Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

For all the experience with high Vor society that Ekaterin had gained in the last few months, galactic culture still overwhelmed her. She had to force herself not to stop short at the sheer range of people and clothing and cultures represented as she and Ivan entered the Residence the next night. Betans, wearing garments that were conservative for them and borderline scandalous for Barrayar; the flowing, comfortable, brightly colored clothing of the Escobaran delegates; dozens of other guests whose planetary origins she couldn't even guess at; and – yes, goodness, that was a painted Cetagandan ghem officer talking to Miles.

"Are you hungry?" Ivan asked solicitously, with a gesture toward the appetizers.

"No," she said. "I've eaten more this week than I usually do in two. Everyone seems to want to honor the Emperor and Lord Vorkosigan by stuffing us senseless."

"Hmm," said Ivan in agreement. "Wine then?"

"Yes, please."

He fetched a glass of her favorite red, and then scanned the room. "Is that . . . yes, it is. Huh."

"What?" she said, following his gaze to the ghem officer and Miles, who looked up at that moment and gestured them over.

"General Benin, you remember my cousin, Captain Ivan Vorpatril," Miles said.

"Of course," the ghem general said, smiling genially.

"And this is Madame Ekaterin Vorsoisson," Miles continued.

"A pleasure to meet you," Benin said, smiling. With his face paint he looked . . . intimidating. Which she supposed was the point.

"General Benin and I were just discussing . . . old times." There was a slightly manic gleam in Miles's eye.

Ivan looked like he could have happily hopped the next ship bound for anywhere but here. Ekaterin suspected she really didn't want to know; she was certain she wouldn't be told, in any case. "This isn't your usual post, is it, General? Diplomacy, I mean," Ivan said.

"No," Benin said. "But the opportunity was so unique, I couldn't pass it up."

"How was the news of the engagement received on Cetaganda?" Ekaterin asked with interest.

"Hmm," Benin said. "I'm not sure the general populace took much notice. The reaction of the Celestial Garden was . . ." He paused. "Bemusement. Some personages were especially surprised."

Miles's lips quirked. "My goal in life, keeping the Cetagandan Empire on its toes."

"There was some speculation, of course," the ghem-General added. "About the, ah, felicitous timing."

"Ah," Miles said. "Androgenesis," he explained to Ekaterin. "The engagement was recent," he told Benin blandly.

"I see," Benin said, in an odd tone. Ekaterin had the distinct impression that there was a great deal of conversation going on that she was missing. Benin and Miles were exchanging an inscrutable look, and Ivan looked rather . . . stuffed. She bit her lip and took a sip of wine. There were some things she just didn't need to know.

The state dinner was a somewhat different experience than the more social events she usually attended at the Residence. For one thing, there was no dancing afterward, since Lady Alys wanted everyone fresh for tomorrow. This intention was rather defeated, however, by the plans she had heard Miles discussing with Ivan to go take over a bar with his guests and get traditionally and Vorishly drunk.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with me tonight?" Ivan asked as they went to leave, much earlier than normal. "We could go over to the Residence together in the morning."

"No, you have fun with Miles and his friends. I'm just going to go home and go to sleep." She glanced over and saw Elena and Admiral Quinn chatting with Miles's mother. "Have Miles and Admiral Quinn made up then?"

"I don't think so," Ivan said, following her gaze. "More like a cease fire."

His groundcar dropped her at her aunt and uncle's house, and she waved good-bye before going inside. She undressed and pulled on an old pair of her uncle's shipknits, before dropping down in front of her comconsole. She wanted to check the weather for tomorrow. It was supposed to be beautiful, but if it was going to be especially warm she needed to make sure that someone watered the garden early in the morning –

The gardens. Drat.

Ekaterin stared blankly at her comconsole screen. She had meant to take one last tour through them this afternoon, but with everything else, it just hadn't happened. And then she had thought to do it either before or after dinner and had completely forgotten.

She should go to bed, she thought. And then a second later she knew she would just spend hours lying there, staring at the ceiling and wondering if this and that last minute touch had been botched somehow. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. She looked at her chrono, sighed heavily, and got up to change back into her clothes. If she went over there now, she could be back in an hour and catch enough sleep not to be bleary eyed in the morning.

"Ekaterin?" her aunt said from where she sat reading in a pool of yellow lamplight in the living room.

"I'm just going back over to check the gardens, Aunt Helen," Ekaterin said.

"Dear, I'm sure they're fine."

"I won't be able to sleep if I don't. I should be back soon, but don't wait up."

"But, Ekaterin . . ."

Ekaterin let herself out and found the autocab she'd called waiting for her. It was probably obsessive, and it wasn't like the Imperial groundskeepers weren't the most competent people in their profession, but all the same . . .

The Imperial Residence was quiet and dark after the bustle of the state dinner. Apparently the galactic guests had been packed off to wherever they were staying in the interim. The Emperor was probably out with Miles and his friends. She bet they had commandeered a bar by now and were drinking themselves silly – though she hoped that Miles and the Emperor were sensible enough not to give themselves hangovers on their wedding day.

The agents stiffened as she approached, but her ID checked out and her name was on the "all clear" list, so they let her through with an escort, who deposited her in the gardens with a courtly bow. She set out along one of the softly illuminated paths, checking plants and soil consistency as she went, pulling the occasional errant weed. Without quite realizing it, she found herself standing in front of the waterfall and pool area again, and, once more, the bench was occupied.

"Sire?" Ekaterin said, coming up short.

"Madame Vorsoisson," he said, slurring her last name slightly. "What are you doing here?" He was slumped over, the wine glass in his hand dangling precariously from his fingers. Ekaterin eyed the empty bottle and the unhappy slouch of his shoulders and thought, Why me? Why do I always get stuck with him when he's drunk and miserable? Where are his ImpSec agents? Where are his Armsmen? Where is Miles?

Miles was unreachable. So was Ivan. Ekaterin could probably call the Countess, but she winced at the thought of waking her after midnight, and she didn't want to leave the Emperor out here alone like this anyway.

"I came to check the garden," she said, answering his question only a few seconds late. "What are you doing here?"

He blinked and looked around, as though surprised to find himself outside by the pond. "I don't know," he said, with surprising clarity. He squinted at her. "The gardens are fine. Very pretty. Oh, my apologies. Wine?" He held his glass out to her. She accepted it, because he clearly didn't need to drink anymore of the dark red. She took an experimental sip and was not surprised to find that it was excellent. She doubted there was a bottle of bad wine anywhere within a mile of here.

"If you wanted to get drunk, you should have gone with Miles and Ivan," she said as he moved over to make room for her on the bench.

He shook his head. "Too many people," he said, looking so miserable that instinct made her reach out and take his hand. He looked surprised for a moment, and then his fingers closed over hers. "And Admiral Quinn," he added, voice laden with some indefinable emotion.

"Ah," she said. "I thought she and Miles weren't speaking."

The Emperor shrugged. "Don't know. I don't like the way she looks at me – the way she looked at me," he corrected. "Last night."

Ekaterin frowned. "I don't remember her looking at you at all."

"Yes, she did. It was . . ." He didn't finish, frowning deeply. "May I have my glass, please?"

She handed it over and he swallowed the rest. Then he held up the bottle. There was about an inch of dark liquid left in the bottom, and he poured it carefully.

"She was upset," Ekaterin said after a moment.

"Yes. She was right, too." The Emperor sighed. "I hate all this sometimes," he muttered. "But it's the only thing I can do. The only thing I'm qualified for. Strange, isn't it?"

Ekaterin had certainly never thought of it that way. "Hmm," was all she said.

There was a long silence. "I tried to run away once," the Emperor said at last. "I jumped off a balcony. And then Miles found me and brought me back, and I fell in love with him. I was twenty-five." He stared into his glass. "Probably I shouldn't have told you that. But it's how it seems like it's always been with Miles. I jump off a balcony and he brings me back, and risks his life doing it. He doesn't care about his life, but I care about it. And I might be the death of him. Almost was once already, and we're not even married yet." There was a long, fraught silence, while Ekaterin tried to think of something to say, before he added, softly, "Quinn put him in a cryochamber once, with her own hands. I couldn't . . ." He trailed off and, once more, didn't finish his sentence.

"I think," Ekaterin said at last, "that we should go inside."

The Emperor nodded. "Kitchen," he said.

"Er," Ekaterin said. "What?"

"The kitchen." He stood up and swayed. Ekaterin grabbed him and he said, "Thank you."

They made their uneven way along the garden paths, Ekaterin supporting the Emperor and trying to keep him in as straight a line as possible. Miles, you owe me for this, she thought glumly.

Once they were inside the Residence, the Emperor did indeed start leading her in the direction of the kitchen. "Sire," Ekaterin said a bit desperately.

"Gregor," the Emperor said.

"What?"

"Not 'Sire,' Gregor. Please."

"Um."

"I'm drunk off my Imperial Ass," he said succinctly. "I'm nobody's 'Sire' right now."

"Okay," Ekaterin said. She swallowed and said, "Gregor – shouldn't you be going to bed? You're getting married tomorrow."

"No, I need to think. And I'm hungry. Kitchen." He turned abruptly and pushed through a swinging door. Ekaterin sighed and followed him through, and found herself in a sea of stainless steel, chrome, and state of the art kitchen implements of all kinds. She blinked, staring down at the long row of tables and sinks and everything that the most discerning chef could possibly want at his or her disposal – several times over – and felt slightly overwhelmed.

The Emperor was rummaging through one of the pantries. "Ah," he said, coming up with a brand of snack foods that Nikki loved and Ekaterin only let him have once a week at most. "Would you like some?"

"No, thank you, Sire – Gregor."

He hitched himself up onto one of the clear counters. Many of them were taken up by neatly stacked refrigeration trays, for tomorrow, Ekaterin realized. He hadn't turned on any overhead lights, but by the greenish illuminations from all the oven displays she could see a row of metal doors along one wall, probably leading to walk-in refrigerators and freezers. How much food, she wondered a little dizzily, did it take to feed over two thousand guests?

"By some people's reckoning," said the Emperor, "we got engaged here."

Ekaterin blinked. "That's not the story I've heard."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Public relations claptrap. By all rights, we've been engaged for over four years. Conservatives would like that."

"I . . . wouldn't tell them," she said cautiously. She approached him, leaned uncertainly on the edge of the counter. "Gregor. Do you think perhaps you should have a few glasses of water and possibly a sleep timer? I know Miles would be none too pleased if you showed up tomorrow all bloodshot."

"Tomorrow," he said, almost in a whisper, and once again Ekaterin had no idea what he was thinking. If she hadn't known better, she'd have said that he was frightened.

"Aren't you looking forward to it?" she asked, and almost bit her tongue. Of course he was; he was the most eagerly attentive groom she'd ever seen. It was completely unthinkable that he might be having cold feet.

"It's just a ceremony," he said. "It . . . I am already his, in every way that matters."

"Oh," said Ekaterin. Then, greatly daring, "And is he already yours?"

"Sometimes," he breathed. "Sometimes I feel as though I have all of him, more than I can fathom, but it's all mine. And sometimes . . . he is very far away from me, and I remember that he could leave me, yet."

"He wouldn't," said Ekaterin, astonished at the very idea.

He smiled, a bleak little thing that tugged on her heart. "I didn't say he would do it willingly."

She touched his hand again; his fingers were cold. "He's fine," she said. "He gets better every day. You've seen how he's been the past few weeks, how happy he is. It's like he's on fast-forward." She'd coaxed a smile out of him, she saw with unreasoning triumph. "There may still be bad days. There may always be bad days. But would you trade all of that for having him here with you, for the life you're going to have?" She certainly couldn't, she knew. She had him as a friend only, and at that he had become essential with frightening rapidity. What it must be to have him as a lover was something she thought about with far less frequency these days. What it was to lose him she did not want to think about at all. She suspected Elli Quinn could tell her a great deal about that.

"No," said the Emperor. "Not a single second of it. But I don't think I'm –"

"Nonsense," said Ekaterin firmly. It occurred to her only afterward that she had just interrupted him. She plowed right on through the momentary mortification. "Enough. You're getting married tomorrow. And if I had just met you tonight for the first time and knew nothing about you, I would still welcome you like my own brother. Because he's chosen to have you, and I think he's a man of extraordinary wisdom. So you must be extraordinary too. And I really don't think extraordinary people need to be sitting and drinking in the dark the night before their wedding," she finished, a little lamely, perhaps.

He stared at her for several long, agonizing ticks. At last, just as she was beginning to jibber a little internally, he dropped his head and laughed a genuine laugh into the bag of snacks.

"Oh," he said, on a long sigh. "No wonder he likes you. I had wondered, a little."

"Er," said Ekaterin.

"You're right," he said, looking up again. He was not quite smiling, but something had eased about his mouth and eyes. Ekaterin let out a covert breath, aware only in its absence that he had carried a cloud of tense misery around him like a pressure front. "I should go to bed. Tomorrow will be . . . my wedding day." He did smile then.

"Good," she said, maintaining the firm tone with a small effort. "Shall I . . . help you upstairs?"

He never answered her. As he was sliding off the counter there came a sound which took Ekaterin several seconds to identify as the rubberized seal on one of the walk-in refrigerators giving way. One of the doors swung open, an opaque block in the dimness. A light should have come on when it opened, Ekaterin thought, with the part of her mind that hadn't quite caught up yet. A figure slipped out from the refrigerator, indistinct and utterly unidentifiable from across the dark room.

All three of them froze for a fraction of a second. Then things began happening very quickly. The Emperor made a small, indescribable sound and the fingers of one hand clamped onto the unobtrusive wristband he wore. Ekaterin lunged, muddy shoes sliding a little on the tile as she put her body between him and the my God was that an assassin who had been lying in wait in the refrigerator? The Emperor was taller than her, she thought – was she supposed to get him down onto the floor, or should they run? Being ready to die for him was all well and good, she thought in a moment of sudden, poignant despair, but what was supposed to happen when you didn't know how?

Then the shadowy figure sprang into action, and darted across the kitchen . . . away from them. In a quiet patter of shoes it was gone out a small side exit.

The overhead lights snapped on and Ekaterin whirled, one hand coming up to shield her eyes. Armsmen, she saw, with a wave of relief enough to make her knees weak. Armsmen and blessed, wonderful ImpSec agents with their marvelous staring Horus-eyes.

"I'm fine," said the Emperor, as they were surrounded. He sounded extraordinarily calm.

"There was a . . . someone," said Ekaterin, and pointed helplessly from the door of the refrigerator to the exit.

Orders flew and men took off in all directions. A dozen more arrived, armed to the teeth and appearing mildly ridiculous in amongst the kitchen paraphernalia, as if they were readying to take down a dangerous appetizer rebellion.

"The food," said the Emperor suddenly. He was staring at the refrigerator, Ekaterin saw, even as they were both hurried from the room. "He was in there with the food for tomorrow." There was a strange, clinical sort of look on his face.

"We'll check it, Sire. If you could please . . ."

Ekaterin found herself swept along with him. They ended up in his own apartments, though she heard some undervoiced discussion of moving him to ImpSec HQ. He stood in the center of his sitting room, watching the controlled scramble around him through impenetrable eyes and speaking only when spoken to.

Silent running, thought Ekaterin, the term popping up out of Nikki's endless expositions. He was like a ship with half its vital systems shut down in a state of last ditch emergency or stealth, trying to limp by on dwindling resources or slide through a minefield of enemies undetected. There was such a flat, functionally vacant look behind his eyes, it gave her chills.

The furor finally began to die down about fifteen minutes later, after Ekaterin and the Emperor had both given their accounts and ImpSec had managed to convince itself that the Emperor was unharmed. There remained after that a mere five agents, two stationed outside the door and three inside the sitting room with them. The Emperor finally sank into a chair and leaned back. His face was very pale. Ekaterin discreetly asked one of the agents if she could fetch some water. He requested that she stay put and signaled for a servant.

General Allegre, rather more rumpled than Ekaterin had ever seen him, appeared about two minutes later, just behind the servant with the water pitcher.

"Sire," he said, and then, with some surprise, "Madame Vorsoisson."

The Emperor didn't say anything. Ekaterin poured him a glass of water, went over, and closed his fingers around it. He raised it rather mechanically to his mouth and drank. She looked up and saw General Allegre watching this byplay with considerable concern. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged helplessly.

"We don't know anything yet, Sire," Allegre said, though the Emperor hadn't asked. "We're still searching the perimeter. I'm afraid," he added to Ekaterin, "that we must lockdown the Residence for the time being." She nodded.

"He can't have gotten far," the Emperor said at last. He glanced toward Ekaterin. "I'll have someone make up a guest room for you."

"I'm fine, Sire," she said. "I think I'll wait here with you for a bit, if you don't mind." Allegre shot her a grateful look.

"Let me know when you find anything," the Emperor said to Allegre, who nodded and bowed himself out. Ekaterin glanced uncertainly at the agents, and then seated herself on a chair a few feet away. There was a long stretch of silence. The Emperor finished his glass of water and Ekaterin poured him some more.

"Well," he said after quite awhile. "It finally happened. I'm almost relieved."

Ekaterin, who had been drifting off in her chair, snapped awake and tried to pull herself together. "What happened?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound sleep-rough.

"The . . . " The Emperor gestured with his glass. "The bad thing . . . I was expecting something, I just didn't know what." He sighed. "It was making me very tired, I think, waiting for that."

"Yes," Ekaterin said carefully. She could certainly see how constantly anticipating an impending disaster of some kind could be tiring. "But why? Sire –"

"Gregor," he corrected.

She swallowed, glanced nervously toward the agents. "Gregor," she said, "Miles is fine."

"For now," he said. He looked away. "It's just . . . it's not allowed."

"Um," she said. He looked better, she realized, but he was still very drunk. He was just sitting down now, so it wasn't quite as noticeable. It was alarming, but Ekaterin couldn't help thinking that perhaps it wasn't a terrible thing – she knew him well enough to know that this sort of confession was very uncharacteristic. It could only help, surely? "Drink more water, please, Gregor. What isn't allowed?"

"I'm not allowed to . . . keep people."

"Oh," said Ekaterin. She was struck by the shape of his sentences. He was not a man who was supposed to feel a victim; he was the one who acted on the universe, not the other way around.

"I wonder," he said speculatively. "Poison, in the dessert course perhaps. Thousands of guests to drop dead at once, the entire Komarran council, the Viceroys, the Betan President-elect, a galactic disaster? Or perhaps something more personal for my table alone, something special to make the wedding night truly unforgettable?"

"Stop it," said Ekaterin with unintended sharpness. He didn't seem to notice and she took a careful, calming breath. "You have a vivid imagination."

He shrugged. "I'm a student of history."

Ekaterin mouthed a silent oh. His story had been tragically romantic when she was a girl, royal father a hero of battle, beautiful princess mother cut down in the bloom of youth in a war for her son's throne. Up close it wasn't romantic, it was simply tragic. What lessons had he learned so young, what had the small child thought as he was spirited away by the doomed, loyal to the very last Captain Negri? She imagined her Nikki at five, alone in the world and everyone watching, and wanted to cry.

"He's made me so happy," he said, gazing almost appealingly at her. "And I'm . . ." Terrified, she heard, as clearly as though he'd spoken it.

"Gregor," she said, gently, and with no idea what she would say next. And she never did find out, because at that moment the door to the apartment swung open and in came Miles, followed by Ivan and then a string of his guests. They were babbling to each other, their voices incomprehensible and baffling to Ekaterin's ears, and they were all very, very drunk. Including Ivan, who stopped short at the sight of her, appearing distinctly flummoxed, and Miles, who made a beeline for his fiancé. The Emperor had paled at the onslaught and now looked as though he were wishing quite fervently that he were dead.

"Gregor, what is going on?" Miles asked, only tripping a little on his way over. He launched himself sloppily to a seat on the arm of Gregor's chair, clutching a bit desperately at him for balance. "Are you all right? You smell like wine." He gave the Emperor a reproachful look. "You should have come with us if you wanted to drink."

"There was someone in the kitchen," the Emperor said, apparently managing to untie his tongue. "In the refrigerator."

"Oh," Miles said, nonplussed. "That isn't good."

"No," the Emperor agreed. "And you, by the way, smell like whiskey."

"As well I should," Miles returned cheerfully, apparently sufficiently diverted from the topic of possible assassination.

"Miles," Admiral Quinn said loudly, "what is going on?"

"There was someone in the refrigerator," Miles relayed, and turned back to the Emperor.

Ekaterin thought they deserved a bit more of an explanation. "Someone was seen in the kitchens near the food. It's being checked for – for damage."

Miles turned. "Ekaterin, what are you doing here?"

I'm sure I don't know. "I came to check the gardens."

"Ah," Miles said, and eyed the Emperor shrewdly. "And stayed to drag Gregor's drunken ass up the stairs?"

"Well," she said awkwardly. "We detoured to the kitchen first."

Miles gave a snort of laughter, and leaned unselfconsciously into the Emperor's chest. The other guests were starting to make themselves at home in the sitting room, spreading out over the furniture. Flasks began appearing and changing hands with alarming rapidity. Ekaterin surveyed the scene and had a sudden but overwhelming sense of impending doom. The Emperor caught her eye and gave her a pleading look, as though she were supposed to be able to do something.

"I'm sorry," Ivan said suddenly at her shoulder. He, too, smelled strongly of whiskey.

"Go . . . sit," she said, and stepped over to ask for several more pitchers of water. Then, with one last glance at Elli Quinn, who sat passing a flask back and forth with Bel Thorne, and a reassuring palm-down gesture to the Emperor, she slipped into the dim corridor. Surely there must be a private console somewhere about.

All the doors were closed. Ekaterin chewed her lip, debated, and kept walking. A dim light emanated from around a bend, and she hurried for it, relieved that she wouldn't have to go trying doors.

She pulled up short in the doorway, flushed, turned hastily away, then reconsidered and turned back. There was indeed a comconsole set into a cleverly cabineted desk in the corner, across the room from the bed. Ekaterin took a fortifying breath, quite as uncomfortable as she could ever remember being, and tiptoed across the pale carpeting. The room was obsessively neat, she couldn't help noticing. Ekaterin preferred a bit of comfortable clutter, herself, and it lightened her heart to see a few tiny hints of casual occupation – a handviewer tossed crookedly on one nightstand, a pair of boots too small for the Emperor peeking out from beneath the other side of the bed. Ekaterin looked determinedly away, and sat gingerly at the comconsole.

She found Lady Alys's number in the Emperor's address book, an intimidating directory of every high government official, business leader, and person of prominence in the empire. She hesitated only a moment before entering the code, remembering the look on the Emperor's face. She had no idea how to handle such a situation; she doubted that Lady Alys's extensive training had covered anything like it, but she would know how to cope with the utmost taste nevertheless.

Ekaterin had occasionally wondered what Lady Alys would look like after being woken in the middle of the night. She answered the comconsole wearing no makeup, naturally, but it seemed to make little difference. Her long dark hair was tumbled over her shoulders in a way that was quite elegant. And she looked annoyed.

"Madame Vorsoisson, why aren't you in bed?" she asked, a bit snappishly. And then, after a brief pause, "And why are you calling from Gregor's private comconsole?"

"Lady Alys, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm at the Residence and there's a bit of a . . . situation." Quickly she outlined the incident in the kitchen and then the scene in the next room. She left out Gregor's wine-induced candor. "I don't know what to do," she said at last. "I think the Emperor would really like to just take a sleeptimer and go to bed."

"He should have been asleep hours ago," Lady Alys sighed. "Sometimes, that boy . . ." She bit off whatever she was going to say. "Have someone make up a few guest rooms," she instructed. "And then break up the party and be very firm about it."

"I shouldn't try and get them to go back to Vorkosigan House, then?"

"No," she said, "no. It will be hours until ImpSec lets them go. I'll arrange to have everyone's clothes brought over to the Residence tomorrow morning. Make sure Miles and Gregor both take sleeptimers. I suppose there's no chance of getting them to sleep in separate rooms . . ."

"Um," said Ekaterin, remembering the way Miles had touched him with such casual unselfconsciousness. She suspected he might be the only person to ever do so. All things considered, perhaps that was just what the Emperor needed tonight.

"No, I thought not. Unconventional, but then, so many things about them are." She sighed. "Can you handle all that or do I need to come over?"

Ekaterin bit her lip. "I can do it," she said at last.

"Good." Lady Alys looked pleased. "And get some sleep yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes. Thank you, Lady Alys." Ekaterin cut the com and steeled herself. Then she went out and spoke to one of the ImpSec agents, who passed the word along. In very short order an appropriate number of rooms had been made up. Ekaterin then dispatched the servants to show the guests to their rooms; luckily they had started to slow down by then on their own, and most of them went yawning and willing. Ekaterin sensed the Emperor's relief once Elli Quinn had been escorted out of the room, and felt her own covert release of breath. Finally there were only herself, Ivan, the Emperor, and Miles, who sat drowsing against the Emperor's arm.

"Thank you," the Emperor said. He looked painfully sober.

"Take a sleeptimer," she replied. Ivan came and placed his hand on the small of her back. She hesitated briefly and then added, "And have good dreams." He nodded.

"All I wanted to do was check the gardens," Ekaterin groaned, once she and Ivan were alone in a guest room. She stripped down to her underwear, checked the time, and groaned again. So much for a good night's sleep. "Did you have a good time?" she asked Ivan peevishly.

"Yes," he said, apparently still too drunk to notice her tone. But he certainly caught the expression on her face, because he added quickly, "Though not as good as if you had been with us."

"Hmm," she said, mollified. She stretched out on the bed and let Ivan take care of turning the lights out. He lay down and draped an arm over her side. She thought she would sleep at once, but she didn't. Instead she lay in the dark, eyes open, and thought about the ache in the Emperor's voice as he had considered the worst possibilities, and his quiet bleakness. She imagined him holding Miles in the dark, wondering always if it would be the last time – for she was certain that those thoughts came to him nightly.

She thought she could have cheerfully slapped Elli Quinn.

Ekaterin woke much earlier than she would have liked, and lay for a moment, completely disoriented. The room was dim with watery, early morning light. She had slept about five hours, and Ivan appeared to be sleeping the deep sleep of the soon-to-be hung over. She contemplated rolling over and closing her eyes again, but then she realized that she had actually been woken by a soft knock at the door. She got up quickly and pulled the top blanket off the bed to wrap around herself so she could poke her head out the door.

It was an ImpSec sergeant. "I'm sorry to wake you, Madame Vorsoisson," he said, "but the Emperor requests your presence."

"Oh," she said. "Yes, just a moment." He nodded; she shut the door and dressed quickly. Ivan never so much as moved.

The sergeant led her to the Emperor's private apartment, bowed her inside, and took his leave. Inside the sitting room were Miles, the Emperor, General Allegre and Miles's security man, Inceri, and, to Ekaterin's surprise, Lady Alys. They were all clutching their coffee cups firmly.

"Sorry to wake you," Miles said, as Ekaterin came in and seated herself. "Coffee?"

"It's fine," Ekaterin said, accepting a cup. "Does this mean that you've figured out what happened?"

"Yes," General Allegre said. "Or, well . . . not exactly."

"Guy, it is much too early," the Emperor began wearily.

"Yes, sorry, Sire." Allegre paused, looking almost embarrassed. "Sire, it was your cook."

There was a moment of incredulous silence. "I'm sorry?" the Emperor said blankly.

"The person you saw exiting the refrigerator was your cook," Allegre said again, rather carefully.

"I don't understand," the Emperor said. "That makes no sense. Why was Trillian in there with all the lights off? Why did he run when we saw him? I mean, the kitchen is his, really, there was no reason for him to hide . . ." He trailed off, apparently catching the look of dawning comprehension on Miles's face.

"The refrigerator that was broken into," Miles said. "It held the desserts, didn't it?" Allegre nodded. "Ma Kosti's work," he said, as though it were a conclusion.

The confusion lifted from the Emperor's eyes – but then he shook his head. "I just don't . . . are you sure?"

"He approached us," Allegre said. "Confessed, as it were. He seemed quite terrified."

"Oh," the Emperor said. "Did he say why?"

General Allegre spread his hands. "He was worried about his job, afraid that you'd let him go after the wedding and take on Lord Vorkosigan's cook instead."

"So he set out to destroy her desserts?" Miles said, indignantly.

Lady Alys added, even more sharply, "Did he destroy them?"

"He apparently added a good deal of salt to the frosting that's supposed to go on the cakes," Allegre said, with all the gravity of a man discussing battle armament.

"Oh," said Lady Alys with relief. "That, we can fix."

"Where is he now?" the Emperor asked.

"We have him in custody," Allegre said, "but there's really not much of a reason to hold him. With your permission . . ."

"Let him go," the Emperor sighed. "Tell him . . . tell him I want to speak to him. Tomorrow."

"Yes, Sire," Allegre said, and he and Inceri bowed themselves out.

Lady Alys sighed. "Well, this is unfortunate. But at least it was only the frosting and not the cakes themselves." She stood. "I'll take care of things. Oh, Madame Vorsoisson, I called your aunt and uncle this morning and let them know where you were. Someone is bringing your dress over now."

"Oh no," Ekaterin said, covering her mouth with her hand, "I completely forgot to call them last night! I hope they weren't worried."

"They understood, once I explained the situation." She paused in the doorway. "You did well," she added. "My thanks."

Miles waited a beat after his aunt had left, and then turned to Ekaterin, his eyebrows raised. "High praise," he said. "I wish I could remember what you did."

"Nothing, really," she said, shaking her head.

"No, Alys is right. You handled everything very well," the Emperor said. "I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

She pictured the scene and winced. "I just did what Lady Alys told me to when I called."

"But you did it with flair," Miles said. "Or at least I think you did." He frowned briefly and then added, "Hey, where's Ivan?"

"Unconscious," Ekaterin said without thinking.

Miles quirked an eyebrow at her. "I see." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop for a moment, smiled a distinctly evil smile, and said, "I'll be back in a bit."

"Where are you going?" the Emperor asked.

Miles paused, turned, and smirked. "Paying Ivan back for a wake-up call or two." Ekaterin could hear him whistling down the hallway.

"Oh dear," she said. "That . . . can't be good."

"Probably not," the Emperor agreed, but he was smiling. "Breakfast?"

A servant brought groats and left a large basket of fruit in the middle of the table before withdrawing. Ekaterin let a slightly more generous than usual portion of butter melt on her groats before she took a bite. The Emperor peeled an orange and began taking apart its segments. Ekaterin hesitated for a long moment, watching him. "Are you feeling better, Sire?" she finally asked.

His hands stilled. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, which was not, she knew, an answer.

"Don't apologize," she said. "Everyone is sad sometimes."

He sighed. "It's been a bit more than sometimes, lately." He ate a segment of orange, swallowed, and said, "It used to be that the only people I could talk to about this were Miles and his mother. It's not generally good for word to get out that the Emperor is chronically depressed."

"No, I imagine not."

"But I can't talk to them about this. Miles is still recovering. And Cordelia has her own problems right now. I can't burden them with this." He looked down at the pile of orange peel. "I am profoundly grateful you were there last night."

"Me too," she said. She was silent for a moment, thinking. "When I was married the first time," she said at last, "I tried to learn not to show anything. I tried to lock myself up very tight all the time, so he couldn't use my emotions against me. I never quite succeeded, and for a while it made me so angry with myself, that I couldn't just turn off the need to have someone near me. I wanted someone to hold me at night, and I didn't want that person to be him, but he was all I had and I just couldn't . . . stop it." She twirled her spoon around in her dish briefly, and then looked across the table and met his eyes. "And now I'm glad I couldn't turn it off, because I think it would have been very hard to turn it back on. And I think . . . I think that you can't live your life afraid of feeling too much."

"Because it's worse not to feel anything at all?" The Emperor slumped a bit. "There have been times in my life when I would have welcomed a certain . . . numbness."

"Is now one of those times?"

Slowly he shook his head. "No," he said. "Not for all the world. But it's . . . difficult."

"Of course it is," she said, surprising even herself. "It hasn't been easy for Ivan and me, either. Slowly but surely, though, I think we're . . . going somewhere."

The Emperor smiled faintly. "I haven't had to worry about where I was going for the last four years. Miles just sort of swept me along. We had this . . . I guess you could call it a strategy meeting, years ago, when it was all just beginning. In the kitchen, actually. He just laid it all out, our entire life at my feet . . . It was the first time I truly realized that I could love him and do my duty at the same time."

Ekaterin said nothing for a moment. "Sire," she said at last. "I think you need to talk to Miles about this."

He shook his head, looking down at his hands. Ekaterin was suddenly aware of how excruciating this was for him, to show so much, and she couldn't help wondering why showing it to her was easier.

"Do you really think he doesn't know already?" She frowned at him. "He's very worried about you, you know. He said as much to me at the party the other night."

The Emperor rubbed a hand over his face. "I didn't mean to . . . damn."

She pushed her bowl of groats away and stood up decisively. "You have a few hours yet. I'd suggest taking advantage of them."

She met Miles on the way back to her room. His gleefully malicious expression drained away suddenly at the look on her face. "Is everything all right?"

Ekaterin nodded. "I think he's ready to talk to you."

"Ah." Miles straightened. "Good. Thank you."

Ivan was in the bathroom when Ekaterin returned. She firmly decided not to ask why there was a generous helping of ice spilled over half the room and melting on the carpet. She sat for a moment on the bed staring at the dress, which had been delivered and laid out in her absence. She traced the embroidered edging with her finger and ran a hand over the soft fabric of the bodice. "Beautiful illusions," she murmured.

"Did you say something?" Ivan asked.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist. Reflexively, she spent a moment admiring him. He noticed and threw her a smile that was awfully close to a smirk. "You're dripping all over the floor," she said, forcing herself to look away.

He shrugged unrepentantly and shoved the dress over to sit next to her on the bed. "So, Gregor's cook."

"Apparently." She shook her head. "I almost feel sorry for the man."

They fell into an awkward silence. Ekaterin thought of and dismissed a dozen things to say, and could almost see Ivan doing the same. She thought about the Emperor, about Miles, about strategy sessions in the Imperial Kitchen, about what it meant to be going somewhere. About what it meant to be going there with someone. About how it would feel to suddenly lose that direction, that certainty, and then imagined with frightening clarity how it would feel for Ivan to suddenly disappear from her life. She wondered when he had become not only an enjoyable distraction, but a truly integral part of the pattern of her days. "You've been very patient with me," she said suddenly.

Ivan raised his eyebrows, and then frowned. "That's not how I thought about it."

"I know. But you have been." She paused, chewing briefly on her lip. "I think we should get married," she said at last.

"Er . . . now?"

"No, not now!" she said, laughing suddenly. "One wedding today is quite enough, thank you. I don't even necessarily mean anytime in the next year. But . . . eventually, I think I would like to marry you."

"You think?" he said.

"Yes. I think."

"Well," Ivan said, and then stopped. "That wasn't quite the proposal I had imagined."

She waved an airy hand. "Oh, there's still time for you to do it right. We could consider this a . . . pre-engagement."

"Which means . . . ?"

Ekaterin sighed. "It means that I'll stop punishing you when your mother talks about us getting married and hints about grandchildren. It means I'll put up with the social lessons. It means we can start . . . negotiating."

"I see."

"If you agree, of course," Ekaterin said quickly, suddenly seized by the horrible thought that perhaps he wasn't so sure. Maybe he had bought the house because he liked the house and everyone – including her – had been reading too much into it. Maybe he didn't actually love her – they had never said it after all. Maybe . . .

"Of course I agree," he said. "I bought you a house!"

"You bought you a house," she corrected swiftly.

"Right. Of course, I'd forgotten." He was laughing at her now, but he reached out and took her hand, lifted it to his lips. She reached for him and kissed him soundly; his hand tangled very pleasingly in her hair.

The moment of privacy was short-lived. They were soon wrenched apart by the necessities of the day, and Ekaterin hurried off about her last minute duties with a curious, uncommon lightness to her heart. Ivan, still looking a little pale and fragile from his overindulgence the night before, promised to find her again and escort her to her place in the spectators, which he carried out despite her protests that her aunt and uncle and Kareen and Mark would be right there with her. He was already in his finery as they cut through the gathering crowd, and Ekaterin saw more than one head turn to track their progress – his, rather. She tucked her hand more firmly through his arm, biting her lip to conceal a swell of something that felt suspiciously like smugness. He's handsome and kind and loyal and amusing and he loves me.

He deposited her with a flourish and a kiss, then hurried away to attend upon Miles, already installed in the guesthouse from which he would emerge during the ceremony. Ekaterin greeted the people she knew – a surprising number, as it turned out – and settled in to wait. The sky was clear and blue, the high summer heat tempered by a soft, easterly wind. Ekaterin wondered with some suspicion if there hadn't been a little tampering with the weather. Not all those satellites were just for monitoring, after all.

The garden swelled with people, and yet still more streamed behind. Ekaterin, who had been nervous to the point of nausea to see the small crowd of twenty at her own wedding, held her hands down at her sides so as to not chew her nails.

And then Lady Alys glided to her place, and it was time. A hush fell, so profound that Ekaterin could hear the shuffling and murmuring of the great crowds waiting outside the grounds, packed twenty deep in the street with no hope of seeing much at all in person but wanting to be close anyway. A calculated risk had been authorized in allowing holovids to be taken and broadcasted in real-time all over the Empire. Even now, giant viewing screens erected on the intersections of major boulevards would be showing them all, standing and craning for the first glimpse.

The full score of Vorbarra Armsmen emerged first and ranged themselves in a double row up the aisle Miles and Gregor would take. And then the Emperor, lean and upright as his lovely gray horse stepped out. Henri Vorvolk paced at its head as they took a winding path around the outskirts of the crowd, then abandoned his post to go hammer on the guesthouse door and demand Miles's presence. The part did not suit him particularly well, and Ekaterin was not the only one to suppress a titter behind her hand.

Miles emerged, Ivan at his back, and his own horse was brought forward. Ivan offered him a hand up, but Miles ignored him and swung easily up into the saddle. Out of the corner of her eye Ekaterin saw Lady Alys suck in a quick breath. Miles was under the strictest orders not to wrinkle himself too badly before even making it into the wedding circle.

Miles settled himself, then leaned over and said something to the patiently waiting Gregor. Ekaterin was too far away to hear, but, reading his gestures, she rather suspected he was asking whether Gregor thought their horses could jump the garden wall if they took it at a fast enough run. Gregor laughed, then said something that made the nervous, jocular curl of Miles's mouth melt into something soft and a little wondering. And then Ivan, standing between the two horses, raised his arm and tapped his chrono at them with a remark that made them both glare.

The horses paced slowly up the aisle side by side, Seconds leading and the rest of the wedding party bringing up the rear. The two animals were luckily not sedated to the point of total gormlessness, Ekaterin saw. She wondered, as the party came abreast of her, if anyone had put thought to what to do if one of the animals decided to make a snack out of the profusion of flowers strewn about, most notably in every lady's hair. Lady Alys had thought of it, Ekaterin had no doubt.

But the party arrived at the circle without incident, and the Count and Countess and the Koudelkas took their places. Gregor swung down, and then deviated from the script as he circled his horse's head. He waved away Ivan, who had been about to offer his bent knee as a mounting block, and supplied his own cupped hands to the task. Miles arched an eyebrow as if to say, "oh you do, do you?" but placed his small boot there and swung down with no fuss. Probably this was the only time Miles would have ever taken that without comment, and Ekaterin thought for the hundredth time that Gregor was a clever, clever man. He ought to be, for this day if no other.

And then they were all there inside the circle, and Ivan kicked it shut, and Ekaterin felt herself and every other person in the audience drop from attention. It was all very quick after that, simple and direct, and so plainly fervent in the strong clasp of their hands, the quiet certainty of their voices that Ekaterin was not the only one to brush hurriedly at her eyes. Ivan was facing her across the circle, and she watched him watching them. Was that longing she read in his face? It was, she decided, longing and not a little hope.

And then it was over, and a great sigh rose up from the crowd as several thousand pent-up breaths were expelled. Ivan stepped forward first, shook both their hands and slapped his cousin on the back with a quick, brusque mutter. The Countess abandoned decorum and hugged them both to her, bending to kiss her son's cheek. And then the circle was broken, and they came parading back out. The waiting Armsmen moved as one to draw their swords, present, and salute as the Emperor and Mi – the Prince Consort – passed between them.

And it was done.

"All right," said Ivan, appearing at her shoulder as the crowd began to shift and speak. "Now we can start drinking."

And drink they did. Or some of them, anyway. Ekaterin noticed that neither the Emperor nor his Prince Consort overindulged. Predictably, others were not nearly so sensible. Many of them were potted enough by dinner that the large hall, elaborately decorated for Midsummer, rang incoherently with drunken voices and the occasional backwoods drinking song. Ekaterin, separated from Ivan for the duration of the meal, caught his eye at the high table. They exchanged a smile, and he lifted his glass to her in a gallant toast.

Dinner itself, she was glad to see, seemed to have come out unscathed. It was delicious, all seven courses of it, and the frosting on the cake bore no hint of salt. Ma Kosti took her bow along with an abruptly promoted and very harried young cook, and was enthusiastically received.

After dinner, the festivities went on – and on and on – in the gardens and the ballroom. They would keep going until dawn, Ekaterin knew, though she hoped that Ivan wouldn't want to stay the whole time. She suspected that he'd want to retire to more private celebrations not too long after the Emperor and Miles. Around midnight she found herself on her own, trying to re-locate Ivan after having lost him during an elaborate dance that involved changing partners every few beats. She stood on tiptoe, wincing at the pinch of her shoes and trying to stifle a yawn, and peered over the crowd.

"I think I saw Ivan by the bar with Miles," the Emperor said from behind her. He gestured with his wine glass.

Ekaterin followed his gaze. "Ah," she said. She glanced hesitantly at the Emperor, who continued to watch Miles, his lips quirked unconsciously in a soft smile. "Did you talk to him?"

He glanced back at her. "I did," he said. "He said . . . he said we won, and I should stop looking over my shoulder for the surprise attack."

"How romantic," Ekaterin said dryly.

The Emperor laughed. "He's remarkably romantic when he wants to be. In this case though, I find his military metaphor very apt. And anyway, we're off tomorrow for the tour, which should be fairly relaxing."

"Good," Ekaterin said. "You need it. Both of you," she added.

"Indeed." He sipped his wine and raised his eyebrows at her. "And I hear we might have another wedding . . . eventually."

"Yes," she said firmly, "eventually. Probably."

"Hedging your bets?"

"Well," she said, "this is Ivan we are talking about."

The Emperor laughed. "Madame Vorsoisson, I think you have Ivan very thoroughly conquered. All you need to do is say when."

"I don't know when it happened really," Ekaterin sighed. "I did my very best not to conquer him, I assure you."

"Oh," he said wryly, "in my experience that is entirely secondary."

"Apparently," she agreed, happily.

Ivan and Miles appeared then. Ivan handed Ekaterin a fresh glass of wine and claimed her hand for his arm. "Are you two getting ready to blow out of here?" he asked Miles, glancing at his chrono.

"Half-past midnight," Miles said with satisfaction. "ImpSec has a timetable. I think Gregor would have to give an Imperial order if we wanted to stay longer."

"Wonderful. Then we can leave soon, too."

"You just got me this," Ekaterin said, holding up her glass.

"Yes, well, drink quickly." He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "We have much better things to do than watch the Council of Counts drink itself numb."

It was a testament to ImpSec's impeccable adherence to its timetables that Miles and the Emperor managed to get away on time. Ekaterin, smiling and a little misty-eyed, watched them go. Ivan danced one final dance with her and then called immediately for the car. Considering how little sleep she'd gotten the night before, Ekaterin hardly minded. Not that she was likely to sleep much this night either.

On the walkway up to Ivan's house, Ekaterin suddenly found herself swept up, clear off her feet. Ivan carried her, laughing, into the house and kicked the door shut on all his agents, who were, she was afraid, watching the goings on with some amusement. He kissed her in the foyer, a long, intense kiss that stole her breath away. But then, instead of leading her into the bedroom as she had fully expected, he grabbed her hand and took her on a tour of the house. "The tour I wanted to give you, when I showed it to you before I bought it," he said. They went through the house room by room, and Ekaterin was half-elated and half-frightened to understand in a way she hadn't before that if the pattern of her days had started to meld itself around Ivan, then he was about six steps ahead of her. The very pattern of his future was tied up in her, in her desires and her needs and her dreams and goals. The room he wanted to make into a greenhouse, the room he thought would be Nikki's, the room he wanted to be her library and study . . . and the room, a bit smaller and very near the master suite, which he said he hoped they'd find some way to fill.

"I want a girl this time," she said, leaning against the doorway.

"You could have two," he pointed out.

Sisters. Ekaterin shivered enviously. "We'll see," she said. She turned and looked at him, pulled him down for a kiss. For tonight, at least, the future could wait.

Fin.