Cathra starts to get tipsy after two wines, rambly after three, and is melancholic by the time she’s downed four.
Kyros watches the transformation from ‘Captain Stelias’ to ‘Drunk Cathra’ with stunned amazement and more than a little concern. They can’t have been in the tavern for more than an hour, and it’s as if he is sitting with a completely different woman than the one he entered the tavern with.
“This… is all just bullshit,” Cathra sniffles into her sleeve, “I can’t believe after all I’ve gone through, this is how I die. A knife in the back that I cannot parry.”
Kyros sips on his own ale as he listens.
“I spent twelve days climbing down the Dragonspine Mountains, alone, when I was five,” Cathra is saying. “Did you know that? Twelve days it took to get down those blasted mountains, and half a moon’s turn more to travel across the Bladed Road.”
Kyros does not know any of this, because Cathra has never shared her past with him or anyone he knows. There are so many questions he wants to ask her, but he gets a distinct feeling that Cathra has forgotten he's even here. She seems to be talking to her mug of wine instead, because she’s glaring at it like she’s teaching it a lesson, occasionally jabbing her finger into its side to emphasize her words. Kyros does not know whether it's best to stay silent, or make some noise to remind Cathra he is still here.
“I survived on nothing but raw lizards and snakes," Cathra goes on, "and now? Just when I think I’ve finally escaped that dreaded snow? They’re going to drag me back into that cold hell!” She snaps the mug off the table, sloshing the red liquid. Kyros reaches out, thinking she's going to throw, but Cathra tilts it over her face instead.
Kyros sits back. “You’re worrying me a little here Cathra.”
Cathra slams her empty mug down, her eyes blazing. “I swear to the twin goddesses themselves, if I get my hands on ‘sir’ Jernal, I am going to rip out his throat with my teeth and gouge out his eyeballs to put in my next drink.”
“Cathra,” Kyros says again, feeling both in awe and sad for her. “Don’t talk like that. You won’t fall like this, I guarantee it. You’re much too strong and amazing to be done in by such groundless rumors.” Then he adds, “And I don’t think Sir Jernal is the one behind all this. It doesn’t seem like him.” Even though you dismembered him.
“Ever the optimist, aren’t you,” Cathra scoffs, clumsily pushing her mug into the pile amassing on the table. “Another!” she calls to the ceiling beams above, “Please!”
A plump girl skips up to Kyros’s side of the table. “Another Windmill Wine for my lady?”
“Ah, actually,” Kyros cuts in before Cathra can put in the order, “do you have anything with, um, less kick in it?”
“Rubbish!” Cathra slaps a hand against the table but somehow misses. “We do not hurt for money, Kyros. I’ll pay for it if you can’t. Hell, I’ll pay for everyone here!” She turns to gesture grandly at the crowded tavern, but there’s too much noise for anyone except Kyros and the waitress to hear her. “It’s not like I need money where I’m going. I’d rather cast it into the wind than to have it waste away in those bastard captain’s pockets!”
“Oookay,” the waitress interjects before Cathra can continue, “one Honey Ale for the lady.” She turns to Kyros and winks at him.
“Anything for you, my lord?”
Kyros holds up his still-full mug. “I’m alright.”
“One Honey Ale, comin’ right up.” The waitress flashes Kyros a bright smile before skipping away. From the back, she looks to have been squeezed into her frilly apron, but if the girl is at all uncomfortable, her movements do not show it.
“Whore.”
Kyros turns to gape at Cathra. “Whoa now. There’s no need for that.”
Cathra points accusingly in the direction the waitress had gone. “Don’t think I couldn't see how that pretty little gal was looking at you. She was practically sending you love letters with her eyes! I bet that if you had asked for her underwear with your order, she’d have whipped them off right there and then and hand them to you.”
“I think we’re done here,” Kyros says, already rising to leave. “Come on Cathra, this isn’t fun anymore.” He looks at her, at the warm candle lights flickering in the vast grey coldness of her eyes. Can you see how I feel about you, then? How crazy I’ve always been for you?
Cathra purses her lips and breaks eye contact. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I was just lashing out.” She sighs and waves at Kyros's empty chair. “Don’t go. Sit down. Let’s finish our drinks first.”
Kyros sits and starts to drink. The ale in his mug has outstayed its welcome and has turned warm, but he has no intention of getting another one if it means prolonging Cathra's stay in this tavern.
Did she lash out because she’s angry, or because she’s jealous?
The thought of it almost makes Kyros laugh. No, that’s absurd.
“I thought she was just being amiable,” he says. “You know, because it’s her job to be.” The ale churns in his stomach, and Kyros tastes sourness on his tongue. He sets the mug down away from him. This is enough drinking for tonight, he decides.
“You should go find her,” Cathra says so softly Kyros doesn’t hear her at first. “There won’t be many women up at the Battlefront. You might not have the chance to embrace the warmth of a body for a long, long while.”
The tavern grows rowdier as the night gets underway. Business dealings make way for drunkards and party gatherings, and Kyros notices a dynamic change in the dress sense around him, something he’s never taken notice of except tonight. Gone are the merchant robes and suits, replaced by adventuring gear and common clothing. He recognizes a few knights drinking and playing cards over at the other end of the tavern, but he doesn’t know them well enough to greet them. He looks around some more, half-hoping he might spot Danny somewhere in the crowd, showing off those freakishly oversized muscles to some unfortunate girl.
He can do with a good laugh right now.
“I mean it, Kyros. She’s cute. Despite what I said earlier.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kyros says, keeping his eyes averted from Cathra, “because you’ll be there.”
“Is that… a threat or a promise?” Cathra’s words are slurred just slightly so she sounds more flirty than drunk, and Kyros is reminded that despite her put-together appearance, Cathra is only twenty-one. Three years older than him.
“Neither. I’d never do anything to do you, Cathra, you know that. I swear on my honor.”
“And yet you do not look at me as you say it.”
Cathra has never been one to shy away from a confrontation, but Kyros suspects the alcohol is beginning to take hold of her thinking. He takes a sip of ale to fortify himself before turning to look at Cathra.
Cathra's eyes are half-closed, yet twinkle with mischief he does not know her to be capable of having.
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"I promise you Cathra," Kyros says, "on my honor as a Knight of Kesrock-” He is stopped short when Cathra places her hand on his.
"In two days' time, we won’t be knights anymore, Kyros." Her voice is low, more like a growl. "Our honor means nothing in the face of bureaucracy."
Kyros swallows the lump in his throat. His heart is beating too fast and the hand beneath Cathra’s has turned to stone. “What… do you want me to say then?”
Cathra’s tongue swipes across the bottom of her lip, sensual and sexy. “I want-”
The waitress chooses this exact time to appear before them. “One ale for my lady,” she announces, placing a heavy mug of Honey Ale in front of Cathra and sneaking another not-so-subtle wink at Kyros.
Cathra clears her throat. “Thank you. We’re ready for the tab now.”
“Certainly, my lady,” the girl chirps and bounces away, her hips swaying narrowly past Kyros.
Neither of them comments on that. Cathra takes a long swig and makes a face. “This tastes like crap.”
“It's happy hour,” Kyros says, trying to gauge if anything has changed between him and Cathra. What was it she was trying to say? Will she continue that line of thought?
Cathra pushes the Honey Ale away and gets to her feet. “Let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.”
Together, they head out into the night. Even though summer has not yet passed, the wind has fangs. Kyros sees Cathra hugging herself, and starts to shrug off his jacket before she stops him.
“I need to get used to the cold again if I want a chance to survive in the north.”
Kyros remains silent. He follows her down the path towards the northern gate, where the river cuts along the street to form a canal. Kyros has not seen a boat sail down it for many years now, not since horses have now become a commodity.
Cathra stops to gaze into the river. “Maybe the Lord Commander will give you a pardon if we can prove to him you're not as useless as most others,” she says, facing the rippling water.
“I have no interest in staying anywhere you’re not.” Kyros surprises himself with how earnest he sounds. It may be the ale, but he feels a need to let the words spill, and let Cathra see him for the man he is.
This is as good a time as any.
“I’ve known you for almost a decade now, Cathra,” he begins, letting his pounding heart guide his tongue. “And I’ve never stopped thinking about you all that time. Even when you were away to serve the king, I thought about you constantly.”
Cathra does not move and her eyes do not leave the surface of the river. But she is listening.
“But even so,” Kyros goes on, “after all this time, I still don’t know why you were in the Dragonspine Mountains in the first place, and why you came to Kesrock all those years ago, hungry and hurt and alone. I don’t know where you came from, or who your parents are.” He takes in a deep breath, steadying his next words. “But I think I would like that to change, Cathra. I think I would like it if I got to know more about you, and if we could become closer.”
He reaches across the gap between them for Cathra’s hand, a gesture he’s been building up the courage to do since leaving the Black Raven. “Cathra, I think I’ve fallen-”
“Don’t.”
Cathra’s hand slips away, and Kyros feels his heart go cold.
“Don’t finish those words.” Cathra shakes her head, and the wind catches her hair. A lock flutters across her eyes, but she makes no move to tuck it away. For a long moment, she just stares at the water, biting the bottom of her lip. “You can’t say those things. It’ll just make it harder on the both of us.”
“That won’t change how I feel,” Kyros argues. “I know what happened with the Lord Commander wasn’t the best outcome, but when I was there standing up for you, Cathra, I surprised myself with how ready I was to defend you, to the death even.” He steps towards her. “But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realized that I shouldn’t have been surprised at all. I care a great deal about you, Cathra Stelias.”
Cathra turns to him. “How can you have time to be thinking about useless things like that?” She softens when she sees the earnestness in Kyros's face. “I was just joking around in the tavern. I never expected you to take it seriously.”
Kyros does not want to believe what he is hearing. Was all of that a joke then? Being angry at the waitress, looking at him like that. Surely, there must be a shred of truth somewhere.
“You can't really mean that Cathra, all lies are based in-”
Cathra’s hands ball into fists and for a second Kyros thinks she’ll hit him. “Don’t you get it, Kyros? You’ll never survive outside these walls with that attitude. The North will take your squishy warm little heart and crush it till it finishes bleeding. The last thing in this world you should be doing is getting close to me.” She stops abruptly to look at him, and all the fire in her eyes seems to go out at once. “We need to catch the Blood Devil. Not for my sake, but yours.”
The sudden change in topic takes Kyros for a loop and he doesn’t know what to say. When he recovers from the shock, Cathra has already turned down the street again.
Kyros follows Cathra down the empty street at a distance, a foreign emptiness filling the gap between them. To their left, the Ryugon river flows unhindered, separated from dry land by nothing more than steep banks and an iron railing. The water masks the sounds of their footsteps, and the wind seems to steal Kyros’s voice whenever he tries to speak, so he waits for Cathra to break the silence.
“I’ve found out why he wants to send me to the Battlefront.”
Kyros jogs up to Cathra. “You mean the Lord Commander?”
Cathra nods, flinging wisps of dark hair around her. “The Battlefront is short on people. You know this.”
“I do,” Kyros agrees.
“What you might not know is that the shortage brings with it a vacuum of power, and Kesrock is not the only city in Gandolia eager to fill that space with their own people. So, even if we find the Blood Devil and somehow bring it down, it won’t be enough if the investigators behind my supposed treason were to search my office and come across a certain, oh I don’t know, how about a notebook detailing the plans to assassinate the King?” She gives him a rueful smile. “Seems like something that can be fabricated easily enough in a week’s time.”
“Cathra!” Kyros exclaims, cutting in front of her. “Do you know what you’re alluding to?” He tries to grab hold of her, but Cathra shrugs him off and keeps going down the street. “You’re drunk, Cathra. Let’s go home.”
“I’m not wrong, Kyros. Drunk, perhaps. But not wrong.”
Kyros has no choice but to let Cathra keep walking. They’ve already left the residential area, and only empty warehouses border their path now.
But even walls have ears...
Kyros will always be the first to admit how little he knows about the politics behind the banner he serves, but the same cannot be said about Cathra’s grasp and maneuverability on the same matters. She did not get to where she is on birthright; that is common knowledge among the Knights.
So, Kyros asks, “If what you say will come true, and I hardly believe myself when I say this but…” He casts a cautionary look around at the empty buildings, their windows dark from the lack of lanterns, and continues in a whisper, “If the Lord Commander might do such a thing as plant false evidence against you, it puts the integrity of our entire organization into question. Do you know how big of a conspiracy this is?”
Cathra’s lips thin into a grim line. “I know the Lord Commander better than most,” she says, but does not seem to want to elaborate. Kyros starts to press, but Cathra stops walking and drops into a crouch so suddenly he almost trips over her.
“What are you doing?” he asks, watching Cathra as she plays in the dirt. “Do you need to… relieve yourself?”
“Now that’s a thing to say to a woman,” Cathra muses, and drags her fingers through the dirt that makes up most northern roads in the city. “This is a good place.”
“For... what?”
“For the Blood Devil.” Cathra rises and stumbles into Kyros. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “I… am a little dizzy, it seems.” She pushes away from him and carries on a few more steps before crouching down again. This time she takes a dagger from her belt and stabs it into the dried dirt so it stands, hilt facing the sky.
Kyros watches in silence as Cathra starts walking away from the dagger, counting to herself as she takes even steps; as even as she can in her current state.
"Six... seven... eight..."
On "Sixteen," she reaches the wall of the nearest building, a brick storage room with an iron-enforced door. "Too far," she says to nobody in particular, and then goes back for her dagger only to repeat the process further down the street.
After a few excruciatingly long cycles of this, Kyros is almost convinced Cathra has lost her mind. "I think you should go home," he tells her when she comes back for her dagger, this time stuck in a patch of dead weeds growing in the cracked path. "It's getting late."
"Huh?" Cathra turns and blinks at him. "I thought you left."
Kyros tries to give Cathra his best stop-this-nonsense look. "I'm not going to just leave you here. Are you insane?"
Cathra snickers. "I think so too," she says, and comes over to Kyros. But she forgets about her dagger and trips on it, toppling straight into Kyros's arms.
“You need to go home and sleep,” Kyros says, holding down the heat rising through his body as Cathra pushes against him. She is much softer than he expects; much softer than she looks on the outside. He waits for her to detach from him like last time, but to his baffled horror, Cathra moves the other way, pressing into him.
He feels her arms wrap around his neck.
“I have an idea.” Hot breath tickles against Kyros's ear, and his mind goes numb. “Let's go back to my place.”
“C-cathra,” Kyros says shakily, “are you really sure you want that?” He gulps down a wave of nervous flutters as his heart stutters into a pile of hot goop. She is so close he can smell the wine in her.
This isn’t right, he thinks, forcing his mind to work. I’ll be disgracing my honor. She already made it clear she isn't interested. Or was that a joke too?
As Kyros debates on what the best course of action might be, he feels Cathra’s warm lips graze his earlobe, and then all his common sense floats away into the wind.
"Of course I am." He hears the smile in Cathra's voice, that low, alluring growl again. “How else am I going to show you my plans to catch the Blood Devil otherwise?”