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So, uh. Watch me epically drop the ball on this reposting business, haha. To start off, here's the first chapter of Catalyst.
This story is a bit different from most of my other projects. For one, it's straight-up fantasy: most of my stuff is either YA "urban" fantasy type things, or fantasy just by the virtue of taking place in a made-up world. This also began from a cowriting project with hijiri on LJ, though with every new draft, it gets further away from what it was then.
The story is also one of my only stories with a female POV character. I have a lot of female main characters, but for some reason, male POV characters are a lot easier for me to write. That said, Tuyen is one of the easiest characters I've ever written, of any gender. I've been writing with her since I was seventeen, and while she's gone through a few different drafts since then, she's still a lot of fun.
Catalyst was on its fourteenth chapter when I scrapped everything and decided to start over. Here's the new version of chapter one.
“Let me tell you a story.
Oh. Wait. ‘Once upon a time’ is how these things tend to begin, right?
Okay. For real this time:
Once upon a time, the world as people knew it was gone. Or that’s the particularly defeatist way of looking at it, anyway. It wasn’t like some big thing, like, they went to bed one night and got up the next morning and everything had vanished. This was a more gradual change. It took a long time for things to get to that point. And, as most people will point out, it was completely avoidable.
But the fact of the matter was that things had gotten so bad, no one country could survive on its own. Money had become nearly worthless. The world war had escalated to the point that no one could cross borders without being arrested, or just shot on sight. So alliances began to form, everywhere around the world. And over time, those alliances became new, united countries.
And those new countries started over, with new names, languages, and governments. And though things like individual cultures were lost in the shuffle, most people didn’t have to worry about starving anymore. Most, anyway.
It was better, but not perfect. You can’t really call anything perfect that involves starting from scratch, can you? But everyone tried to cope somehow. With the new civilizations came new religions, scientific theories, and everything in between. I guess that was around the time when, just as gradually, some people began to change, too.
They had lots of words for us back then: magicians, sorcerers, children of the earth. The churches thought we were saviors sent by God. The first lucky scientists to get their hands on a specimen discovered some anomalies in the chromosomes, but couldn’t agree on how relevant it was. As they discovered our resilience and ability to adapt, there was finally a name for people like us: ‘Adepts.’
We couldn’t be admired forever, though. It wasn’t long before they started coming up with new names: witches, freaks, abominations, devils. We were persecuted. Confined. Sometimes executed.
Soon, the new nation of United Asia was the only country without detainment laws for Adepts, and as we came from all over the world to their borders, Asia realized the advantages available to them. A decade later, the Academy was founded. Funded and maintained by government officials, it was the only chance we had at any sort of normal career. Of course, most career paths in the Academy ended with admittance to the United Asia military. But they were a wild success, and they took students from terrified parents all around the world.
Of course, some people think that life is just as cruel as the persecution elsewhere, if not worse. But it’s not as if we were rich in options, were we?
… no, that‘s not much of a beginning, either. All right, I’ll try this one more time:
Once upon a time, there lived the prince of a burning kingdom, and a knight who was very good at putting out the fires.”
Catalyst
Chapter One
“You’re not going to overdo it again, are you, dear?”
He spoke as she stood poised over the pool, ready to dip a toe in and test the temperature. She glanced over her shoulder with a small, wry smile. “I haven’t drowned yet, so I must be doing something right.”
“I’m merely concerned.” Her professor laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, returning the smile. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up again. And I certainly don’t want to find myself on your knight in shining armor’s bad side.”
“I talked with him already,” she said. “He’s just here to watch, that’s all.”
“Be that as it may…” A gloved hand landed on her other shoulder; his hands no longer offered reassurance, but held her there. “You dragged him down here again.”
She bowed her head, murmuring, “I’m sorry. But he came of his own volition.”
“This is not his responsibility, Tuyen,” the professor sighed. “It’s yours. You seem to have forgotten again. The difference between where he stands… and where you stand.”
“I remember,” she retorted, unwavering. “And I understand.”
“Darling, don’t give me that look. I’m on your side,” he said. “But if word gets to the headmaster that you’ve been distracting him-”
“I understand, already!” Swatting the hands away, she took a step forward. “There’s no need to keep reminding me, Professor Chen.”
“You’re keeping our agreement in mind, then?”
“… if I become a burden…” She glanced over her shoulder again, to where the boy stood by the door, imperiously staring back. “I’ll move out myself.”
His lips curled upwards. “You don’t sound as if you have any intention of that.”
“Well? No.” Dipping her toes into the pool again, the water began to freeze, starting from her foot and extending to the other end of the water. After testing its sturdiness, she stepped onto the ice. “I don’t have any intention of being a burden.”
He chuckled. “There’s a good girl.”
***
Tuyen was suddenly struck with the feeling that she was in one very long, involved staring contest.
What happens, she mused to herself, if you lose a staring contest with a shrink? It probably meant she had issues with intimacy or something. That was what her former psychiatrist, Dr. Weng, would have told her. She often got the sense that she wasn’t troubled or tragic enough for Dr. Weng, though.
Small talk was a good place to start. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she chirped. “Are you new?”
The new psychiatrist cleared his throat before replying. “I’ve been employed in this institution since its establishment.”
“I wasn’t implying anything… just, you know, I haven’t seen you before.” Tuyen giggled a little, to try and lighten the mood. Paging Dr. Insecure, line two.
“Yes, well…” He picked her file off his desk, flipping it open, giving her a moment to stem the awkward laughter. “May I have your full name, age, student number, and elemental specialty, please?”
“Last name: Phan, first name: Tuyen, nineteen, W136700, water,” she recited, friendly but mechanical.
“Right then, Miss Phan.” Another throat-clearing. “One of the reasons you’re here today is to assess your readiness for the upcoming exam.” He paused for emphasis. “Do you believe you’re ready?”
“Absolutely.” Tuyen nodded. “As I’m sure you’re aware, most of my class has already passed the Second Level Exam at this point.”
“But as I’m sure you are also aware, there is no time limit involved,” Dr. Insecure replied, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Under United Asia law, I can’t clear you for military service unless you’re fully, mentally prepared.”
“I promise, I’m prepared,” she said. “I practice my standards every day.”
“And there’s the question of your health to consider. I’m seeing here that some issues surfaced during the First Level Exam?”
Tuyen paused, composing an answer. “After my medical leave,” she said, “I never had another problem. I’ve passed all my physicals ever since.”
“Would you say that your illness changed a lot of things in your life?”
“A lot of things changed after that, Doctor,” she said, “but nothing that would interest you.”
“You’ve been in private tutoring since then?”
“That was something the headmaster decided on,” she explained. “But my tutor is Professor Chen.”
At least the good doctor seemed to understand that instantly. She could almost see him changing gears – her social life was up next for dissection, if she wasn’t mistaken. “You live with a roommate, correct?” He flipped the pages of the file, and she could tell by the way his eyes widened that he’d found the name of that roommate. “Nguyen, Lanh,” he read out loud, his jaw slack.
“That kid?” she laughed. “Yeah, we share a room.”
He mouthed ‘that kid’ to himself before managing to say it out loud. “Kid, you say?”
“Yeah, kid.” She shrugged. “Lanh’s actually younger than me. Just by a year, but still. No one believes that, you know?”
“Well, that’s…” Understandable, he was going to say. He didn’t. “You’ve known him long?”
“I’d say…” She counted it out on her fingers before saying, “about fourteen years now? And we were barely ever apart for eight of those years, so yes, I’ve known him for a while.”
Dr. Insecure looked as if he might drop on the spot. She could see it on his face as he tried to reconcile the Nguyen Lanh he’d doubtlessly heard about with the Nguyen Lanh who would tolerate her. “You… you two must be very good friends.”
“Friends?” Tuyen laughed again. “Something like that.”
***
Tuyen’s foot hit the top step of the clock tower at the same moment as her finger hit the button on her stopwatch.
She bent over double for a moment to catch her breath, before snapping upwards a moment later, checking her time. Grinning down at the stopwatch, she punched her fists up in the air, sucking enough air in her lungs to declare, “Perfect!” A little dramatic, maybe. But with the wind at the top of the tower blowing her long hair about her like a cape, it was a good moment for dramatic.
Running on a surge of adrenaline, she barreled down the clock tower steps and jogged back towards the dorms. Had she any composing talent, she’d write a song about that moment. She’d call it something like, “I’m Officially Sane Enough To Take the Exam.” Which, now that she thought about it, had no rhythm.
She sprinted across the courtyard, feeling quite smug at the evenness of her heartbeat, and entered the dormitory, kicking her muddy running shoes in the direction of the cubbies. She was in better shape that she’d ever been. The Academy’s nurse, Jin, had no reason not to clear her for the exam. After six years of floundering, this was it.
No need to get ahead of yourself, she thought with a shake of her head, ascending the stairs to the second floor. There’s the small matter of passing first. But she had a definite bounce in her step as she approached her room, and when she opened the door, she allowed herself a cheerful, “I’m back!”
Except for the dim light of a desk lamp in the corner, the room was completely dark. The shades were drawn, most of the lamps were turned off, and all she could see was the broad outline of her roommate. “What?” he questioned in a clipped tone.
“… well,” Tuyen huffed, stepping into the dark room, “I realize you weren’t programmed to be polite, but when your roommate returns, the proper response is ‘Welcome back.’ Why are you sitting here in the dark? You’re gonna kill your eyesight like that, and I’m not gonna be the one to-”
Her reprimand dissolved into a yelp as she tripped over what felt like a textbook, and she slipped into Vietnamese as she let out a string of curses. “This is ridiculous, Lanh,” she muttered. “I’m getting some light in here.”
“I like it this way, Tuyen,” Lanh’s silhouette protested. Predictably, he didn’t follow her lead and switch to Vietnamese; he continued in his perfectly articulated Chinese. He thought Vietnamese sounded too common. Tuyen had never liked the way Chinese sounded in her voice.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, yanking the curtains open. “You’ve been wasting away in here all week, that’s no way to spend a vacation.” Lanh squinted petulantly into the sunlight, and she turned back to face him, brushing her hair out of the way. Though he hadn’t been out yet today, he was in uniform; his jacket was buttoned to the top, and he even had his tie done.
She caught a glimpse of him shuffling the pile of papers on his desk, and she tilted her head to one side. “There always seems to be this big scramble to put things away when I enter a room, huh, Lanh? I had no idea I inspired such feelings of tidiness.” She crossed the room and leaned over his shoulder. “Let’s see it, then.”
“What? No.” Lanh pushed the papers away from her. “You know you can’t look at my reports.”
“I know, I know, cadets aren’t allowed, but I can proofread it for you!” Tuyen said, reaching for the papers. When Lanh pushed her hand away, she sighed. “It’d be dull as dirt anyway. I don’t know any other fire users who can be as clinical about blowing things up as you.”
“It’s a report. It’s meant to be clinical,” Lanh said. Though his expression remained stony, he bristled a little. Good. She loved when she got under his skin.
“Or maybe it’s not your report?” She smiled at him innocently. “Did you take up writing poetry again? I keep telling you, a little polishing and-”
“Did you really go to your appointment dressed like that?” Lanh interrupted, pointing at her tank top and running shorts combo. Tuyen deflated. She missed the upper hand already.
“No one said I had to dress up for a psych evaluation,” she pointed out. “He cleared me, though! Now all I have to do is my physical with Miss Jin, a few more sessions with Professor Chen, and I’ll be ready to go!”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he said dryly, standing up. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Wanted? Me?” She laid a hand on her chest, looking scandalized. “I can’t say hello to you without having an agenda?” When he just raised an eyebrow, she laughed. “Nah, I thought maybe we could go into the city and get lunch. We’ve only got a few more hours of summer vacation, and you haven’t been out at all.”
“I’ve been out,” he countered.
“Assignments don’t count. And besides…” She withdrew a wad of bills from her pocket and waved them in front of him. “I’ve got all this nice allowance that I haven’t spent.”
“You don’t need to spend it all the minute it hits your pocket…” He trailed off when she fixed him with the most pitiful stare in her repertoire. It was blatant cheating, and she knew it well, too. Gritting his teeth, he shuffled his papers into a pile, locking them into his desk drawer. “We’re out of non-toxic soap, anyway.”
“You don’t have to keep buying that, you know… I don’t plan on eating it again.” She glanced at the floor, embarrassed. “Besides, I was young.”
“You were seventeen.”
“You dared me to do it.”
“Would you do anything I dared you to?”
“Depends. Is it potentially fatal?”
“My point.” He leaned against the wall, looking at her expectantly.
“… what?” She blinked.
“Are you going to go out like that?” he asked, gesturing again to her outfit. “Put your uniform on.”
“Oh… right.” She crossed the room to the closet, opening it. “Though I still say we talk to the headmaster about that useless rule. There’s no sense in advertising what we are.”
“And what do you think the headmaster can do about that?” He shrugged. “It’s not a rule. It’s the law.”
“So? Since when have laws been worth following?” she said.
“In case you’ve forgotten, those laws are there to keep us safe.”
“Right. They’re totally for our benefit.” When Lanh didn’t react, she added, “Come on, now. Haven’t you noticed? People are terrified of us.” She pulled her uniform out of the closet, noticing with a distasteful snort that he’d ironed it. “If we just dressed normally, no one would be the wiser, but wearing these? Everyone seems to think that if they look at us the wrong way, someone will arrest them for committing a hate crime.” Too lazy to take off her jogging clothes, she pulled the uniform over it. “That law isn’t for us. It’s for them.”
“You’re starting to sound like a seditionist,” he said. “If we lived anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t have the luxury of that protection. Stop complaining.”
“I just think that we could do without,” she murmured, straightening her clothes in the mirror. “That’s all.”
“We can split hairs later. We’re going to miss the train.” He waited for her to put her jacket on, then strode out the door so quickly that she had to run to catch up with him.
“You are really pissed about seeing the sun again, aren’t you?” She grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably going to die tonight.”
That stopped him. “What?”
“Did you forget already?” she asked, slipping ahead of him as he faltered. “Professor Chen lessons officially start up again, no more warm-ups. He slipped a note into my mailbox this morning. Signed with a heart. That’s never good.”
“He’s not going to kill you,” he said, not sounding very convinced. “Do you know what you’ll be covering?”
“Uhh…” She frowned as she tried to recall. “Oh, right, he mentioned last night that he wanted to see how many standards I could perform in succession. All of them, if possible.”
“All of them?” Lanh repeated, more sharply than usual. “Are you sure you can handle that?”
“Lanh, it’s in Chen’s best interests that I don’t die,” Tuyen said. “I think. But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t ask me to do anything that would actually kill me. And besides, you have to do all your standards for the Second Exam, right?”
“Chen told you that?” he asked, his expression safely blank again.
“… yeah.” She stopped and turned around. “Why?”
“No reason.” He paused, and then said, “I’ll come with you.”
“You want to see me writhe in pain that badly?” It would be no use questioning Lanh further – it never was – so she just laughed.
“I’ll see if I can’t work out something with Chen. Just… don’t encourage him, please.” His brow wrinkled.
“Why, Lanh,” she said with relish, “that just might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”
“Don’t read too much into it.” He showed the faintest hint of a smirk, and Tuyen’s grin widened. It was so rare to trick him into acting human. “It would be a hassle to explain your death to the headmaster.”
“Just admit it already,” she said, shoving his shoulder. “You’d be lonely without me being a pain in your ass.”
“Think what you want.”
“I don’t need your permission for that.” They walked through the arched entryway and onto the grounds, making their way towards the train stop just past the front gate. “I don’t mind if Chen pushes a little hard, you know. As long as it gets me ready for the exam.” She glanced back at him. “You do think I’m ready for the exam, right?”
Another long pause. “… let’s talk at the restaurant,” he finally said as he stepped onto the train platform.
Tuyen’s smile faltered. That would be a ‘no,’ then.
***
“Two steaks, medium-rare, please!”
“Tuyen, don’t order for me,” Lanh sighed, with an apologetic glance at the waitress.
“Huh? Oh, those are for me.” Tuyen blinked. “Did you want anything?”
He gave her a particularly stony glare across the table, but handed the waitress his menu. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, please.”
“Coming right up!” The waitress giggled with no small measure of hysteria, and she plucked the menu out of Lanh’s hands without getting too close to the table. Still giggling, she disappeared towards the kitchen.
When Lanh continued to glare at her, she shrugged and took a sip of her strawberry lemonade, eyelashes fluttering closed in pleasure. “What? Fast metabolism. Can’t help it.”
“Two?” He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how much that costs?”
“Hey, I’ve been good lately,” she said, poking her straw towards him. “You know, you should really be nicer to me – you of all people should know how much blackmail I have on you. Unless you want your superiors to know that you came crying to me until you were thirteen. Or that you spent half of your childhood running around with a stick and pretending to be a knight. Which is more embarrassing, y’think?”
He didn’t rise to the bait; he only stared into his water glass. She tried again. “And I’m sure they’d frown on all that food you stole from the kitchens with that ingenious plan of yours. What did it involve again? A string, a blanket, and…?”
“Spoons,” he said automatically, still not looking up at her.
“… all right,” Tuyen gave in and returned her straw to her glass. “We’re going to argue, aren’t we?” She halfheartedly raised her arms and made fists. “Put ‘em up.”
Lanh looked up at her, thoroughly resigned. “You shouldn’t take the Second Exam.”
“Okay.” She took a breath and tried to stay calm. She’d expected this, after all. “I get it. You have still doubts. But you have to understand, I’m the last person in our class to take it. Hell, as far as I know, I’m the oldest student to take it. I’m not going to wait another year-”
“No, Tuyen,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think you should take it at all.”
That, she hadn’t expected as much. She started to laugh, hoping that he was making some incredibly uncharacteristic joke, but his expression didn’t flicker. “Shouldn’t take it at all,” she echoed. “Were you ever going to tell me that, or were you just going to keep stalling?”
“I’m telling you now,” he said. “Going into the military isn’t your only option. I think you should give the alternatives some consideration-”
“Civil service?” she snapped, barely noticing that the wait staff was looking at them nervously. “Lanh, come on! You’re expecting me to do, what, PR?”
“You’re good with people,” he retorted calmly. “You always have been. You’d do good work there… making sure the Academy stays open is just as important as military work.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She dropped her hands hard on the table. “I’ve been working towards this for six years. You’re not going to talk me out of it.”
“I understand that,” he said, though he was visibly losing patience, “but I don’t think it’s a good fit for you.”
“Yeah? Then tell me why.” He didn’t say a word in return, and she ground her teeth. “Go on. Tell me why it’s such a horrible idea.”
“… if you’re asking me to tell you about my work, you know as well as I do that I can’t.” Contrary to popular belief, Lanh didn’t look annoyed or angry when he was unhappy. His face went completely impassive, blank, impossible for anyone to decipher.
She was quickly approaching that territory again, that group of questions she knew better than to ask. And if she stumbled on one of them, she would be lucky to get another word out of Lanh for the next week. “Of course you can’t.”
“Have you considered your illness at all?” It was more of an accusation than a question. “Your health is more important than anything.”
“Don’t even start with that,” Tuyen said. “I’ve been perfectly healthy for years now! I’ve passed every physical since then!”
“And you were ‘perfectly healthy’ that morning, too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “I should know. I was with you the entire time.”
“I’m not going to get sick again.”
“I suppose you think you can say that for sure, then?”
“So what if I can’t? It’s gotten better. I can handle it.”
“Gotten better?” Lanh said. “You’ll forgive me if that’s not exactly comforting.”
“It’s good enough,” she retorted.
“No, it’s not. And maybe if you’d stop acting like a child-”
Lanh only raised his voice a little, but the little votive candle in the center of the table suddenly erupted in flames, interrupting him. Tuyen jumped, but recovered quickly enough to glance sheepishly at the wait staff and the other patrons, who were clearly terrified that one of them was going to do damage to the restaurant.
“… let’s stop,” she said quietly.
“That might be a good idea.” Even he looked a bit guilty. The flames died down instantly. “I apologize. I got carried away.”
She ventured a small grin, and tried to joke. “You should get carried away more often. Adds a degree of excitement.”
“Out of the question,” he said, though he seemed to relax. “I’ve incurred enough property damage in my lifetime.”
“Ah, time-out chamber,” she laughed, with a hand on her heart. “Rest in peace, old friend.” She let her hands rest in her lap, pursed her lips, and said, “I had plans. Still have them. I’ve let enough of them get derailed as is. You’re not going to change my mind on this one.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then finally switched to Vietnamese. “And if I told you I was concerned, would that change anything?”
“… I would be very grateful.” Tuyen smiled across the table. “But it wouldn’t change a thing, no.”
Lanh nodded ruefully. “I’d gathered as much.”
***
“Maybe you coming tonight wasn’t such a good plan.”
As they walked through the archway and across the grounds, Lanh shot her a dubious glance. “I thought you wanted me to come.”
“No, I said it was very sweet, but on second thought, not the best idea,” Tuyen said with a cavalier shrug. “I think you’re in bigger danger than I am.”
“… elaborate, please?”
“Chen,” she whispered with relish. “He’s totally obsessed with you.”
“That’s entirely subjective,” he said, though his perfect posture deflated just a little. “One could say he’s obsessed with you.”
“No, he just likes to torture me. There’s a difference. I’m just saying, if he tried to give you cognac again, you should guard your virtue with your life.”
“Yes, Tuyen, thank you for being as vulgar as possible.”
“You call that vulgar? Give me a minute and I‘ll do better.” She turned back to face forward. They may have been trying a little hard to return to their normal repartee, but she didn’t mind that. She wasn’t up to discussing it anymore.
As they approached the wide, clear lake in the back of the grounds, she saw her tutor almost instantly. It was hard to miss Professor Chen: he was the tallest man she knew, and had a tendency to spice up his uniform with the most ridiculous accessories she’d ever seen. That night, he’d worn his favorite beret, and had set up two lawn chairs near the lake. Tuyen smiled wryly to herself. Whatever she could say about Chen, he knew Lanh well.
“Tuyen!” Chen stood on tiptoes, as if he needed to, and waved. “My nymph! My plum blossom! My top student!”
“Professor Chen,” she sighed as she approached him, “I just saw you last night.”
“Ah, has it really been so short?” Chen let his hands flutter to Tuyen’s shoulders. “It felt like an eternity!”
When she glanced urgently back at him, Lanh reluctantly interjected, “Good evening, Professor.”
“… Lanh!” Chen nearly shoved Tuyen aside in his hurry to sidle up to Lanh. “Are you going to be keeping us company again tonight?”
“It would seem that way,” Lanh said.
“Just couldn’t pass up the chance to spend time with me, yes?” Chen leaned over to nudge Tuyen in the ribs. “He’s so shameless, isn’t he?”
“Isn’t he just?” she echoed, singsong.
“All right, all right,” Chen laughed, catching Lanh’s stony expression. “Lanh here is obviously ready to go, so let’s pull ourselves together, young lady. You remember what’s on the agenda for tonight, don’t you? Get out there and show me as many standards as you can.”
“Understood,” she said with a nod. “And when do you want me to stop?”
“Stop if it starts to hurt,” Lanh said immediately.
Chen cleared his throat, then smiled down at Tuyen. “Stop when you think you should stop, dear.”
“Understood,” she said again, moving down to the side of the lake. She started to strip off her uniform; she was still wearing her jogging uniform underneath, and it was easier to move in. There was a beat of silence before she heard Chen and Lanh begin a quiet conversation behind her. Tuyen held in a breath as she busied herself braiding her hair, all while straining to listen.
“… don’t give me that,” Chen was saying. “She’s doing fine.”
“It’s not. A good. Idea.” Tuyen fingers snagged on a tangle, but she continued the braid.
“She’s been practicing, hasn’t she?”
“What do you think?” Lanh’s voice was completely flat. She could picture that impassive expression.
“Why so hostile all of a sudden? I’ve made good on my promise.”
“In the loosest sense of the word.”
“Aw, come on now. Everything I do is for you two, you know.”
A long pause. “Stop talking to her like she doesn’t understand what’s going on. She’s not stupid.”
“My, did I ever say she was?” Chen said, innocent. “I’m not the one treating her like a child.”
“I’m not. She just doesn’t get it, that’s all.”
“Just don’t tell me you’re thinking of ruining the surprise.”
“If you hadn’t noticed, my hands are a bit tied.”
“Aren’t you excited?” Chen asked. “Before long, you’ll be able to take any assignment you want.”
“I’ll stick with this one, thanks.” She could picture Lanh’s shrug.
“What a waste,” the professor sighed. “We can take it from here just fine.”
“I’ve never been a fan of your definition of those words.”
“Of course. The day you start trusting me, I’ll break out the champagne. Although I think the cognac I brought would work nicely tonight, don’t you think?” Tuyen heard boots across the damp grass, and Chen’s hand thumped against her shoulder, making her jump. “All set?”
Tuyen exhaled, fixed a smile on her face, and turned around. “Completely.” When Chen’s mouth thinned, she added, “Yes, I know. I should have told him not to come.”
“And yet…” Chen sighed.
“And yet,” she said ruefully. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Listen, darling…” Chen squeezed her shoulder. “Please don’t be too upset if tonight doesn’t go well. Your health is more important than anything else.” And winking, he headed back up the embankment to his lawn chair.
Tuyen turned to watch him go, and met Lanh’s eyes for just a moment. Turning back to the lake, she shook her head, and let the smile drop. “Yeah,” she murmured. “So I keep hearing.”
I'll probably just backdate the In Descending Order chapters, so next is either The Imperial Guard or some fanfics...
This story is a bit different from most of my other projects. For one, it's straight-up fantasy: most of my stuff is either YA "urban" fantasy type things, or fantasy just by the virtue of taking place in a made-up world. This also began from a cowriting project with hijiri on LJ, though with every new draft, it gets further away from what it was then.
The story is also one of my only stories with a female POV character. I have a lot of female main characters, but for some reason, male POV characters are a lot easier for me to write. That said, Tuyen is one of the easiest characters I've ever written, of any gender. I've been writing with her since I was seventeen, and while she's gone through a few different drafts since then, she's still a lot of fun.
Catalyst was on its fourteenth chapter when I scrapped everything and decided to start over. Here's the new version of chapter one.
“Let me tell you a story.
Oh. Wait. ‘Once upon a time’ is how these things tend to begin, right?
Okay. For real this time:
Once upon a time, the world as people knew it was gone. Or that’s the particularly defeatist way of looking at it, anyway. It wasn’t like some big thing, like, they went to bed one night and got up the next morning and everything had vanished. This was a more gradual change. It took a long time for things to get to that point. And, as most people will point out, it was completely avoidable.
But the fact of the matter was that things had gotten so bad, no one country could survive on its own. Money had become nearly worthless. The world war had escalated to the point that no one could cross borders without being arrested, or just shot on sight. So alliances began to form, everywhere around the world. And over time, those alliances became new, united countries.
And those new countries started over, with new names, languages, and governments. And though things like individual cultures were lost in the shuffle, most people didn’t have to worry about starving anymore. Most, anyway.
It was better, but not perfect. You can’t really call anything perfect that involves starting from scratch, can you? But everyone tried to cope somehow. With the new civilizations came new religions, scientific theories, and everything in between. I guess that was around the time when, just as gradually, some people began to change, too.
They had lots of words for us back then: magicians, sorcerers, children of the earth. The churches thought we were saviors sent by God. The first lucky scientists to get their hands on a specimen discovered some anomalies in the chromosomes, but couldn’t agree on how relevant it was. As they discovered our resilience and ability to adapt, there was finally a name for people like us: ‘Adepts.’
We couldn’t be admired forever, though. It wasn’t long before they started coming up with new names: witches, freaks, abominations, devils. We were persecuted. Confined. Sometimes executed.
Soon, the new nation of United Asia was the only country without detainment laws for Adepts, and as we came from all over the world to their borders, Asia realized the advantages available to them. A decade later, the Academy was founded. Funded and maintained by government officials, it was the only chance we had at any sort of normal career. Of course, most career paths in the Academy ended with admittance to the United Asia military. But they were a wild success, and they took students from terrified parents all around the world.
Of course, some people think that life is just as cruel as the persecution elsewhere, if not worse. But it’s not as if we were rich in options, were we?
… no, that‘s not much of a beginning, either. All right, I’ll try this one more time:
Once upon a time, there lived the prince of a burning kingdom, and a knight who was very good at putting out the fires.”
Catalyst
Chapter One
“You’re not going to overdo it again, are you, dear?”
He spoke as she stood poised over the pool, ready to dip a toe in and test the temperature. She glanced over her shoulder with a small, wry smile. “I haven’t drowned yet, so I must be doing something right.”
“I’m merely concerned.” Her professor laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, returning the smile. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up again. And I certainly don’t want to find myself on your knight in shining armor’s bad side.”
“I talked with him already,” she said. “He’s just here to watch, that’s all.”
“Be that as it may…” A gloved hand landed on her other shoulder; his hands no longer offered reassurance, but held her there. “You dragged him down here again.”
She bowed her head, murmuring, “I’m sorry. But he came of his own volition.”
“This is not his responsibility, Tuyen,” the professor sighed. “It’s yours. You seem to have forgotten again. The difference between where he stands… and where you stand.”
“I remember,” she retorted, unwavering. “And I understand.”
“Darling, don’t give me that look. I’m on your side,” he said. “But if word gets to the headmaster that you’ve been distracting him-”
“I understand, already!” Swatting the hands away, she took a step forward. “There’s no need to keep reminding me, Professor Chen.”
“You’re keeping our agreement in mind, then?”
“… if I become a burden…” She glanced over her shoulder again, to where the boy stood by the door, imperiously staring back. “I’ll move out myself.”
His lips curled upwards. “You don’t sound as if you have any intention of that.”
“Well? No.” Dipping her toes into the pool again, the water began to freeze, starting from her foot and extending to the other end of the water. After testing its sturdiness, she stepped onto the ice. “I don’t have any intention of being a burden.”
He chuckled. “There’s a good girl.”
***
Tuyen was suddenly struck with the feeling that she was in one very long, involved staring contest.
What happens, she mused to herself, if you lose a staring contest with a shrink? It probably meant she had issues with intimacy or something. That was what her former psychiatrist, Dr. Weng, would have told her. She often got the sense that she wasn’t troubled or tragic enough for Dr. Weng, though.
Small talk was a good place to start. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she chirped. “Are you new?”
The new psychiatrist cleared his throat before replying. “I’ve been employed in this institution since its establishment.”
“I wasn’t implying anything… just, you know, I haven’t seen you before.” Tuyen giggled a little, to try and lighten the mood. Paging Dr. Insecure, line two.
“Yes, well…” He picked her file off his desk, flipping it open, giving her a moment to stem the awkward laughter. “May I have your full name, age, student number, and elemental specialty, please?”
“Last name: Phan, first name: Tuyen, nineteen, W136700, water,” she recited, friendly but mechanical.
“Right then, Miss Phan.” Another throat-clearing. “One of the reasons you’re here today is to assess your readiness for the upcoming exam.” He paused for emphasis. “Do you believe you’re ready?”
“Absolutely.” Tuyen nodded. “As I’m sure you’re aware, most of my class has already passed the Second Level Exam at this point.”
“But as I’m sure you are also aware, there is no time limit involved,” Dr. Insecure replied, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Under United Asia law, I can’t clear you for military service unless you’re fully, mentally prepared.”
“I promise, I’m prepared,” she said. “I practice my standards every day.”
“And there’s the question of your health to consider. I’m seeing here that some issues surfaced during the First Level Exam?”
Tuyen paused, composing an answer. “After my medical leave,” she said, “I never had another problem. I’ve passed all my physicals ever since.”
“Would you say that your illness changed a lot of things in your life?”
“A lot of things changed after that, Doctor,” she said, “but nothing that would interest you.”
“You’ve been in private tutoring since then?”
“That was something the headmaster decided on,” she explained. “But my tutor is Professor Chen.”
At least the good doctor seemed to understand that instantly. She could almost see him changing gears – her social life was up next for dissection, if she wasn’t mistaken. “You live with a roommate, correct?” He flipped the pages of the file, and she could tell by the way his eyes widened that he’d found the name of that roommate. “Nguyen, Lanh,” he read out loud, his jaw slack.
“That kid?” she laughed. “Yeah, we share a room.”
He mouthed ‘that kid’ to himself before managing to say it out loud. “Kid, you say?”
“Yeah, kid.” She shrugged. “Lanh’s actually younger than me. Just by a year, but still. No one believes that, you know?”
“Well, that’s…” Understandable, he was going to say. He didn’t. “You’ve known him long?”
“I’d say…” She counted it out on her fingers before saying, “about fourteen years now? And we were barely ever apart for eight of those years, so yes, I’ve known him for a while.”
Dr. Insecure looked as if he might drop on the spot. She could see it on his face as he tried to reconcile the Nguyen Lanh he’d doubtlessly heard about with the Nguyen Lanh who would tolerate her. “You… you two must be very good friends.”
“Friends?” Tuyen laughed again. “Something like that.”
***
Tuyen’s foot hit the top step of the clock tower at the same moment as her finger hit the button on her stopwatch.
She bent over double for a moment to catch her breath, before snapping upwards a moment later, checking her time. Grinning down at the stopwatch, she punched her fists up in the air, sucking enough air in her lungs to declare, “Perfect!” A little dramatic, maybe. But with the wind at the top of the tower blowing her long hair about her like a cape, it was a good moment for dramatic.
Running on a surge of adrenaline, she barreled down the clock tower steps and jogged back towards the dorms. Had she any composing talent, she’d write a song about that moment. She’d call it something like, “I’m Officially Sane Enough To Take the Exam.” Which, now that she thought about it, had no rhythm.
She sprinted across the courtyard, feeling quite smug at the evenness of her heartbeat, and entered the dormitory, kicking her muddy running shoes in the direction of the cubbies. She was in better shape that she’d ever been. The Academy’s nurse, Jin, had no reason not to clear her for the exam. After six years of floundering, this was it.
No need to get ahead of yourself, she thought with a shake of her head, ascending the stairs to the second floor. There’s the small matter of passing first. But she had a definite bounce in her step as she approached her room, and when she opened the door, she allowed herself a cheerful, “I’m back!”
Except for the dim light of a desk lamp in the corner, the room was completely dark. The shades were drawn, most of the lamps were turned off, and all she could see was the broad outline of her roommate. “What?” he questioned in a clipped tone.
“… well,” Tuyen huffed, stepping into the dark room, “I realize you weren’t programmed to be polite, but when your roommate returns, the proper response is ‘Welcome back.’ Why are you sitting here in the dark? You’re gonna kill your eyesight like that, and I’m not gonna be the one to-”
Her reprimand dissolved into a yelp as she tripped over what felt like a textbook, and she slipped into Vietnamese as she let out a string of curses. “This is ridiculous, Lanh,” she muttered. “I’m getting some light in here.”
“I like it this way, Tuyen,” Lanh’s silhouette protested. Predictably, he didn’t follow her lead and switch to Vietnamese; he continued in his perfectly articulated Chinese. He thought Vietnamese sounded too common. Tuyen had never liked the way Chinese sounded in her voice.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, yanking the curtains open. “You’ve been wasting away in here all week, that’s no way to spend a vacation.” Lanh squinted petulantly into the sunlight, and she turned back to face him, brushing her hair out of the way. Though he hadn’t been out yet today, he was in uniform; his jacket was buttoned to the top, and he even had his tie done.
She caught a glimpse of him shuffling the pile of papers on his desk, and she tilted her head to one side. “There always seems to be this big scramble to put things away when I enter a room, huh, Lanh? I had no idea I inspired such feelings of tidiness.” She crossed the room and leaned over his shoulder. “Let’s see it, then.”
“What? No.” Lanh pushed the papers away from her. “You know you can’t look at my reports.”
“I know, I know, cadets aren’t allowed, but I can proofread it for you!” Tuyen said, reaching for the papers. When Lanh pushed her hand away, she sighed. “It’d be dull as dirt anyway. I don’t know any other fire users who can be as clinical about blowing things up as you.”
“It’s a report. It’s meant to be clinical,” Lanh said. Though his expression remained stony, he bristled a little. Good. She loved when she got under his skin.
“Or maybe it’s not your report?” She smiled at him innocently. “Did you take up writing poetry again? I keep telling you, a little polishing and-”
“Did you really go to your appointment dressed like that?” Lanh interrupted, pointing at her tank top and running shorts combo. Tuyen deflated. She missed the upper hand already.
“No one said I had to dress up for a psych evaluation,” she pointed out. “He cleared me, though! Now all I have to do is my physical with Miss Jin, a few more sessions with Professor Chen, and I’ll be ready to go!”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he said dryly, standing up. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Wanted? Me?” She laid a hand on her chest, looking scandalized. “I can’t say hello to you without having an agenda?” When he just raised an eyebrow, she laughed. “Nah, I thought maybe we could go into the city and get lunch. We’ve only got a few more hours of summer vacation, and you haven’t been out at all.”
“I’ve been out,” he countered.
“Assignments don’t count. And besides…” She withdrew a wad of bills from her pocket and waved them in front of him. “I’ve got all this nice allowance that I haven’t spent.”
“You don’t need to spend it all the minute it hits your pocket…” He trailed off when she fixed him with the most pitiful stare in her repertoire. It was blatant cheating, and she knew it well, too. Gritting his teeth, he shuffled his papers into a pile, locking them into his desk drawer. “We’re out of non-toxic soap, anyway.”
“You don’t have to keep buying that, you know… I don’t plan on eating it again.” She glanced at the floor, embarrassed. “Besides, I was young.”
“You were seventeen.”
“You dared me to do it.”
“Would you do anything I dared you to?”
“Depends. Is it potentially fatal?”
“My point.” He leaned against the wall, looking at her expectantly.
“… what?” She blinked.
“Are you going to go out like that?” he asked, gesturing again to her outfit. “Put your uniform on.”
“Oh… right.” She crossed the room to the closet, opening it. “Though I still say we talk to the headmaster about that useless rule. There’s no sense in advertising what we are.”
“And what do you think the headmaster can do about that?” He shrugged. “It’s not a rule. It’s the law.”
“So? Since when have laws been worth following?” she said.
“In case you’ve forgotten, those laws are there to keep us safe.”
“Right. They’re totally for our benefit.” When Lanh didn’t react, she added, “Come on, now. Haven’t you noticed? People are terrified of us.” She pulled her uniform out of the closet, noticing with a distasteful snort that he’d ironed it. “If we just dressed normally, no one would be the wiser, but wearing these? Everyone seems to think that if they look at us the wrong way, someone will arrest them for committing a hate crime.” Too lazy to take off her jogging clothes, she pulled the uniform over it. “That law isn’t for us. It’s for them.”
“You’re starting to sound like a seditionist,” he said. “If we lived anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t have the luxury of that protection. Stop complaining.”
“I just think that we could do without,” she murmured, straightening her clothes in the mirror. “That’s all.”
“We can split hairs later. We’re going to miss the train.” He waited for her to put her jacket on, then strode out the door so quickly that she had to run to catch up with him.
“You are really pissed about seeing the sun again, aren’t you?” She grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably going to die tonight.”
That stopped him. “What?”
“Did you forget already?” she asked, slipping ahead of him as he faltered. “Professor Chen lessons officially start up again, no more warm-ups. He slipped a note into my mailbox this morning. Signed with a heart. That’s never good.”
“He’s not going to kill you,” he said, not sounding very convinced. “Do you know what you’ll be covering?”
“Uhh…” She frowned as she tried to recall. “Oh, right, he mentioned last night that he wanted to see how many standards I could perform in succession. All of them, if possible.”
“All of them?” Lanh repeated, more sharply than usual. “Are you sure you can handle that?”
“Lanh, it’s in Chen’s best interests that I don’t die,” Tuyen said. “I think. But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t ask me to do anything that would actually kill me. And besides, you have to do all your standards for the Second Exam, right?”
“Chen told you that?” he asked, his expression safely blank again.
“… yeah.” She stopped and turned around. “Why?”
“No reason.” He paused, and then said, “I’ll come with you.”
“You want to see me writhe in pain that badly?” It would be no use questioning Lanh further – it never was – so she just laughed.
“I’ll see if I can’t work out something with Chen. Just… don’t encourage him, please.” His brow wrinkled.
“Why, Lanh,” she said with relish, “that just might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.”
“Don’t read too much into it.” He showed the faintest hint of a smirk, and Tuyen’s grin widened. It was so rare to trick him into acting human. “It would be a hassle to explain your death to the headmaster.”
“Just admit it already,” she said, shoving his shoulder. “You’d be lonely without me being a pain in your ass.”
“Think what you want.”
“I don’t need your permission for that.” They walked through the arched entryway and onto the grounds, making their way towards the train stop just past the front gate. “I don’t mind if Chen pushes a little hard, you know. As long as it gets me ready for the exam.” She glanced back at him. “You do think I’m ready for the exam, right?”
Another long pause. “… let’s talk at the restaurant,” he finally said as he stepped onto the train platform.
Tuyen’s smile faltered. That would be a ‘no,’ then.
***
“Two steaks, medium-rare, please!”
“Tuyen, don’t order for me,” Lanh sighed, with an apologetic glance at the waitress.
“Huh? Oh, those are for me.” Tuyen blinked. “Did you want anything?”
He gave her a particularly stony glare across the table, but handed the waitress his menu. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, please.”
“Coming right up!” The waitress giggled with no small measure of hysteria, and she plucked the menu out of Lanh’s hands without getting too close to the table. Still giggling, she disappeared towards the kitchen.
When Lanh continued to glare at her, she shrugged and took a sip of her strawberry lemonade, eyelashes fluttering closed in pleasure. “What? Fast metabolism. Can’t help it.”
“Two?” He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how much that costs?”
“Hey, I’ve been good lately,” she said, poking her straw towards him. “You know, you should really be nicer to me – you of all people should know how much blackmail I have on you. Unless you want your superiors to know that you came crying to me until you were thirteen. Or that you spent half of your childhood running around with a stick and pretending to be a knight. Which is more embarrassing, y’think?”
He didn’t rise to the bait; he only stared into his water glass. She tried again. “And I’m sure they’d frown on all that food you stole from the kitchens with that ingenious plan of yours. What did it involve again? A string, a blanket, and…?”
“Spoons,” he said automatically, still not looking up at her.
“… all right,” Tuyen gave in and returned her straw to her glass. “We’re going to argue, aren’t we?” She halfheartedly raised her arms and made fists. “Put ‘em up.”
Lanh looked up at her, thoroughly resigned. “You shouldn’t take the Second Exam.”
“Okay.” She took a breath and tried to stay calm. She’d expected this, after all. “I get it. You have still doubts. But you have to understand, I’m the last person in our class to take it. Hell, as far as I know, I’m the oldest student to take it. I’m not going to wait another year-”
“No, Tuyen,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t think you should take it at all.”
That, she hadn’t expected as much. She started to laugh, hoping that he was making some incredibly uncharacteristic joke, but his expression didn’t flicker. “Shouldn’t take it at all,” she echoed. “Were you ever going to tell me that, or were you just going to keep stalling?”
“I’m telling you now,” he said. “Going into the military isn’t your only option. I think you should give the alternatives some consideration-”
“Civil service?” she snapped, barely noticing that the wait staff was looking at them nervously. “Lanh, come on! You’re expecting me to do, what, PR?”
“You’re good with people,” he retorted calmly. “You always have been. You’d do good work there… making sure the Academy stays open is just as important as military work.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She dropped her hands hard on the table. “I’ve been working towards this for six years. You’re not going to talk me out of it.”
“I understand that,” he said, though he was visibly losing patience, “but I don’t think it’s a good fit for you.”
“Yeah? Then tell me why.” He didn’t say a word in return, and she ground her teeth. “Go on. Tell me why it’s such a horrible idea.”
“… if you’re asking me to tell you about my work, you know as well as I do that I can’t.” Contrary to popular belief, Lanh didn’t look annoyed or angry when he was unhappy. His face went completely impassive, blank, impossible for anyone to decipher.
She was quickly approaching that territory again, that group of questions she knew better than to ask. And if she stumbled on one of them, she would be lucky to get another word out of Lanh for the next week. “Of course you can’t.”
“Have you considered your illness at all?” It was more of an accusation than a question. “Your health is more important than anything.”
“Don’t even start with that,” Tuyen said. “I’ve been perfectly healthy for years now! I’ve passed every physical since then!”
“And you were ‘perfectly healthy’ that morning, too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “I should know. I was with you the entire time.”
“I’m not going to get sick again.”
“I suppose you think you can say that for sure, then?”
“So what if I can’t? It’s gotten better. I can handle it.”
“Gotten better?” Lanh said. “You’ll forgive me if that’s not exactly comforting.”
“It’s good enough,” she retorted.
“No, it’s not. And maybe if you’d stop acting like a child-”
Lanh only raised his voice a little, but the little votive candle in the center of the table suddenly erupted in flames, interrupting him. Tuyen jumped, but recovered quickly enough to glance sheepishly at the wait staff and the other patrons, who were clearly terrified that one of them was going to do damage to the restaurant.
“… let’s stop,” she said quietly.
“That might be a good idea.” Even he looked a bit guilty. The flames died down instantly. “I apologize. I got carried away.”
She ventured a small grin, and tried to joke. “You should get carried away more often. Adds a degree of excitement.”
“Out of the question,” he said, though he seemed to relax. “I’ve incurred enough property damage in my lifetime.”
“Ah, time-out chamber,” she laughed, with a hand on her heart. “Rest in peace, old friend.” She let her hands rest in her lap, pursed her lips, and said, “I had plans. Still have them. I’ve let enough of them get derailed as is. You’re not going to change my mind on this one.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then finally switched to Vietnamese. “And if I told you I was concerned, would that change anything?”
“… I would be very grateful.” Tuyen smiled across the table. “But it wouldn’t change a thing, no.”
Lanh nodded ruefully. “I’d gathered as much.”
***
“Maybe you coming tonight wasn’t such a good plan.”
As they walked through the archway and across the grounds, Lanh shot her a dubious glance. “I thought you wanted me to come.”
“No, I said it was very sweet, but on second thought, not the best idea,” Tuyen said with a cavalier shrug. “I think you’re in bigger danger than I am.”
“… elaborate, please?”
“Chen,” she whispered with relish. “He’s totally obsessed with you.”
“That’s entirely subjective,” he said, though his perfect posture deflated just a little. “One could say he’s obsessed with you.”
“No, he just likes to torture me. There’s a difference. I’m just saying, if he tried to give you cognac again, you should guard your virtue with your life.”
“Yes, Tuyen, thank you for being as vulgar as possible.”
“You call that vulgar? Give me a minute and I‘ll do better.” She turned back to face forward. They may have been trying a little hard to return to their normal repartee, but she didn’t mind that. She wasn’t up to discussing it anymore.
As they approached the wide, clear lake in the back of the grounds, she saw her tutor almost instantly. It was hard to miss Professor Chen: he was the tallest man she knew, and had a tendency to spice up his uniform with the most ridiculous accessories she’d ever seen. That night, he’d worn his favorite beret, and had set up two lawn chairs near the lake. Tuyen smiled wryly to herself. Whatever she could say about Chen, he knew Lanh well.
“Tuyen!” Chen stood on tiptoes, as if he needed to, and waved. “My nymph! My plum blossom! My top student!”
“Professor Chen,” she sighed as she approached him, “I just saw you last night.”
“Ah, has it really been so short?” Chen let his hands flutter to Tuyen’s shoulders. “It felt like an eternity!”
When she glanced urgently back at him, Lanh reluctantly interjected, “Good evening, Professor.”
“… Lanh!” Chen nearly shoved Tuyen aside in his hurry to sidle up to Lanh. “Are you going to be keeping us company again tonight?”
“It would seem that way,” Lanh said.
“Just couldn’t pass up the chance to spend time with me, yes?” Chen leaned over to nudge Tuyen in the ribs. “He’s so shameless, isn’t he?”
“Isn’t he just?” she echoed, singsong.
“All right, all right,” Chen laughed, catching Lanh’s stony expression. “Lanh here is obviously ready to go, so let’s pull ourselves together, young lady. You remember what’s on the agenda for tonight, don’t you? Get out there and show me as many standards as you can.”
“Understood,” she said with a nod. “And when do you want me to stop?”
“Stop if it starts to hurt,” Lanh said immediately.
Chen cleared his throat, then smiled down at Tuyen. “Stop when you think you should stop, dear.”
“Understood,” she said again, moving down to the side of the lake. She started to strip off her uniform; she was still wearing her jogging uniform underneath, and it was easier to move in. There was a beat of silence before she heard Chen and Lanh begin a quiet conversation behind her. Tuyen held in a breath as she busied herself braiding her hair, all while straining to listen.
“… don’t give me that,” Chen was saying. “She’s doing fine.”
“It’s not. A good. Idea.” Tuyen fingers snagged on a tangle, but she continued the braid.
“She’s been practicing, hasn’t she?”
“What do you think?” Lanh’s voice was completely flat. She could picture that impassive expression.
“Why so hostile all of a sudden? I’ve made good on my promise.”
“In the loosest sense of the word.”
“Aw, come on now. Everything I do is for you two, you know.”
A long pause. “Stop talking to her like she doesn’t understand what’s going on. She’s not stupid.”
“My, did I ever say she was?” Chen said, innocent. “I’m not the one treating her like a child.”
“I’m not. She just doesn’t get it, that’s all.”
“Just don’t tell me you’re thinking of ruining the surprise.”
“If you hadn’t noticed, my hands are a bit tied.”
“Aren’t you excited?” Chen asked. “Before long, you’ll be able to take any assignment you want.”
“I’ll stick with this one, thanks.” She could picture Lanh’s shrug.
“What a waste,” the professor sighed. “We can take it from here just fine.”
“I’ve never been a fan of your definition of those words.”
“Of course. The day you start trusting me, I’ll break out the champagne. Although I think the cognac I brought would work nicely tonight, don’t you think?” Tuyen heard boots across the damp grass, and Chen’s hand thumped against her shoulder, making her jump. “All set?”
Tuyen exhaled, fixed a smile on her face, and turned around. “Completely.” When Chen’s mouth thinned, she added, “Yes, I know. I should have told him not to come.”
“And yet…” Chen sighed.
“And yet,” she said ruefully. “Won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Listen, darling…” Chen squeezed her shoulder. “Please don’t be too upset if tonight doesn’t go well. Your health is more important than anything else.” And winking, he headed back up the embankment to his lawn chair.
Tuyen turned to watch him go, and met Lanh’s eyes for just a moment. Turning back to the lake, she shook her head, and let the smile drop. “Yeah,” she murmured. “So I keep hearing.”
I'll probably just backdate the In Descending Order chapters, so next is either The Imperial Guard or some fanfics...
