Chapter Text
Today
Constantin put his hands on her shoulders and she could see in his gray eyes how reluctant he was to let Emile and her go. But darkness had already fallen hours ago and he had to get up early the next morning.
“Very well, my dears, sleep well,” he finally said, before pulling her into his arms and giving her a brief hug. Amalia returned the embrace and held on to him for a moment. Constantin had always had a talent for making his hugs seem like he was protecting her from the whole world.
“You sleep well too,” she finally said, before pulling away from him a little reluctantly. Then she stepped aside so that Emile could hug him too. She stood not far from Kurt, which promptly triggered an unease in her stomach.
“I will see you tomorrow for lunch," Emile finally promised, before breaking away from Constantin as well.
“I will try not to count the hours,” her eldest cousin replied and smiled, but it did not dispel the melancholy expression on his face.
Nevertheless, they set off in the direction of the embassy. Emile and she did not say a word as they walked down the stairs followed by Kurt and finally left the palace. She suspected that her youngest cousin's mind was already somewhere else. Or rather: with someone else. Because it seemed that Vasco and he had finally found each other. It had already been obvious to her on the boat how much he liked the naut and that the captain had his eye on him too. Why it had taken all this time here on the island before they had finally kissed was a mystery to her. The two of them had fared better than she had when it came to romance. But nobody knew that except Kurt and her, because she had not told any of her cousins what had happened between the soldier and her. Emile probably suspected that there was a disagreement between them, because the mercenary had only asked Vasco and him to train today. When her younger cousin had asked if Amalia did not want to join, the guardsman had only replied with a quick sideways glance at her that she would find someone in the garrison who suited her.
She was not entirely sure whether he was merely referring to a training partner or to the mercenary who had tried to bed her back then. He probably was not, because Kurt was not mean. Apart from the fact that he had avoided her since the kiss, barely gave her a glance and only referred to her by her title in public. That is, if he addressed her at all.
She heard his footsteps behind her, steady and familiar, just as they always had been, and yet there was this tugging in her stomach. Kurt had always made her feel safe and relaxed. When he was there, nothing bad could happen. Now she had upset him because she had given in to an impulse. An impulse that she still felt when she was around him. And even when she was not. The noblewoman had wanted to find out whether the closeness between Kurt and her was perhaps not based on the same intimacy that connected her to Constantin and Emile. And unlike the first inkling years ago, when she had noticed that the soldier was quite attractive, this time Amalia was sure it was not the simple boredom that usually drew her to new suitors. It could have been the case on the ship, but at that time she had thought he was just a third cousin to her. And she was just a little excited to be around him because it would have been a novelty for her, despite all the time they had spent together.
But that did not explain why he kept coming up in her thoughts, even when she was busy with other things. Nor did it explain why she sometimes felt dizzy in his presence. Not in an unpleasant way. It reminded her a little of the time one of her conquests had shown her how to smoke tobacco. She had inhaled too deeply the third or fourth time and coughed so much afterwards that her throat had hurt for two days. But the moment immediately afterwards had been accompanied by a pleasant numbness of thought, almost as if there was nothing at all to worry about ever again.
Well - that had been once, because what was certain was that since the kiss, not only did she know that was far from all she wanted to do with Kurt, but she also knew that he did not give a damn about her. He was not rude, but that was exactly what bothered her. No jokes, not even at her expense, just the bare minimum of conversation.
She thought she felt his gaze on her back as they entered the embassy, but when she turned around, he was locking the front door. And when Kurt finished that, he was looking in the direction of the salon, from which Vasco had just stepped out- not at her.
“You’re already back,” Emile greeted him and she could see her cousin trying to keep his smile in check. For whatever reason. Even if his happiness gave her a little twinge of envy, she was glad that he was finally with someone, and that he didn’t need to worry about what their uncle would think. Somehow Emile was calmer now that he had Vasco- and not in his already quiet and withdrawn way. Rather, he was more balanced. As if it was less stressful for him to fulfill all of his obligations as Legate of the Congregation. Which he always fulfilled anyway, without a single complaint.
“I was about to say the same thing,” the captain replied and for a moment the two men just looked at each other. Amalia could not prevent a small grin from forming nmon her face.“Why not give me your frock coat so you two can go upstairs?”
As was to be expected, Emile blushed and almost choked on his tongue, while Vasco's smile just widened.
“I'll make sure to keep it decent,” the Naut replied.
“I make no great emphasis on ‘decent’. Just be good to him,” she said, throwing him a glance over her cousin's shoulder as she helped Emile out of the garment.
“He does that. And thank you,” her cousin replied with a quick glance at the frock coat.
“Up you go. And sleep well - eventually,” she said with a meaningful grin. He shook his head slightly, but took the sailor's hand and headed for the stairs.
“I still have to put out the lights in the salon,” he objected. They had released the staff before they had left for Constantin. Vasco had wanted to eat with old comrades and they hadn't needed to do so themselves. So such things were now their own responsibility. Just like hanging up their overclothes. But it was better this way, why should the servants wait for them to return if they did not need them after all? Even if it had taken Kurt's harsh reminder weeks ago for her to realize such things.
“I will take care of that,” she interjected and nodded to Vasco. He returned the gesture and thanked her, then Emile and Vasco finally turned towards the stairs that lead to the upper floor. She knew her cousin never slept with anyone straight away. But perhaps they were sleeping in the same bed - small steps.
Amalia turned to the small wardrobe next to the staircase, which Kurt had just left. The guardsman had stored his equipment there. Now he was only wearing a simple shirt, his pants and his boots. His gaze wandered briefly to her and then immediately to the side again, but she stepped towards him.
“ Do you have a few more minutes? I would like to talk to you in the salon as soon as I have hung this up,” she turned to him.
The soldier returned her gaze for a moment. “What for?”
Just a short word, but uttered so heartlessly that it stung her. “Do I need a reason to talk to you now?” she replied.
“I don't know that we have anything to say to each other.”
“Really? How can you pretend it didn’t happen...” she broke off when she realized that she was mumbling to herself. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Aunt Josette would have scolded her for such an obvious display of weakness. But her aunt wasn't here and this was by far the least of Amalia's problems.
Finally, she looked at the soldier again: “I would like to apologize to you and I thought a conversation in the salon would be more appropriate than in the entrance hall. There are fewer servants passing by who might think it was a failed liaison.” Her voice had become sharper again towards the end, although she had resolved to remain calm.
The soldier's eyebrows furrowed briefly before he said, “All right.” Then he walked past her.
The ambassador took a deep breath, but started moving again. She felt how her hands had become a little sweaty from nerves, but she was not going to let that stop her. The noblewoman hung Emile's and her frock coat each on a hanger - even if she still found it awkward - before following the mercenary. When she entered the salon, Kurt was standing next to one of the armchairs, his back facing the windows. The shutters were already closed, the oil lamps on the walls bathed the room in a soft light, but it did not necessarily make his face look more yielding. Whenever he was this serious, she started to really notice the scars. Not in a repulsive way, but not in a pleasant way either, like back in training after the tavern brawl. His gaze was waiting and even though she tried not to let it show, it took all her courage to look him in the eye and say: “So... as I just said, I do apologize. I crossed a line with that kiss two days ago. I should not have done that. And you are right: I should have thought about it beforehand. I am sorry that I put you in an uncomfortable situation for you.” She knew it was a very complicated way of putting it, but since the guardsman could almost always see through her lies, she wasn't sure if 'putting you in an uncomfortable situation' would have been too little. After all, apart from the outcome, it had not been at all unpleasant for her.
The soldier furrowed his eyebrows. “It took you two days to come up with that?”
“I was also thinking about how to get out of this. Since I assume you still insist on consequences for me, I suggest that I train exclusively in the garrison for another month. After that, I would like to train with you again.”
Kurt then crossed his arms: “You really think you can get out of this that easily?”
Now it was her turn to furrow her eyebrows: “What exactly do you think would be appropriate?”
His behavior irritated her. Not necessarily that he obviously did not want to kiss her. The realization hurt - but mostly she just tried not to give it any space. And of course he had punished them all at training for deliberate mistakes, but more in the form of more push-ups, extra training or repetitions until he thought they were doing it right. It was the fact that he was now depriving her of training with him, after advocating her earlier re-entry into training years ago, that hurt her so much.
The guardsman remained silent for a moment and just as it looked as if he was about to say something in reply, she interjected: “And please remember that it could have been worse. Yes, the garden was not the most private place for it, but at least I did not kiss you in the tavern in front of half the garrison.”
His face seemed to freeze for a blink, but at least he lowered his arms shortly after.
“Three months.”
“Three?!” she echoed, but when she saw his expression lock up again, she raised her hands defensively, “All right. Three months. In exchange, you stop calling me by my title from tomorrow.”
“You're asking for an apology and setting conditions in the same breath?” he followed up.
“We both know that you use titles like a weapon and I think I have taken enough blows with it. I miss the way we treat each other. Even your usual 'I'm only here because I'm paid to be', which I usually hate. Because it makes me feel like one of those dainty nobles. Or is that all I am to you now? Is Amal dead to you?” It was only when she had said it that she realized how scared she was of his answer. She had no idea what to do if he insisted that this was exactly how things would continue between them.
He looked at her for a moment longer. Finally, he expelled the air and shook his head, “No. She's just being stubborn. As always.”
The noblewoman felt relief wash through her and for a moment she did not know what to say. Her stomach churned as if she had eaten something wrong. The way it had before she had kissed him.
“That should come as no surprise to you after all these years.”
“I suppose,” was all he said in return.
“Then... is everything all right? I know it takes time for things to get back to normal after a fight. At least I feel that way with Constantin and Emile.”
Kurt's eyebrows furrowed a little again, but he looked rather doubtful: “You ever argued with them?”
“A few times? Most of the time it was my fault, which should come as no surprise to you either,” she replied with a grin.
The guardsman shook his head again, but it looked resigned and not as if he was denying anything: “No, indeed it is not a surpise.”
“Then I will not keep you any longer. Thank you for talking to me. And... sleep well,” she said and nodded at him, trying not to let her excitement show.
Kurt returned the gesture, even if it still seemed a little stiff.
“You too,” he replied before walking past her and leaving the salon. Amalia looked after him and tried to bring some calm back into her emotional life. But somehow the last two words had only upset everything even more. As if they were confirmation that everything would be all right again.