped down his mottled cheeks as he shifted to his knees. "Fasting and flogging every anniversary! For my indulgences in the passions of the flesh and my wrath—"
"Shut up!" What was he blabbering about? Every anniversary? He wasn't allowed to memorialize Victoria like Katrine did, see her turning corners in the marketplace and melting into shadows, resist falling asleep at night or risk being woken up by dreams of bloody hands and bruised necks. She didn't need the knotted ropes priests used to flagellate themselves. She could do that all in her head.
"If this is where they have decided I meet my end, I accept it. I have been a pestilence on this earth for far too long. Glory to Maria, to Rose, to Sina…" Eyes squeezed shut, Lucian muttered an incantation, lips rapidly forming the words.
Katrine lunged for him and pressed the knife to his throat. "Say her name. It'll be the last thing you say before you die. Now!"
His eyes snapped open. There was no fear in them, the same dull hazel eyes that stared not at her but beyond her. But instead of flat death, there was only acceptance and a few tears leaking into the deep creases at the corners.
"Victoria Radfield. Forgive me," he said in a clear voice.
She tried to move her arm forward to slice his neck. But it wouldn't respond. Do it! her mind screamed, but her hand only trembled. The knife shook against Lucian's neck, causing the little hairs to stand up, but no blood oozed out his pale skin. She stepped back, panting. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and she stumbled a bit, woozy.
What is wrong with you, Katrine demanded of herself. But what was going to happen if she killed him? The priests could find out it was her, hunt her down, and trap her in a cage so tiny they'd have to break her legs to fit her inside, and then what would they do? Her mind whirred and a group of men materialized behind Lucian, all in the same white tunic but with the faces of patrons she'd tried to banish but came screaming back up in her nightmares, their fingers probing her flesh and pulling her hair and jamming inside her mouth and between her legs. She grasped the knife so tightly her knuckles were white and stinging.
"You're not real," she tried to say but the words remained trapped in her throat. Lucian didn't react. He'd shut his eyes again and gone back to his whispered prayers.
You're a coward, and the only person you'll ever kill is Victoria. Mr. Kaiser's voice floated over the apparitions of the patrons, standing behind them with his cane in his hand.
"I am not," she insisted, and Lucian stopped.
The door slammed open and Katrine yelped. The knife clattered to the floor.
"What the hell is this?" The shadows obscured his face but Katrine knew that scathing voice. Shit, shit, shit! Why was Levi there in all her most humiliating moments? She'd thought it couldn't get any worse, but she'd been wrong, again.
"Get out! This doesn't concern you." Katrine tried to sound authoritative but her voice shook as she bent to retrieve the knife.
Levi stepped into the light and she couldn't bear to look at his face and see just how appalled he was. "It does, actually, because did you even think about where you've brought this priest?"
Her chest flared. He was right, it was stupid to bring Lucian to a Scouts compound. But that didn't matter, he'd been unconscious. He couldn't possibly know where he was. "It's under control."
"Doesn't look like it."
"Please, sir!" Lucian cried. "I beg of you!"
Levi leveled him with a withering look and Lucian immediately clammed up. Katrine ground her teeth. No one was ever that intimidated by her, even with a weapon in her hand.
"So, now, what exactly did he do to make you think he deserved to be kidnapped?" He used that same tone of voice when he thought she'd done a sloppy job cleaning, or when she said something he found especially stupid, that belittling tone that made her feel like an insect. She simultaneously wanted to throw her knife at him and hide in one of the rotten crates.
"It's for questioning. Or have you forgotten already why we went to Stohess?"
Lucian let out a small gasp of understanding and Katrine's stomach sank. It was clear enough evidence of her mistake, ignoring Levi's icy stare. She dragged the contents of the letter back into her mind to regain the upper hand.
"What does the Cult mean by 'experiments?'" she asked Lucian.
"I— I don't know—"
"'The repair of the Wall was a perfect time to test the effectiveness of the hardening solution, which exceeded expectations thanks to the tireless research of Father Lucian!' What are you studying, Father?"
His face blanched when she quoted the Cult's words back at him, but he quickly shook his head. "Only the damage done to the Wall by the Titan—"
"'Of the subjects gathered, four tested well, though regrettably the remaining twelve' — who are the twelve, Lucian?" Her voice strengthened.
Lucian's eyes dropped to the ground. "Little saints, returned to Sina—"
"Stop the bullshit, if you don't tell me your holy Walls won't be able to save you!" If Lucian was involved, it was too possible that this twelve consisted of twelve people, twelve girls, twelve Victorias.
Levi stepped forward and Katrine twitched at the abrupt movement. "This is pointless! What's your plan here?"
She waved the knife in Lucian's direction. "He's a murderer, and now he's going to pay his debt. That's the plan." She thrust the knife under Lucian's nose. "Who'd you kill? Tell him!"
"Victoria Radfield!"
"And you killed those twelve, too!"
Lucian began sniveling. "Those innocent little children…" Fat tears dripped onto the cement.
Katrine turned to Levi with an outstretched hand to indicate that yes, this was the right thing to do, but her confidence faltered when she saw that his expression had changed. His eyes shifted to Lucian, and then back to her, but they were clouded over as if he was lost in a distant memory. It was like he'd read everything that had happened on her face and could see her weeping over Victoria's stony hand. Suddenly she was naked and shivering again. But his eyes cleared and reverted back to scorn just as quickly.
"You think killing him will make it better?" His voice was quiet.
"Of course! It can't make it any worse."
Levi barked out a laugh. It was an ugly sound, cruel and mirthless. "It can," he said, and she stepped back. "Much worse."
How did he know? She'd heard the rumors but confronted with the hard reality of it, Katrine's skin turned prickly. What could possibly be worse? Her hands, stained with real blood? Lucian's ghost trailing her like Victoria's? She'd be a murderer, just like him, and what if someone worse caught her and strung her up by her neck before she'd even found that better place outside the Walls? Her stomach roiled. The rage she'd cared for over the years, tended to like a blaze, was drenched by her cold fear until there was nothing left but dead coals. No matter how she tried to stoke it, remembering Victoria's broken body and bruised neck, the ashes were as cold as the blade of her unused knife.
"So, Katrine, what's it going to be?"
She tried to grasp at her anger again but it vanished like smoke. "I'm thinking."
"You've been standing here this whole time and you haven't figured it out?"
"Shut up! Let me think!" Lucian whimpered under the threat of her knife. He thinks I'm weak, she realized. Her head throbbed. The little silver mirror in her pocket weighed a thousand pounds.
"How long's this going to take you?"
"Fuck off, Levi!"
Lucian cried out. "Please! In Mitras—"
"Shut up!" Her arm slashed across his face, a streak of red blooming at his right eye. Blood splattered across her face and burned her eyes. She shrieked, stumbling backward, and the knife dropped to the floor as she slapped her hands over her mouth. Hot metal burned her lips.
Lucian collapsed, howling and writhing in pain. Katrine's body turned numb when she realized she'd screwed up, badly, and that she really was a pathetic failure, a yellow-bellied coward. Levi knew that before she did. Mr. Kaiser was right, she really was a broken thing waiting for someone to step on her, and Victoria would agree—
Levi's hand darted out and seized her arm; she hadn't noticed him move closer. She gasped so hard it almost tore her throat in half. It felt like she'd singed herself touching a pot over a fire, or more like it had reared up and grabbed her.
"Hey! You—"
"Don't touch me!" She tore her arm out of his grasp and sprinted out the door and up the stairs into the cold rain.
As he dragged the priest to the other side of Trost, eyes sweeping the streets and his body settling into its old habits, Levi couldn't remember quite how long it'd been since he'd cleaned up a mess like this.
He'd torn off part of Lucian's tunic and wrapped it around the wound, tying another rag around his mouth to muffle the moaning, and hoisted him up and out of the basement. The courtyard was empty, the only light from the moon and its weak reflection in black puddles. Katrine's subordinate had vanished. He'd jumped her as she stood outside the stairwell biting her fingernails, accosting her with questions about why they'd dragged something that looked suspiciously like a body to the basement. She'd made a valiant effort but wilted under his threats, despite the fact that she was a head taller.
Levi had considered killing Lucian. That way nothing would get out about Katrine's misadventure. But then there would be a dead Cult priest, and who knew if Katrine kept her head down during her mission. He imagined her blowing into the church, tossing goblets to her subordinate and reading the priests' letters aloud, laughing all the while. He rolled his eyes. Better to set this straight himself. Also, it seemed wrong to eat someone else's prey.
He grimaced as the rain splattered onto his forehead and he forced Lucian to hobble faster. What a shitshow. This was so clearly unplanned, a lucky coincidence. But the expression that crossed her face was all too familiar. He'd seen it many times in the Underground, the dark shadow of loathing and despair that could only be chased away by revenge, by claiming an eye for an eye and something extra just to prove you could. This was something she'd been dreaming of for years. She'd probably imagined it happening much differently, though.
Once they were a sufficient distance away from the compound, Levi threw the priest to the ground. Lucian fell into a puddle, splashing Levi's boots, and his nose twitched. "Your wallet. Give it to me."
Lucian reached a trembling hand inside his bloodstained gown and threw out a sack of coins. It clinked across the cobblestones and Levi instinctively calculated its weight.
"This," he said, bending to pick up the pouch, "was a robbery. Unfortunately, you were a very appealing target. Things have gotten desperate around here." It was a little heavier than he'd thought. Maybe he was losing his touch.
Lucian bobbed his head. Levi's shoulders relaxed. Pathetic. The last one back at Grand Boulevard had played dead and then slashed at his throat with a ten-inch blade. It was a miracle the priest hadn't pissed himself yet.
"If you talk, I will hear about it, and then I'll kill you. And unlike her, I keep my word."
Lucian nodded.
"Go," Levi said, waving his hand.
The priest remained motionless, his eyes wide. "Thank you," he croaked.
"Go," he repeated in a sharper tone, and the man scrambled to his feet and dashed away. Strange, being thanked for not becoming a monster and only robbing him. Or was it for not letting Katrine kill him? No, he hadn't done anything. There hadn't been any need. But she'd made enough mistakes that she was lucky the priest was too chickenshit to bolt. That rope was so rotten that he could have easily broken free. And between his sobbing and her screeching was unbelievable no one had come running.
Once Lucian was out of sight Levi turned back. The rain had soaked through his shirt and he shivered. Luckily he hadn't been wearing his Scouts jacket, and neither had she, so hopefully Lucian had no idea who'd kidnapped him. Stupid of her to bring him to the Scouts compound. Another rookie mistake. He reached around and touched the hilt of her knife at his belt, cleaned of blood and just as sharp as the day he'd given it away. He'd forgotten her face but never that knife, and occasionally the unanswered question of why he'd been so quick to hand it over floated through his mind. Kenny had always said the first slash should kill. He'd be disappointed his knife was used in such a failure.
Levi was thoroughly chilled by the time he reached the compound, thinking of all the ways he was going to chew her out. Whatever her revenge was, it didn't matter. She'd endangered them all with her stupidity. And what could a priest have done to deserve such rage?
First came her room, door ajar and belongings strewn across the floor, but empty. He checked under the bed, too, just in case. Then came the closet on the third floor, the empty one no one used because the door always stuck. He was itching to fix it, but there were higher priorities.
He climbed the stairs to the flat-top roof and wondered if he'd have to walk all the way out past the gate and into the woods where the training platforms were. He really didn't want to do that, because that meant admitting he knew there was a reason to go there.
Levi pushed open the door and scanned the roof. Empty. Katrine was too good at making herself scarce when she could have been strengthening her sword arm.
Just then there was a noise, a little cough or a sniffle. Caught. But a small weak part of him thought that she wasn't meant to be found, the part of him that didn't want to throw a knife at a rat when Kenny ordered or kick a boy in the teeth because he had the curse of turning himself into a Titan. But, he was used to ignoring it.
He stepped around the chimney. There she was, resting her forearms on the railing and grinding the toe of her boot into the concrete. She didn't turn, oblivious to his presence, staring into the darkness at something he couldn't see. He realized she wasn't resting her forearms on the railing, but rapping them, hard enough that it made a noise.
"Katrine."
She jumped a foot in the air, snapping her head around, her shoulders tensing and fingers curling into claws. "What?" Her voice was choked. Damp strands of hair were plastered to her forehead, cracks in her lifeless skin. Her eyes, wide and rimmed with red, held the same spooked expression he'd seen back in that abandoned village, the one he'd forgotten because it seemed so unnatural on her. But this was worse, so much worse, and his guilt came flooding back though he had no idea what he was supposed to feel guilty for.
"Dropped him by the gate. Told him it was a mugging gone wrong."
She nodded stiffly. Angry red welts crisscrossed her arms.
"Thought you'd want this," he said, holding up the sack of coins. Stupid! Why would she want this now?
Katrine snatched the purse out of his hand and tore it open. She poured the coins into her hand and scowled as if she were angry that it held more than she expected. After a small shake of her head, she pocketed the coins and hoisted herself on the railing to hurl the pouch into the darkness.
He folded his arms and waited for her explanation.
"Stop looking at me like that," she snapped.
Levi sighed and leaned against the railing, cold metal pressing into his back. He set his gaze forward, counting the bricks on the chimney but watching her in his periphery.
"You're still looking at me."
"Quit being cagey. What'd he do?"
"Nothing."
"You don't kill someone over nothing," he lied.
She didn't answer and went back to tapping her forearms on the railing. It was like she was trying to snap her wrists. The sound was burrowing itself into his brain and setting his teeth on edge.
"Stop doing that." He extended his hand but before he could touch her she leaped back again, fear running wild in her eyes. One hand flew up to shield her face while the other grasped the railing as if she would rather throw herself off the roof than let him touch her.
"Katrine—"
"Do you really want to know? Do you?" she shouted, her voice slicing through his skin. "That man, that monster, killed Victoria because she wouldn't let him fuck her!" He saw her teeth flash, an animal ensnared in a trap ready to tear off its leg. "Don't tell me you can't kill someone over nothing because all of those men could and they act like it never even happened!"
He opened his mouth despite having nothing to say, but she was unstoppable.
"You know what it's like? It's like someone came down to my shitty little hole and told me that I'd been invited to the most beautiful banquet. Only for the elite. Me, that dirty little runt in the mud? But they said I was special, I was important!" She jabbed a finger at her chest, voice turning saccharine. "And then they whisk me away and I spend years getting ready, years making myself perfect. But you know what I find out when I finally get there?" She didn't stop for an answer. "It's me! I'm the food! They stuck me on a plate so they could rip my skin off and tear my limbs out and get their fill of me, and then they spit me out the floor like I never even existed! And then I had to put myself back together and do it all over again!"
Every word she spoke was true. Levi knew. He understood what she'd been without her saying the horrible word. They'd done the same to his mother, eating away at her flesh until there was nothing left but dry skin and brittle bones. She'd told him they were her guests, men who were to never lay eyes upon him, and she tucked him away in her armoire when they came and he heard them make her laugh and scream and cry.
He realized she'd stopped speaking and was shuddering like a desperate leaf clinging to a dead branch and he had to say something, but what was he supposed to say?
"But you had the knife." She had done something, she'd tried. It was the only thing that came to mind. But then her face crumpled and he immediately wanted to bite his tongue off. Stupid, again.
"I didn't use it, because I'm not like you! I'm just a coward! I told Victoria to fight back even though I was too afraid, and that's why she died! It's like I strangled her with my own two hands!" She swiped at her blotchy face and took a breath that made it sound like she was drowning. He'd never actually seen her cry, not when an errant grapple sliced her cheek in a training exercise, not when Titans cleaved soldiers in half right in front of her, not when he'd banished her to Utopia. The spotless Katrine that shrugged off the dirt and stench of the Underground, the one he watched for hours trying to understand how she did it, was gone and replaced by a scraggly, shivering creature. It was all wrong. His chest creaked like the air had abruptly turned frosty.
"And then I ran away and left them all behind because not only am I a coward, I'm selfish, too! I couldn't kill him because I don't want to be the same as him! Don't tell me that's not selfish." She laughed humorlessly. "And what would the Cult do if they found out it was me? I couldn't do it." Her arms dropped to her sides. The rage had withered away and she looked like she could collapse if he said the wrong thing. He didn't know who Victoria was, what went on in Mitras behind closed doors, but he didn't need to know. She'd traded one monster for another.
"So that's why you left?"
Katrine shrugged, attempting to be indifferent, but it was too forced to fool him. "It was a long time ago."
"I'm...sorry." He was painfully aware of how small and ineffective his words were.
She shook her head once, sharply. "You had it worse."
"You—"
"Don't argue with me! You had it worse!"
Levi didn't think suffering was something that could be measured out and compared. But it was clear by her folded arms and bitten lips that she was not going to elaborate further, and while he also had no intentions of explaining his own past, he wondered what she assumed made his so much more unbearable. She never spoke of Mitras and gave trite answers when anyone pried, so he had to go off of rumors, too. She claimed she'd never dance again, that the entire thing was artificial and forced, but he knew that was untrue yet would say nothing to avoid being caught.
"It's easier than you think," he said. "To kill someone. But you can never wash it off."
She looked down, digging her nails into her arms. "What did you mean? That it can make it worse?"
Levi had killed the man who owned his mother's brothel. It was a similarly lucky coincidence; he'd had the misfortune of swindling someone who could afford to pay Levi to dole out his punishment. He'd slit the man's throat and for one perfect moment, everything was alright. But then the man collapsed with no recognition in his eyes and it was all the same again except there was one less unfortunate soul in the world and there was blood staining his clothes because he'd been emotional and sloppy. His mother hadn't come back. Kenny hadn't either. He couldn't tell Katrine that, though. No one could know.
"You can't take it back afterward." A shattered teacup could not hold liquid again, cruel words could not be unspoken, and some wounds could not be staunched. "And they like to follow you around."
She scoffed weakly. "Even people you don't kill do that."
They fell silent, the only noise the light patter of rain hitting the concrete. Katrine shuffled to the brick chimney and leaned against it, pulling her hair out of the ratty mass atop her head. It fell down over her shoulder, surrounding her like a shield. There. There was the girl he'd found that night in Mitras, tired shadows staining her face. It was the same look that haunted everyone who lived Underground, shackled by their exhaustion and fear. Somehow she'd tricked him into thinking it was gone, that she'd never carried those chains in the first place.
"Why was the priest talking about Mitras?" Levi asked.
Katrine shuddered, and the fingers running through her hair froze. "Not going to Mitras," she muttered. For a moment Levi pictured locking the gates of Mitras shut and razing it to the ground. It couldn't be that much of a loss.
"Did he say anything else?"
She shook her head. It was possible the priest had said something that she didn't want to tell him, but it wasn't worth prying. Lucian was clearly devout and had the ability to kill, but that didn't mean he was smart enough to plan anything nefarious.
Katrine started tightly braiding her hair, eyes narrowed and lips set in a thin line. Her fingers were tense and white. If there was some way he could relieve her of some of the pain, he would do it, though he had no idea how. Pain was something he was used to and he didn't like the sight of it on her face.
"I can find him. If you want. He couldn't have gone far."
She smiled, a melancholy smile that reminded him that he was still small and weak, that same smile his mother gave him as she shut the door to the armoire. "It's not your problem."
The rain was dying, now a soft drizzle that made the air thick and fuzzy. Katrine finished braiding her hair and pushed herself off the wall, spine straightening. Her expression turned detached, back to normal, like nothing had ever happened. But she was still too pale. For some irrational reason, he thought that angry red slash at her lips made her look more alive.
"If you tell anyone, I'll cut your eye out, too. I mean it. Don't go running your mouth this time." Her tone was resolute.
Levi rolled his eyes. Back to threats she couldn't keep. But he wouldn't. And besides, there was no reason for Erwin to know this time. "I won't."
She twisted her lips, her shoulders creeping forward. "Sorry I left you with all that."
He shook his head. "What are you going to do now?"
Katrine threw up her hands. "Don't know. Find another church, I guess. Or I'll just leave." At that, she turned and walked away.
"Seriously."
"I am serious," she said over her shoulder without stopping. A second later she was gone. He thought to call out to not do anything stupid, but she wouldn't heed it anyway.
Without the patter of rain, the rooftop became eerily quiet. Levi shuddered, probably because he was damp and smelled too much like dirty water, but he couldn't force his feet to move because his head was too busy asking questions Katrine wouldn't come back to answer.
It made sense now, her abrasive demeanor and why she reacted so strongly to being touched. She acted like every man had bad intentions. But he still didn't know why she seemed to think that he was different, that she found him worthy to see the darkness clinging to her heart like tar. She'd let him see through the performance when he'd given her no reason to trust him. And why did she dance for no one when she seemed so determined to force everyone to look at her?
Unthinking, he raised his hand to his mouth and touched his lips. It certainly didn't explain that, either.
Levi turned to the moon. The stars were growing brighter behind the dissipating clouds. The first time he'd seen it, he'd let himself think that things might get better, that being able to see the sky meant he could learn to fly. It was untrue, obviously, and he'd been indulgent to let himself consider it. He and Katrine both knew all too well the bitter agony of clawing your way up out of hell to realize you were still stuck on the ground.
She'd finally shocked him, said something that shook the indifference off his face. But why did she feel so awful?
Katrine sat with her knees to her chest, swallowed by blackness in the little closet no one used because the door always stuck. Her damp clothes made her shiver, but she didn't feel like she deserved warm ones. Why had those words come spilling out of her? Had exhaustion dulled her senses? She'd done just fine pretending like she was a well-bred, unsullied retired ballerina from Mitras looking to do something meaningful with her life until Lucian came slithering out of whatever crevice he'd been hiding in. You couldn't even control your tears. Her eyes began to itch again.
And why him? How was a man ever going to understand? She'd told no one, not even Mila. Even if keeping it buried didn't make it any less true, it made things easier. And she couldn't trust Levi with something so horrible, not with what he'd done last time. Now he probably thought she was more of a worthless idiot than he already did. He certainly thought she was dirtier. Why had she thrown off her armor and let him peer into her broken soul?
Katrine felt hollow, like she'd been scraped clean of poison, but she was exposed, too. A hidden part of herself was gone, one she'd given to him without even realizing. But Levi's expression flashed behind her eyes, despite the fact that she hadn't tried to focus on him. It wasn't disgusted. It might have been sorrowful.
She sighed and rubbed her brow. If there was anyone's face she should be thinking of, it should be Victoria's. She'd be disappointed. If their fates had been reversed, Victoria wouldn't have hesitated. Victoria would have extracted every last bit of information from that priest and then gutted him like the pig he was.
Lucian had said something, though. Remembering him describing children as "little souls" sent a wave of nausea up her throat. Did that relate to the horrible implications in the letter? Whatever it was, it was in Mitras. It had to be.
She hadn't been able to kill Lucian, despite all her promises to herself, and she hated breaking a vow. But it would be even worse to let someone like Lucian harm another girl when she already knew the kind of person he was. She'd also promised herself she wouldn't go to Mitras again, except on her own terms. The idea forming in her mind didn't exactly break that promise.
Katrine pushed open the door, not caring if she woke anyone with its groaning, and squinted against the first rays of the morning sun. Then she went to wake Elisabeth.
The Military Police arrived at the Scouts compound early in the morning, just as predicted.
Katrine found the group of unicorn-emblazoned carriages waiting by the gates to the compound, Elisabeth trailing behind her. Figuring the most heavily guarded one held the commander, she marched up and demanded to see him.
"Hold up, no visitors," one MP said.
"Do you know who she is?" Katrine pointed up at Elisabeth, who stiffened.
The MP squinted, but his eyes widened when he recognized the resemblance. "Are you on orders from Commander Smith?"
"Something like that."
The MP knocked on the carriage door and poked his head inside. After a few muttered words, he cracked the door open wider. Katrine ducked under his arm and, despite his protests, climbed in and plopped down on a velvet cushion. Elisabeth followed and sat primly.
Commander Nile Dok stared down his sharp nose at her, a pinched frown on his face. He looked like he'd just eaten a lemon. Katrine mirrored the look.
"My name is Katrine Casimir, captain of the Cartography Unit, and this is my vice-captain, Elisabeth Smith, as you are well aware."
One eyebrow quirked, but he crossed his arms. "This is rather improper, Captain Casimir—"
"In exchange for immunity, I will tell you everything you need to know about Commander Erwin Smith."
Nile's mouth dropped open. But he quickly pursed his lips, assessed both of them, and nodded.
Katrine smiled and leaned back into her seat.