Year 850: Six months before the attack on the 57th Expedition
Trapped in a cage of trees and Titan corpses, enveloped in steam and snow, lay a hand, the only remnant of Henry's body. Blood seeped out of his wrist and onto the frost-dusted grass, green swallowed by sticky dark red.
"He's dead!" Shaking, tears streamed down Sara's face. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this! They said Titans don't come out when it's cold!"
"Pull yourself together, Sara!" Covered in blood, Elisabeth gripped dripping swords in white-knuckled fists. "More will come if you keep screaming!"
"But he's—"
"Shut up!" One sword flew up, directed at Sara. Blood spattered on her boots.
"Don't talk to her like that! It wasn't her fault!" Katrine wrapped a protective arm around her. A cold wind froze the wet patch Sara left on her coat. Instead of Henry's hand, Katrine stared at her own wrapped around Sara's shoulders. Was it trembling because Sara shook? She couldn't tell. All her limbs were numb.
"I'm not saying that! It's no one's fault! But more are coming!"
It wasn't no one's fault. It was Katrine's fault. They were in the forest, where ODM was at its best. Bitter winds and snowfall promised to keep Titans away. The scouting mission was supposed to take half a day's time.
But she should have turned them around when they'd heard low rumbles in the distance instead of pressing on. Erwin had ordered them to scout Bane Pass, to see if snow blocked their way to the remains of Quinta District, and she hadn't wanted to return empty-handed. She'd wanted to prove she wasn't useless. Now, she'd done just that.
Maybe it was when Mila had stumbled after dodging a Titan's outstretched hand and Katrine had run to help her, leaving the job of severing another Titan's neck to Henry, that it all started to go wrong. It was because she wasn't strong enough to pull Henry out of its grasp, thick fingers smashing his bones and teeth disconnecting his body from that pale arm, the only piece left of him. He must've seen in her eyes the moment she decided he was lost and that she needed to turn to the others. She hadn't cut the Titan's eyes deeply enough, hadn't moved quickly enough, hadn't foreseen all the possibilities.
Three of the horses lay broken on the ground. No one spoke; only condensation puffed at their faces. The darkening sky, a low churning gray, threatened to bury them with more snow.
A sudden noise caused them all to jump. Ice had fallen off a branch. The ensuing silence had its own malevolent presence.
"Come on," Elisabeth said, her irritation barely restrained.
Face wan, Mila crouched before Henry's hand. "Can we bring it back?"
"No," Elisabeth snapped. "We're going. Now."
Mila traced Henry's empty palm, his fingers curled like an insect's legs. "For his family," she muttered.
I was hoping when I died my body would make it back in one piece.
"They get a medal," Elisabeth said. "That's enough. We need to go."
"We're not done," Katrine said.
"It doesn't matter. We're down one man and three horses. I don't care what Erwin says, we're not all dying to find out if the pass is blocked so he can see if Titans really did jump over Wall Maria."
"Then Henry dying will be for nothing!"
"Do you want one person to die, or five?"
Neither. Though the answer was obvious, shackles of guilt weighed her down. And they grew even heavier with her relief that it was him and not one of the women.
"The snow's getting worse and the sun's setting," Elisabeth said. "We can't do anything else."
I'm not good enough at this, Katrine thought as she nodded. Elisabeth should be captain. She knows what to do.
They mounted the remaining horses, Mila behind Elisabeth while Sara clung to Katrine. Elisabeth shot into the snow, Mila's dark hair flying out behind them, and with one glance back at Henry's hand, she followed. Sara's tears soaked into her back and Katrine squeezed one of her hands clenched around her waist. I could just turn around and run. The thought of explaining to Erwin why the mission had failed made her stomach turn. I owed Henry my life and this is how I repay him. I came here to find a way out, not cause more people to die.
She looked back to the snow-laced trees and slate gray mountains in the distance. But Sara gripped her waist tighter and she turned to Mila and Elisabeth's backs. With a small shake of her head, she jabbed her heels into her horse's flanks and kept moving forward.
The meeting was as painful as expected.
At the compound a few kilometers outside Krolva, she stood alone before Erwin in his makeshift office, the only chair stacked high with books. The others were there too, section leaders wondering why the expedition would be delayed; keeping the Scouts outside the confines of Wall Rose even a minute longer was dangerous. It was like she'd been ordered to stroll onstage wearing rags, the audience armed with rotten tomatoes. She didn't want to look at Hange's pitying expression, or Miche's folded arms, or decipher the shadows on Levi's face. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on Erwin's bolo tie, the green eye winking at her when it caught the flicker of the fireplace. You did! You killed him!
"We'll reset and determine the best plan of action tomorrow," Erwin said. He hadn't frowned, or turned red with rage, or grabbed a poker to hit her in the thigh. That was worse. Maybe he needed the time to write back to Mr. Kaiser and take him up on the offer. She'd killed one of his subordinates, a piece needed in whatever his grand scheme was, and that crime couldn't go unpunished.
She nodded, saluted, and exited the office to get as far away as she could as quickly as possible.
The cramped room standing as a mess hall was empty, a vat of congealed stew sitting on a long table. Katrine scraped up the last of it into a bowl and picked up the days-old newspaper someone had brought. Groaning as she took her place at the end of the bench, she spooned tasteless stew into her mouth as she read the front page without registering its meaning.
He'll realize he can't trust anyone with me, she thought as she speared an undercooked potato. Maybe he'll move them to some other team. I'll be the captain of cleaning stables. She turned a page so hard a tear split the page in half. If I can't get anywhere with four other people, then how could I ever make it out alive?
An abnormally large blurb in the obituaries caught her eye.
Emile Kaiser, ballet master of the Mitras Company, died yesterday after a long bout of pneumonia. He was sixty-four years of age.
The cold stew in her mouth turned to sludge and slid down her throat. Barely hearing her spoon clatter into the bowl, she snatched up the newspaper and held it to her face.
An innovator and genius, Kaiser established one of the foremost artistic enterprises of the Walls. In his dictum that the material of dance is dance itself, he taught us to look at ballet in a new way.
She scoffed, her disdain echoing around her. Who'd pulled "his dictum that the material of dance is dance itself" out of their ass? Mr. Kaiser's dictum was to do it right the first time or get a switch to the calf.
In his attraction to the very essence of dance — movement and combinations of steps — he enlarged the ballet vocabulary and presence as had no other choreographer. And because his choreography was so closely related to the music, a Kaiser work became an invitation to see the music and hear the dancing.
Nobody came to see the music and hear the dancing! They stowed their wives in the audience and came backstage to find some pretty thing to shove their dick inside!
Kaiser brought dancers such as Alexandra Deneuve, Valeria Maryinski, and Irene Balanchine to eminence, reflections of his dedication to technical and artistic purity. He is survived by his wife of forty years, three daughters, and eight grandchildren.
Katrine whipped the newspaper behind her in disgust, strewing the pages across the floor. The thought of him hacking out his last cursed breath surrounded by a clucking wife and simpering daughters was enough to make the stew turn rancid in her stomach. She stood, the bench screeching behind her, and stormed out of the mess hall and to her room.
Daughters! He had daughters and knew what the patrons did! He'd watched them as children, wiped away tears, and took their hands to pick them up when they fell, knowing well enough that if any apprentice girl did the same it meant they'd get sent right back where they came from. Those daughters probably didn't even know they existed. More likely they did and just didn't care, as long as food filled their bellies.
"I pity your daughters," she hissed between her teeth, not meaning it in the slightest.
Right as she threw open the door she'd slipped off her jacket and tore off her bloodstained clothes, digging through her bag for the soft stretchy pants and top. Yanking off her boots, she changed clothes and twisted her hair up into a bun, ignoring pinpricks of pain as she tightened it.
Pneumonia. Ridiculous. Couldn't he have been run over by a carriage? A chandelier should have fallen on his head. She pulled her boots back on, stamping her feet on the floor. Hope he coughed out both his lungs and shit out his stomach.
She dashed out the back door into the chilly night, the trees illuminated by moonlight. There should be a training field not far from the compound, if it wasn't overgrown with weeds. And if that were true, she'd keep going. A dirt patch would do. It didn't matter.
Alexandra Deneuve, Valeria Maryinski, and Irene Balanchine...reflections of his dedication to technical and artistic purity.
"I was better than all of them," she snarled as she tramped through the weeds. "You knew I was better than all of them! I was more dedicated to 'artistic purity' than you ever were! I sweat and bled over it while you stood there leaning on that cane of yours!"
Branches and leaves crunched beneath her, her fury filling the air. Let them find her. Some Titan should come stumbling out of the trees and she'd let him eat her legs first. Or, better yet, it could leave them behind and someone could dump them at Mr. Kaiser's grave.
The trees opened into a clearing, an abandoned training field dusted with snow. A few dilapidated structures at the edge stood slouching like drunken men.
"An audience! You always said the audience is the reason we exist. But don't you think it'd be easier if we all just stood in a line and lifted our skirts?"
Silence answered her.
"Right! Good girls don't talk." Katrine marched into the field. A crooked stack of pallets stood next to one of the sheds. Fine, good enough. She could still balance in an arabesque longer than anyone else, and she'd show him. She pulled one off of the stack and threw it on the ground, stirring up a cloud of dirt. The loud slam was satisfying. The pallet creaked when she stepped on it to test the weight.
You've gotten rather...fleshy. Ghostly fingers pinched her side.
"If I don't eat then I'll fall and break all my bones like Valeria. Light as dust. Was that what you wanted?" Katrine bent to remove her boots but stopped, thoughts scattering. Reminded of her empty hands, she patted at her clothes even though they didn't have any pockets.
The shoes. She's forgotten the shoes.
She scoffed. Then laughed. She was a fucking idiot. Tears stung her eyes and her teeth began to chatter.
"I never said you could die, Emile!" She spat out his name in a mocking, cloying way, a futile attempt to sate the bitterness in her mouth. So pretentious. It felt good, cornering a mouse and cutting off its exits. "You don't get to die until I can wrap my hands around your neck!"
But he had. If she wrung his neck it would be cold and rubbery, the life long gone.
She doubled over, hands on her thighs. Breath whooshed in and out of her lungs. Victoria, Henry, and now him. She couldn't do anything right. The people she was supposed to protect died in blood and bruises while the ones who deserved to be punished passed tucked in their beds with a cup of warm milk to aid the passage.
Katrine sank to her knees and placed her hands on the cold wooden pallet, bowing to her rage as it pounded inside her, demanding to be released. She pressed her forehead to her thighs, the sweat seeping into her pants. Curling into herself, she cupped her hands around her mouth and took in a long, steady breath. Then she screamed.
Agony echoed around her and faded into black skies. Nothing in her body changed except for the fire engulfing her throat. But finally, some physical pain matched the hurt buried inside her chest. A few hot tears splashed onto her hands and she swiped at her face. Not him. She would never cry over him.
"Why'd you bother sending a letter? If you wanted me back, it would be so I could repair holes in leotards and turn the pianist's sheet music, right?" She pushed herself up, knees quivering as she stood. "Sit outside the doors with a bucket of water for the patrons to wash themselves off afterward?" That letter, sitting inside some file Erwin had on her with all her other flaws and transgressions, waiting for her to stumble so it could lash out and send her crashing to the floor. "You can't make me go back," she muttered. "You can't make me do anything."
"Katrine."
She whipped her head around, hands grasping at air, defenseless without her knife or her swords.
It was Levi, emerging from the shadows as if he could slip soundlessly through them. She quickly folded her arms and turned away as not to show him the humiliating anguish twisting her face. He must've smelled the fear on her like a dying animal.
Go away! Stop looking at me!
But he ignored her silent plea, crunching through the frosty grass, and before she could stop them her eyes flicked over.
It was unfair, criminal even, that he could spend the entire day on a horse and then the rest of the evening sweating over drills and look that perfect. Damp shirt clinging to his chest, forearm bandaged and scraped, a few errant hairs sticking to his forehead; she wouldn't change a thing. Katrine forced her gaze downwards, then looked again. She could spend hours memorizing his features, the sharp slope of his cheekbones and pale thin lips, and still feel like it hadn't been enough. Because it wasn't enough, not when his face materialized behind her closed eyes and disappeared before she could figure out what made it so captivating when there wasn't a gem-encrusted crown or glittering costume to trick people into enchantment. Ignoring that ever-present flutter in her stomach, she knitted her fingers together.
He stopped a few yards away from her, a wide berth. Part of her wanted to sprint away, disappear into the trees, while the other demanded she run straight toward him. The competing forces threatened to rip her in half.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
No. "I'm fine," she said to the ground.
"If that's your 'fine' then I don't want to know what your bad days look like."
Katrine forced out a weak puff of air. "I...a bat flew in my face." It was too cold for bats and he knew it. She glared at her boots, digging a hole in the ground with her toe. "What are you doing out here?"
"Training. But then I heard you howling at the moon."
"Really, I'm fine." She straightened as if it were true. "Needed fresh air."
"Look, Katrine, people make mistakes. Scouts die. That's how it works here." He walked toward her. Don't, stop. I can't take it. "But the sun's still rising tomorrow."
"I know that." She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"People have died before and you didn't run off screaming about it. So what else?"
"Nothing else." Was it that obvious?
"You're not one for shyness. Out with it."
She bit her lip, raising her hand to her forehead to shield her face. It was pathetic. The silence was twisting her arm. "Someone else died."
His eyes narrowed. "In the mission?"
"No. Someone I knew." She waved a hand. "From Mitras." She squared her shoulders and set her gaze at the trees. Nothing more.
"And?"
"The ballet master," she blurted. "The one who holds your entire life in the palm of his hand. The one who could send you back down to where you came from if he decided he didn't like his breakfast that day. The one who gives you flowers while the audience is standing on their feet clapping, but rips them out of your hands and stomps on them the second the curtain falls." Clamping down on her tongue to stop herself, she dug her fingernails into her palms. If she wasn't careful, then everything would pour out, an unstoppable flood.
"The one who said if you point your toes, you can go anywhere?"
She almost laughed. Of course he'd remember that. "Yeah. But the way he said it, it was more like a threat." She walked to the shed and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit. "I should be celebrating, really." She brought her knees to her chest and rested her forearms on them, hiding her face.
"Then why aren't you?"
Her head snapped up and she threw out her hands. "I don't know! That's why I'm here! You seem to know everything, you tell me."
"Not any more than you."
Silence fell, and she brought her arms back to her knees and rested her chin on them. He'll go away if I don't say anything. We'll continue the expedition and forget about this.
Instead, Levi walked over and sat down next to her. But it's dirty, the ground is wet, she wanted to say, but his shoulder bumped hers though it didn't seem to bother him. His breath clouded in front of him and her hand itched to catch it and hold it in her fingers.
"Pretty terrible party you're throwing," he said.
"No one showed up, and I forgot the whiskey."
He turned his face to the moon and she stole a glance at his jaw, the line of his neck. "I didn't know there was a commander of the ballet."
"Ballet master. The instructor, the choreographer. Funny thing is, I never saw him dance. I think he only did it so he could scream at people who couldn't scream back."
"You? Not screaming back?"
She smiled wryly. "No. I was just another warm body. He'd probably forgotten all about me." She wasn't going to explain the letter. She couldn't just dump everything on him.
He scoffed. "Surely no one'd forget about you."
Katrine bit down on her lip to kill her smile. In the cyclone swirling at the pit of her stomach, a calm center appeared. "He died of pneumonia. Merciful. It should have been gangrene. Or syphilis. Or a Titan appearing out of nowhere to step on him."
He turned to look at her and she stared at her knees, his gaze searing. "Sounds like you hate him."
"I just...I don't know what I'd be without him." Reaching forward, she plucked a blade of grass, tearing it in her fingers. "If I didn't leave, I guess I'd still be dancing. Or married to some man twenty years older." She tossed the pieces into the mud. "Or I could still be down there. Or dead."
"Not worth thinking about it. You can't change it."
"Hard not to."
"Then try harder."
She threw out her hands, scowling. "Screw you! I am trying!"
He snorted in that odd way that meant he was laughing.
Silence fell again, the falling snow muffling any noise besides their breathing. But it was more than just an absence of sound; it was like they were the only two people in the world, that no one else had existed or ever would, and that was absolutely fine.
"You really didn't want to die there?" he asked.
She had said that, hadn't she? Stupid. "Well, Titans aren't scary because if you land wrong, you die. That's it, it's over. But in Mitras, if you land wrong you have to get back up and all you can think about is whether you're done or not. And then you have to do it all over again tomorrow."
"And that's better?"
Stop asking! But the poison was draining out with every word she said to him. "I guess it's better to have a quick death than a slow one."
"Or, you can die when you're wrinkled as a raisin and someone wipes your shit for you."
She sighed. "If I'd brought a grenade, then maybe Henry would, too."
"Don't be a dumbass."
"I'm not," she mumbled, staring at her fingers. But she could feel his gaze on her, warming her skin like spring sunlight, and she turned.
There was something different about his eyes. Though they were still piercing enough that she was certain he could see right through her, they seemed soft and gentle. But if he could see it all, then why was he closing the space between them instead of turning away from her mangled scars? She wanted to know. It was the only thing she ever wanted to know.
His lips weren't pale. They were pink as the inside of a flower, like the ones that fell at her feet onstage. But warm, alive. Would they feel the same, soft and delicate?
She leaned forward and kissed him.
His hands were suddenly at her shoulders but icy air flew into her face as he shoved her away, enough to knock the breath out of her and replace it with cold stinging shock. She quickly turned her eyes to the ground, the grass now a vibrant, pulsating green as if it were noon on a summer day instead of the middle of the night. It was like she'd jumped into the air and expected to land steadily on her feet but instead someone had yanked one leg out and she crashed to the floor.
"It's not a good idea," he said.
She was twelve years old again, cowering under Mr. Kaiser's sweaty palm. He's leaving you, Katrine, he doesn't want you!
"Right." Someone else said it, on the other side of the Wall. She sprang to her feet. Her vision tunneled and all she could see was the wet ground in front of her, not whatever his expression was, disgust in those perfect blue eyes. "Sorry."
He doesn't want you he doesn't want you he doesn't want you—
"Wait," he said, and she could hear him rising to his feet but she was already walking away, not running but long strides so she could get away faster because he was laughing, all the way from wherever his grave was, his words pounding with her heartbeat. He doesn't want YOU he doesn't want YOU he doesn't want YOU!
"Katrine!"
She bit down hard on her lip, hands clenching into fists, and did not look back.
Katrine burst into the compound and took the creaking stairs two at a time to her tiny room on the third floor. But when she closed the door behind her, the breath trapped inside her lungs refused to budge. It was still too big, too cavernous. She threw open the door to the closet and squeezed herself inside, and when she closed the door and let herself be swallowed by darkness did that breath finally escape, leaving behind a vacuum immediately filled with humiliation.
"You're such an idiot!" she cried, pressing her fingers into her temple. Why had she thrown off her armor, stripped herself bare for him when no one demanded it? She wasn't supposed to show him any part of her! Because she wanted to know why he'd shown kindness to her, felt warmth from him? Fire showed warmth until it grew insatiable and consumed everything in its path. You can't trust the eye of the storm, let it trick you into complacency! Inevitably he'd show his true colors if she just waited, and was she going to welcome him with open arms?
And what would the girls at the Company think of her? Cecily would castigate her and Valeria would shake her head in disappointment. And Victoria? It should have been her, it should have always been her. If she was a Scout, she'd actually be a leader and protect the people depending on her. She wouldn't need someone else to soothe her, say things that made her laugh, or prove to her that someone from that shithole could make it out in one piece; act like the four walls of that closet to shield her from roving eyes and wandering fingers, Titan or human.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't bother to wipe them away. All the better; let her be hideous, let her be dirty, let her display what she truly was. She'd been presumptuous to think that she was anywhere near good enough for him. Levi! Humanity's Strongest, unshakeable, fearless, intimidating; everything she wished she was.
Her snow-soaked coat hung above her, its damp smell choking. He must've had a bad sense of smell, and that was why he'd sat so close to her despite the stench of fear and hatred and other men's sweat drenching her. Maybe that was the only mistake he'd ever made.
He doesn't want you. Well, obviously! He wouldn't want someone used up, damaged, pathetic; someone who, despite crying and screaming, could do absolutely nothing. The filth on her could never be washed off, soot that smudged those who got too close. He already knew that, knew that dirty things like her would only be purified when fed to flames.
Broken glass, but he'd avoided stepping on her. For the best. She laughed, weak and pitiful.
We're leaving for Bane Pass in the morning. And then I can disappear into the snow. The thought of ice on her flaming skin was calming. Katrine tilted back her head and rested it against the wall, waiting for the light at the crack of the door to appear.
Levi watched her walk away, felt his mouth open and a plea on his tongue, and said nothing. But there was nothing to say, and he let the space between them grow into a chasm.
He'd known since he was thirteen and Kenny had turned his back on him in the middle of a street brawl that no one was ever going to want him. What human being would ever want to be that close to him, a child reeking of blood and decay who grew into a man able to snuff a life in the blink of an eye? He was destined to be alone, given a wide berth like a swarm of buzzing wasps. Wasn't it obvious, clearly written in the dark shadows under his eyes and the sharpness of his voice?
Wind swirled around him, cold snowflakes sticking to his cheeks as if he'd never been warm at all. Whatever it was Katrine wanted, he couldn't dream of fulfilling it. She deserved a diamond, not a pebble in her shoe. Maybe she should have stayed in Mitras, married some man with a house the size of a fortress and enough money to bury herself in; not him, who'd drag her back down to the hell she'd crawled out of. Someone whose hands were soft and clean, not calloused with bruised knuckles; hands to hold rather than to hurt.
But despite that, he'd hesitated. The moment between when she'd pressed her lips to his and he snapped to action he thought for a brief stupid moment that maybe he shouldn't move, let himself sink into her, be swept away in the current. Stop thinking. Figure out how she'd learned to fly when the dirt wrapped fingers around his ankles.
He who hesitates is lost, Levi, don't you forget that. Kenny had meant that for killing, a hand striking a face, not for when someone tried to kiss him. The old man probably hadn't thought of that possibility. Levi certainly hadn't.
Besides, Katrine should know better than to get closer than spitting distance to someone in the Scouts. Death came at a moment's notice. That was begging for pain. He'd tried to keep himself guarded with Farlan and Isabel and their deaths had razed him, drought scorching an already barren wasteland.
He shook his head forcefully. Something had gone horribly wrong inside her. Henry dying, that other man too, had triggered something in her head that made her think that he was worthwhile. And if she had ludicrous ideas like that, then what else was going to leak out of her? She was already reckless. She could endanger herself, someone else, all of them.
Levi turned and started back the way he came, taking the long route through the forest back to the compound. Ears pricked for noises, he lurked through the shadows, unseen as he slipped through the back door. He had to warn Erwin before she did something stupid like sever her ODM cables or jump off Wall Maria and disappear into the unknown. Stick her in the back of the formation. Strap her down in a wagon. But not near the explosives, he thought as he bounded up the stairs to Erwin's office. This was a knot only he could untie. He knocked once and entered without waiting for a response.
Erwin stood studying a large map pinned to the wall, an expanded view of Krolva and the upper left quadrant of Walls Rose and Maria. A large blue cross marked their current location while a mix of green and red arrows circled it, most pointing to Bane Pass. "Levi," he said by way of greeting, not turning from the map.
"You're up late." Levi scanned the cramped office for some imperfection to focus on, settling on a dried leaf at the corner of the window fluttering in the breeze.
Erwin nodded at the map. "I'd like to get to Quinta in two days. The weather's not promising, but at this time of year it's unlikely the pass is blocked. If we scout early enough tomorrow morning then by noon we can—"
"Send someone else."
He turned, analytical blue eyes resting on Levi's shoulders. "Why?" No hesitation. Erwin always heard it the first time; there was never a need to repeat it and give Levi an extra second to think.
"Katrine. She isn't right." His internal temperature seemed to rise a degree and he flattened his palm on the cold desk.
"How so?"
"She's...off. Not taking Henry's death well."
Erwin folded his arms. "First death in the squad or not, I'd assume she's used to it by now."
"Right. But she's acting strange."
"Strange how?"
Thinking it's a good idea to kiss me. But he couldn't say that. Not to anyone, least of all Erwin, who depended on him to be calm and levelheaded and without any sort of emotion besides measured rage. He was to be empty, a chamber for bullets, and Katrine had come and dumped in hot oil.
"Just...strange! Saying weird things. Screaming in the middle of the woods. Stop her before she goes flying out the window with no wings."
"I'm not sure what you're asking of me, Levi—"
"She's got grenades and isn't afraid to use them. Say the pass is blocked. What's she going to do, turn back when she can blow it up? And then what, summon every Titan in a kilometer radius? Cause an avalanche and bury us all?"
That caught his attention. "She told you this?"
He looked back at the leaf. "Not in those terms. But implied." It wasn't necessarily a lie. She had mentioned it. And he had to make Erwin understand that her mind had spun off its axis into some dimension where it was perfectly rational to think he was worth any kind of tenderness. But after this he'd go outside and tear off that leaf and clean every single window in the castle, sweep the roofs too, just to rid himself of that guilt and the migraine that was inevitably going to come roaring in afterward.
Erwin pressed his fist to his mouth, a deep line forming between his brows as he studied the map. The only noise in the room was the snow pattering against the window. But his face relaxed and he nodded. "Miche's squad can scout. I can't have someone in such a pivotal role distracted."
"Exactly," Levi said, hoping his relief wasn't evident.
"With some shifting, this can still work within the timeframe." Erwin picked up his pen and drew an ominous black X over one of the green markings.
"Still on track to set off the day after tomorrow?"
"Yes. No harm done." Harm sounded like she'd tried to chop his arm off. But it wasn't that, he thought, but kept his lips pressed in a thin line. "Do you know what she did before all this?" Erwin turned back to him, gaze still piercing in the dim light. "In Mitras."
Levi narrowed his eyes. Everyone knew that. "A dancer."
Erwin opened his mouth but then shut it as if reconsidering, and then nodded. It seemed like it wasn't the correct answer. "I appreciate your honesty, Levi. I know it's difficult to bring up concerns regarding someone you've grown close to."
He knew? "It's nothing." With that he turned and left, shutting the door softly behind him.
Pressing his fingers to his closed eyes, Levi forced himself to relax. It's over, everything is taken care of. Katrine would get angry when Erwin told her, probably scream at him, but she'd come to her senses and realize that it was better for her not to snag herself on his rough edges. He started down the hallway, ready to return to his drills. There were more important things to focus on, like retaking Wall Maria and eradicating Titans. They shouldn't waste their energy. Just because they came from the same place and he'd given her Kenny's knife for some stupid reason didn't mean that they had to be close. They could just pretend it never happened.
And...then what?
He suddenly stopped. Distracted. Erwin hadn't meant just Katrine; he'd had meant him, too. Levi hissed through his teeth and slammed a fist against the wall. It was like someone had punched through his ribs, tearing out his still-beating heart and flinging it to the floor for everyone to see, dirt mixing in with his blood. That was an insult, coming from Erwin. Levi didn't get distracted. If he didn't want to think about Katrine, then she would never flicker into his mind ever again. You mean nothing to me. I don't need you, I never did. How dare they peer into his soul uninvited!
He stalked down the stairs and out the door. He'd been nearly finished with that set of climbing exercises, but he'd just do it all again. And then strength drills, and sparring, and laps, to exhaust himself to oblivion.
The cold light of morning was harsh and bright, illuminating every flaw on her face as Katrine sat on the edge of her bed staring at her reflection in the little mirror. She'd braided her hair three times but it still wasn't tight enough. They were going to leave for Bane Pass again; hopefully the sun would melt whatever snow remained on the ground so she could have that victory. Then they could go to Quinta and she could pretend that Levi didn't exist, had never existed, and his presence was only an odd shadow or a rustle in the wind.
A knock at the door caused her to jump to her feet. Hands shaking, she tucked the mirror away and glared at the door as if she could see through it and prepare herself for whomever it was, but then straightened and took a deep breath. "What?"
The door opened. It was Erwin, eyes bright and clear, not a hair out of place. Her fingers itched to redo her braid.
"Um, Commander," she said, bringing her fist to her chest in a salute, but he waved her off as he closed the door. He pulled out the chair to her desk and sat. It was too tiny to fit him, the whole room too small for the both of them. Wary of his presence, Katrine sat on her bed, which seemed improper but there was nowhere else for her to go.
"We were planning on leaving in a half-hour," she said hesitantly.
"About that." He crossed his arms. "I've already sent Miche's squad. I won't sugarcoat this, but there are doubts about your stability at the moment."
Something strange vibrated at the back of her throat. "I'm sorry?"
"I know it's tough when a squad member dies. It's all right to take a break and step back for a bit."
"But I'm fine. I can do it." She wanted to do it. She needed to do something right.
"Katrine, I can't put someone in charge who's going to run straight toward the Titans armed with grenades. The goal has always been to avoid Titans."
"What? I never said that! I don't even have any grenades, it was just that one time!" Katrine bit her lip, unable to think clearly. Had she mentioned it, dropped casually in a conversation like the weather or how terrible the soup was that day? She swept her arm out to her bag and rumpled clothes on the floor. "Do you want to look? You can look!"
"The decision's already been made. It's not any mark on your abilities or your character."
Like hell it isn't! "What am I supposed to do? Sit in the back with the recruits?"
"No. You're going back."
"Going back where?"
"Krolva. I have an assignment I need filled in Utopia. Bernstein requested it, I'm sure he'd be pleased to know it was in your capable hands—"
"I don't give a fuck about Bernstein! You can't do that! You can't just demote me because I— because I…" She turned cold. The pieces clicked together with cruel precision.
Mistaking her silence for acceptance, Erwin leaned forward in his chair. "It's not a demotion, Katrine. You're still a captain. But you have to understand my predicament when other people are concerned for not only your safety but those of others—"
"Who told you?"
"Please, be reasonable, it doesn't matter who—"
She sprang to her feet. "Who told you?" Her hands shook, ready to throttle him or wipe at the tears threatening her eyes.
"I said, it doesn't matter."
"Tell me!"
Erwin stood, his chair screeching against the floor and he towered over her, his chest inches away from her face. Katrine sucked in a painful breath, her knees quaking. She couldn't step back or she'd fall onto the bed. She'd forgotten how tall he was, hands as big as her face that could grasp her skull and smash it like an egg; she'd been careless with him, with all of them.
"I think you already know," Erwin said.
Nodding, she forced her gaze to the window and walked stiffly toward it. Utopia, and beyond; the place where snow never melted. It really could be like the Scouts never existed, or Levi, and the warmth she'd felt for him could wither away to ashes. That was never supposed to exist, either. "When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. Your squad goes, too."
"Okay." She didn't turn as Erwin's footsteps receded and he closed the door. Then she yanked out her braid, pulling her fingers through her loose hair, and started again.
Levi thought she was worthless, deranged, less than the ground he walked upon. The truth hurt more than split toenails or dancing on ankle sprains. It hurt like her mother closing the door behind her, that scream late at night at the Company. What had he told Erwin? That some tramp who'd crawled out of the Underground only to dive headfirst into the mud had the audacity to press her lips to his? Had he been disgusted, horrified? Or had they laughed at her?
Tugging the locks of hair into place, needles exploding at her scalp, she glared at her faint reflection in the window. A scratched crystal masquerading as a diamond, so far away from perfect as an ant was from the sun. At least in Mitras, she was good for something; here, she was as useless as a glass hammer.
No. Wait. The red at her lips was still there in that reflection, a splatter of blood in the snow. What she had forgotten was that she was the Firebird, and she was going to consume them in her flames.
Levi thought she was her mother, muttering to the cracks in the walls; he thought she was a meek little girl cowering at the sight of a cane; he thought she was going to fall to her knees and take whatever was coming for her without a sound. But that wouldn't happen again. She was not going to let another man get away with his crime.
"I am not," Katrine hissed at her reflection. "You'll see that I'm not."
Katrine crouched in the dark windowless corner of the kitchen, waiting like a spider for Levi to stumble into her web. He was a creature of habit; that four-in-the-morning tea routine would lure him for her.
She'd spent the day seething. First, she'd tersely told Mila, Sara, and Elisabeth that the scouting mission was reassigned, lying that she had no idea why and leaving no room for questions. It was easy enough to assume it had to do with Henry's death. Then she planted herself at her desk, nose pressed to the maps, pretending to measure distances and topography when instead she wanted to tear them to pieces. Who did he think he was? And that he could run off and blurt all her secrets to Erwin? The hours inched by as she waited for night to fall.
Finally, footsteps broke the silence and Levi entered the kitchen. Opening the cabinet, he rose to his toes to reach a teacup from the shelf which was no longer endearing but infuriating. The clock on the other side of the wall said three fifty-five. Early.
"So," Katrine said, the word whizzing through the air like a bullet, "you told him?"
He turned, shoulders tensed, no sign of fear in his eyes. He must've been used to being jumped. "The hell are you doing?"
She stepped out of the shadows. "You told him."
He set the cup down slowly and folded his arms. "I never told him to do anything."
"But you told him to do something!"
"Calm down, Katrine—"
"Don't tell me to calm down, do you know what he did?" Her name in his mouth sent a hot wave down her back, but instead of that giddy exhilaration, she only felt hatred. "He's demoting me and exiling me to fucking Utopia! So I'm supposed to go away quietly so you all can pretend I never existed? Might as well take me out back and shoot me."
His brow furrowed. "He's not just giving the assignment to someone else?"
So he had! He wasn't fooling her, trying to act innocent. "Don't act like you don't know! Was it your idea? Think I need to cool off?"
"I told him that with Henry and your teacher dying, that you weren't in the best state of mind." The words were measured.
Katrine snorted. That was what he thought of it? "Okay, so you think what I did is the same as strapping ten grenades to myself and screaming for Titans to come feast on me? Is that how much of an idiot you think I am?" She stepped closer. She wanted him to feel the force of her rage, let it press him against the wall. "And I'm sure Erwin jumped at this opportunity. He never liked me, because I don't bend over backward for him. Maybe you should have let me go and die and then you'd be rid of me like that mold you're always searching for."
"It's true. You know it is." Levi's eyes narrowed to slits, reverting to gunmetal gray in the shadows. "We aren't Underground anymore. Stop acting like everyone's waiting for the opportunity to strangle you."
He fucking knew! He knew this whole time! "Seems like all you know is strangling things, huh?"
His lips parted, the muscles in his forehead slackening. There. She'd found the deepest wound and she jammed a dirty finger in deeper. "Don't act like you're so much better than me, we came from the same place. You can sit and polish shit for a thousand years and it'll never turn to gold."
He lowered his head, setting his jaw. "Is that what you think? That I think I'm better than you?"
"You think you're better than all of us! Cleaning up after us like we're children, sneering at specks of mud on our clothes. Just because you can kill ten Titans in the blink of an eye and sit up and roll over whenever Erwin tells you to, they'll never forget what you were."
He dropped his arms, one hand wrapping around the teacup and she tensed, thinking he was going to hurl it at her. If this was the time, then let it come. She wanted it, the blood in her mouth and his hands at her neck so she could scream and claw at his eyes like she'd always wanted to do to everyone else.
"There's a difference between us," he said. "You're selfish, and when that doesn't kill you, it'll kill someone else."
You're just broken glass waiting for someone to step on you. Heat rushed to her face. "You don't know anything about me."
"You've shown me enough to know I made the right choice. Because at the rate you're going you'll be cold in the ground by the end of the year. You should have stayed in Mitras. Seems the worst you got was a broken nail."
That was a cane to her thigh, shattering bone and tearing muscle. She'd been a fool to ever think that he understood, that he was like her at all. If someone had placed him in the antechamber with the rest of the patrons, she wouldn't be able to tell him apart.
"I should've known it was pointless," she said.
He folded his arms again, closing himself back up. But he took the bait. "What?"
"To ever think I could see eye to eye with someone as small as you." She turned on one heel and walked away, turning her back on him as she stalked into the shadows.
He didn't call after this time. Good. She didn't want to hear him speak her name ever again.
Katrine blew into her room, shaking from the adrenaline, and paced back and forth in the tiny space. I hate him, I wish I never met him. I wish he'd starved in the Underground or fell on that damn knife of his. Noticing it sitting on her desk, she swiped it off, skittering into the corner. I can't believe I wanted to kiss him, that I wanted to touch him! She shuddered in disgust. Maybe I did go insane for a moment.
The night sky outside her window was crisp and clear, the snow an impenetrable sheet. Soon it would be a barrier between them, along with mountains and rivers and the towering stone Walls, too high for him to reach over and dip his fingers back beneath her skin.
That look on his face, though, when she'd thrown the horrible things he'd done in the Underground right back at him. He might not have had a choice. It felt like she'd grabbed a sword and slashed at him but suddenly the blade had reversed in her grip and now her own palm was bleeding.
She turned her hand over. It's not. He betrayed me. And he deserved all of it.
Exhausted, Katrine collapsed onto her bed. If he did deserve all of that, and she never wanted to see him or hear his voice or speak to him ever again, then why did it feel like she'd done something terribly wrong, as awful as severed hands and fingerprints on thin bluish necks, like she'd shattered years of small kindnesses and shared secrets in an instant?
She pressed her face into her pillow, swallowing herself in darkness. Stop thinking. He's never taking another piece of you again, she repeated to herself over and over.
"There's been a change of plans. We're going to Utopia," Katrine said to Sara, Mila, and Elisabeth the next morning, all four of them crammed together in her tiny bedroom.
"But why?" Mila twisted her fingers together. "Is it because of…" She cast her eyes downward.
"No, It's a special request from Finance Minister Bernstein. It's a good thing." Katrine smiled, one that felt foreign on her face. She caught Sara's probing gaze and looked away.
"But we're in the middle of an expedition," Elisabeth said.
"You can ask your brother about that. Seemed to think two kilometers is a safe distance to travel. But we're leaving at noon." Katrine was eager to get them out.
"This is ridiculous, cutting us off right before—"
"Elisabeth, we need to get our supplies packed," Sara said, resting her hand on Elisabeth's shoulder. "Katrine can explain further once we get back to Krolva." With a light push, she guided Elisabeth and Mila toward the door. Katrine shot her a thankful look as she shut the door behind her.
Alone again, Katrine curled into a ball on her bed. Even if Bernstein had a mission to complete, it was going to be a failure. How could she go to Utopia to fulfill a decades-old promise when she couldn't keep the rest of them? She didn't want to look for her father, decipher the nonsense her mother spoke of, or figure out how Levi knew why she acted like everyone was trying to strangle her. She wanted to lay down and die.
Someone knocked at the door and Katrine pushed herself up. "Yes?"
Sara slipped into the room, holding a glass of water and two spoons. "Drink this," she said, handing the glass to her, "and hold these on your eyes."
Katrine stared into the water, watching her fingers blur and expand through the glass. "That obvious?"
"Keep these on your eyes and it won't be." Sara sat down next to her and passed her the spoons. The cold metal was soothing in her hands. Setting the glass down, Katrine closed one eye and held a spoon against it, bringing immediate relief to her dry, stinging skin.
"If I make them hurry, we can get out by ten," Sara said. "We'll be in Krolva by midday and then make plans for Utopia." She steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. "Is this about Henry?"
Katrine fell backward on the bed, placing the other spoon over her eye. "Sort of."
"What did Commander Erwin say?"
"Nothing." She bit her lip and pressed the spoons down harder. "It wasn't him."
"Then who…" The silence asked the question for her. Katrine did not remove the spoons from her eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not until we get out of here."
"Fair enough. I'll get those two packing and keep them from asking questions, but when we get to Krolva I want an explanation on whatever this special request is. And then later you can tell me why this is the first time I've seen you cry."
Katrine swallowed, her mouth dry. "Deal."
Sara squeezed her knee. Katrine didn't have the energy to shrink away. "Be back soon." Her weight on the bed disappeared and the door creaked shut behind her.
Sighing, Katrine sat up and stared at the now-warm spoons in her hands. Resting them on her thighs, she picked up the glass and took a sip of water. She should just drop it on the floor and watch it shatter into a million pieces, or bend the spoons in half, something to prove what she'd ruined.
No. It's his fault, too. She slammed the glass down, a few drops of water splashing onto her hand, and shoved her clothes into her bag. They were right when they said he was Erwin's dog. Surveying the empty room, she nodded, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. Nothing there to ruin, anyway.
The yard buzzed with Scouts preparing for the expedition later that day. That was a relief; they'd think she was getting ready for that instead of a long journey into a frozen wasteland. She found Elisabeth's golden head at the edge of the yard, their horses already prepared to depart into the forest path, and darted through the crowd to meet them. Tying her pack to her horse, she motioned the others to hurry up.
"Please let me know when you make it to Utopia," Erwin said from behind her.
"I will." Katrine refused to turn around. She could feel Levi's eyes on her back. It could have come from the group of Scouts at the stable, or an upstairs window, or the shadows at her feet, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing defeat on her face. "How long do you think this exile's going to be?" Mounting her horse seemed as difficult as climbing a mountain.
"It's not an exile. Minister Bernstein specifically requested a squad of Scouts to oversee the recapture of the iceburst mine. He's providing us more funding in return, funding we desperately need. I'd been considering sending you to begin with, it's just earlier than anticipated."
Despite his well-worded lies, it still sounded like banishment. "I'll send you a letter. I assume you'll be in Trost by then."
"Most likely. Thank you for your cooperation in this."
More like coercion. But Levi had certainly already told Erwin every word she'd said last night, and Erwin was going to inform him of her cadence and facial expressions and the timing of her breathing. Best not to say anything, be dry and hard as week-old bread.
"Of course, Commander." Setting one foot in the stirrup, she swung herself into the saddle and motioned to Sara, Mila, and Elisabeth. Fixing her gaze on the path ahead, she set off, her hair flying behind her like a hornet's stinger.
She was going to forget about Levi, forget every kindness he'd ever shown, the comfort in knowing that someone else was cut from the same dirty, ragged cloth. It was an illusion, smoke dissipating in the wind, cosmetics to sharpen her face that smudged and melted in the light. The compound grew smaller and smaller behind her until it vanished into the green blur of trees. Better to keep a short memory; a long one, she knew, could drive her to insanity.