Sister Cities

Part 35: Caitlyn (14 Years Ago)

But I've read this script and the costume fits

So I'll play my part

________________________________________________________________________________

The cotillion ball is the day after the enforcers squander the Undercity rebellion, so the entirety of dinner is subdued— anyone I ask claims they're happy and proud of our success, but their body language suggests that they're nervous more than anything. Unsettled. Perhaps they fear a second attack.

I don't. I saw the wreckage from the Council room. It was horrific. I know the citizens down there are criminals, but I don't think they deserved to die. There just wasn't any other option; the enforcers had to defend Piltover.

Perhaps that's why everyone is nervous: they feel sorry for the Undercity. The way most of them talk, however, I'm not confident about that.

Mum did my hair up with strings of opals and bought me a new gown from the boutique. It's white, like everyone's, with a full skirt and lace on the neckline that I told her was itchy, but that she told me I could endure for a few hours. I wait until the rehearsed class dance is over and the guests have begun mingling throughout the ballroom to give myself a good scratch. Many of the other girls are spinning around together, but I'm not really friends with any of them, so I linger by the glass door. It rained earlier today, and the patio sparkles.

After a long time smiling and curtseying to aristocrats who pass by, I hear someone whisper-call "Caitlyn!" and turn to see Rosemary and Lydia approaching, clearly enacting a clandestine scheme. I raise my eyebrows. Rosemary points to the door.

"We're going to play outside!" she hisses. "Would you like to join us?"

I scan the room and find Mum conversing animatedly with Councilor Bolbok; Dad is out of sight.

"I can't," I whisper anyway. I scarcely even speak to Rosemary and Lydia in the first place.

"But you look miserable," Lydia says. "It will only be for a little while."

"This is the cotillion ball," I say. "To 'play' on a night like this would be improper."

"You are such a goody-two-shoes," says Rosemary.

They carefully pull the door open and prance out onto the patio. I watch them with the corner of my eye and force my annoyance into a bland smile for the benefit of anyone nearby. I'm not a "goody-two-shoes"— I merely understand my duty. If the others are immature, that's a problem with them, not me.

I take a second glance at Mum and run out the door.

"Caitlyn!" Lydia whispers delightedly. The string quartet is still audible on the patio in a warped, distant manner that makes it feel as though I'm a world away from where I just was, rather than five feet. She and Rosemary are dancing around with most indignity, swinging their limbs every which way. Lydia's braid has already started coming undone.

Mum would prefer that I marry someone with whom I can produce an heir to our House. I'm only interested in girls, so my courting pool is small, and Lydia isn't in it. Mum likes her, though. By the time I'm old enough to marry, I'm sure she'll understand that there are more important things than heirs.

Lydia and Rosemary pull me into the fray. They both have their shoes off, so I take mine off too, as well as my stockings. They're the ones with the tiny, woven-in gems that itch as badly as my neckline. The chilled marble of the patio feels nice against my feet.

"This isn't the performance," Lydia says, grabbing both of my hands. "Stop trying to follow the routine."

Her hands are soft. I let her pull me around and emulate her every movement, the music switching from fast to slow to fast again. Rosemary eventually insists that we move into the garden instead. I'm not allowed to go barefoot on grass, especially when it's just rained, but they run ahead of me and I can't help but follow.