The Red Rose and the Briar

November 789 U.C., Heinessen

The spring semester passed in a blur for Annerose. She was busy almost all the time with one thing or another. Jessica got her to participate in even more women’s society activities, she joined the spring intramural soccer session, and her schoolwork became more demanding as the year went on. And, of course, she spent a lot of time with Schenkopp.

She ate dinner with him several times a week, either at a restaurant or, more commonly, in his apartment off campus. It was a small and neat place, and he was a surprisingly good cook. On Tuesdays, the only day when their class schedules didn’t clash badly, they would eat lunch together. If the weather was nice, they would sit underneath the huge tree in front of the library; if the weather was poor, they would deign to eat in one of the dining halls. Schenkopp invited her to things (parties, bowling with his friends, a professional soccer match he had won tickets to), and invited himself to her activities (her chorus concerts, the occasional intramural match). She didn’t admit to herself that she liked it when he asked if he could come somewhere with her, but she definitely did.

Her annoyance over his “fight” with Reinhard faded quickly. They had spoken about it over the phone the day after it had happened, and he had apologized for misjudging the situation. However, he apparently had formed a rather positive opinion of Reinhard during the whole thing, shocking Annerose, so, when he complimented her brother, she couldn’t help but be a little pleased. And then he had offered to show her how to use an axe (“Because, you never know, you might end up needing it in the future.”) and she had taken him up on the offer. She could justify it to herself by saying that it was a useful skill, and she would be stupid not to learn something that could save her life or give her an advantage. But really, that was neither the reason that she said yes, nor the reason that he had offered, and they both knew it.

She liked to see him move, and she liked the feeling of him watching her. She liked when he put his hands on her, to adjust her position or to show her something. She liked to feel the weight of the axe, and her blood pounding in her ears. At first, she had been afraid of it, worried that she would actually manage to hurt Schenkopp, but he first encouraged her to use her whole strength, then sternly told her that she would be building bad habits if she didn’t. So, she did, and found that there was a certain thrill in letting herself go.

She liked the rare times when she managed to get the advantage on him, either through mistake or skill or trickery, and he would say something like, “Well, Ms. von Müsel, what are you going to do with me, now that you have me on the ground?” It always embarrassed her, to see him smile like that from whatever compromised position she had him in, and she would back off, but she would always spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

And she liked the evenings she spent in his apartment, when he would lean over her on the couch and kiss her, and smile, and run his hands up over her sides. The first time it had happened, he had asked, “Do you want this, Annerose?” and she hadn’t known how to respond, her thoughts crashing around in her head. She didn’t want to want. But the fear of her own desire didn’t stop the desire from being there, and it certainly didn’t stop Schenkopp from also being right there, wanting to give her what she wanted. She had let herself be carried along into this situation, every step justifying her actions with some weak ulterior motive, but there was no acceptable excuse here, and she didn’t like being confronted with that truth. But she did like being there, so she managed to nod, and that was enough, and it was a simpler matter from there.

Annerose was, perhaps for the first time in her life, truly happy.

One warm Thursday night, after the women’s society meeting, Jessica had invited her and Dusty out to get ice cream from a place a few blocks off campus. They sat on the metal tables outside, underneath a humming bright light, eating their desserts.

“I can’t believe you’re graduating, Dusty,” Jessica said. “Who’s going to write our glowing column now?”

“The editor-in-chief is also graduating, so maybe you’ll get someone who’s less of a stick in the mud about women, and let one of your actual society members do it. You could write for the Liberty Bell, Annerose.”

“Why is it that people are always trying to get me to do things for them?” Annerose asked. “I’m very busy, you know.”

“It’s because you don’t say no often enough,” Jessica said. “You’re too reliable.”

“I’ve said no to plenty of things,” Annerose protested. “Besides, my writing is nothing special.”

“A two hundred word monthly writeup of the women’s society’s activities doesn’t exactly require Shakespearian prose,” Dusty said.

Annerose shook her head. “If they don’t find someone else to write it, maybe I’ll consider it. But it’s premature to worry about until the fall.”

“I just want to be sure I’m leaving it in good hands.”

“You don’t trust your underclassmen in the club?”

“About as far as I can throw them,” Dusty said. “Some of them have the worst taste.”

“You’ll just have to start a zine of your own when you get to your assignment,” Jessica said. “Whatever ship you’re posted on, provide them with some enlightening literature.”

Dusty laughed. “Maybe.”

“Do you know where you are going to be posted?”

“Not a clue,” Dusty said. “But if I spent too much energy hypothesizing about it, I’d drive myself crazy.”

“Maybe you’ll end up in the sixth fleet with Jean,” Jessica said.

“A fleet’s a big place; it seems statistically unlikely we’d be anywhere near each other.”

“Sure,” Jessica said. “I don’t deny that.” She sighed a little.

“Tell you what,” Dusty said, “If I do see him, I’ll pester him to propose to you.”

“Please don’t,” Jessica said. “That would be too weird.”

“Or maybe, in my zine that you want me to write, I’ll just end every issue with a reminder for everybody to go propose to their girlfriends, because life is short, and it’s better to get married.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Annerose said, but she laughed.

“Maybe so,” Dusty said with a grin. He changed the topic. “What about you, what are you doing at the end of the year?”

“Going back home,” Annerose said. “It will be good to see my brother again. Though Wrightsville itself is pretty boring.”

“That’s pretty close to Heinessenopolis, right?” Jessica asked.

“Like a half hour by train,” Annerose said. "Have you been to Heinessenopolis?”

“A couple times, with my dad.” Jessica tapped her chin. “Were you paying attention at the meeting tonight?”

“Of course.”

“So you were listening when people were talking about the summer placement program?”

“I thought that was only for upcoming juniors and seniors.”

“They get priority, but anyone can apply,” Jessica said. “I think you’d be a good fit for it.”

“Why?”

“Number one: you’re a woman, and women have preferential placement, which is why we were talking about it at the meeting. Number two: you’re near the top of your class, so it would look good for you to get as many opportunities as you can. Number three: since you live in Wrightsville, you’d get placed somewhere in Heinessenopolis, which is where all the most interesting positions are, so that’s a plus. Number four: if you’re not doing anything else with your summer, you might as well apply. Jean went through the program, and he thought it was really valuable, so I might as well pressure you into doing one more thing.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to apply,” Annerose said after a second. “Aren’t you worried that someday I will start to resent you trying to help me so much?”

Jessica laughed. “Help, or incessantly meddle in your life. Should I be worried?”

“Probably not,” Annerose said. “I’ve gotten used to you by now.”

“And that means you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

“Not until I graduate, anyway.”

Jessica sighed. “Things will be different with you gone, Dusty.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive without me. Besides, I don’t think it’s me you’ll miss most.”

“What do you mean?” Annerose asked.

“Isn’t your boyfriend graduating, too?” Dusty asked.

Annerose frowned and nodded.

“You shouldn’t have made friends with a bunch of seniors as a freshman,” Dusty said. “Bad practice.”

“Too late now,” Jessica said. “But I’ll still be around, as always.”

Annerose smiled, but she bit her lip. Dusty reminding her that Schenkopp was graduating had spoiled the mood, and her ice cream was suddenly no longer appetizing. She stared out into the dark city street, suddenly seized by the feeling that the happiness that had been carrying her through the school year was about to be cut short.

Annerose and Schenkopp went out to dinner together the next night, ostensibly to celebrate the completion and submission of Schenkopp’s senior thesis. It was a nicer restaurant than they usually went to, so they had both dressed up slightly and Annerose had put on makeup, which wasn’t generally practical for day-to-day wear at the academy.

When she met him in the dim restaurant lobby, he said, “You look stunning this evening.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she replied, though she reached up to straighten his collar as she said this. He took her hand and kissed it, which almost distracted her from the anxieties about the future that she was holding tightly in her mind.

They sat down in a little booth, with a flickering candle in between them. Schenkopp ordered a bottle of wine, and when they received it, Annerose raised her glass and said, “To finishing your senior year.”

“To surviving your freshman year,” he replied, raising his own glass.

“I think I did slightly better than just survive,” Annerose said, taking a sip.

“That you did, indeed.” He smiled at her, though he seemed distracted by something, which was quite unusual for him. He drummed his fingers on the side of his wine glass, producing a faint pattering sound.

“Is there something on your mind?” Annerose asked.

“I received an answer to a question I asked a while ago,” Schenkopp said. “I suppose I have been giving it too much thought.”

“What was the question?”

“You know how I was posted to a combat unit before I came here, right?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t remember?”

“I’m just trying to set the story up in context,” Schenkopp said with a smile. “I’m a non-traditional student here; this is technically part of my ‘employment’ within the Fleet, which is why I can afford an apartment to myself.”

“I must have assumed your grandmother was paying for it.”

“It’s somewhat the other way around,” he said. “I’ve been sending her part of my paycheck to support keeping her in her apartment ever since I joined the Fleet. Heinessenopolis is a very expensive city.”

“I didn’t realize that,” Annerose said.

“I didn’t want her to have to move into a worse place after my grandfather died. Anyway, that’s not the point.” He fiddled with his napkin for a second. “Unlike traditional cadets, active duty Fleet members do have a limited ability to request their next assignment. Really limited, I mean.”

“In what way?”

“Well, if you ask for a position on the front lines, patrolling the exit to the Iserlohn corridor, you’ll probably get it, since it’s not exactly a desirable place to be if you value your own skin. But if you request a desk job on Heinessen, you’re highly unlikely to get anything of the sort. You know how it is.”

“I see.”

“I guess you can see where this is going. I put in my request, and I got the reply that my request had been approved.”

“Congratulations,” Annerose said. “Where are you going to be?”

“I’ll be joining the Rosen Ritter.”

Annerose nodded. “That’s entirely imperial expats, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you ask to go there? It seems like…” She trailed off, not wanting to offend.

“It seems like what?”

“It will be hard to advance there, right?”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s a ground combat unit, which I think already makes it more challenging, and then, well, does it look good for former imperials to rise through the ranks?”

“I’m not particularly concerned,” Schenkopp said, leaning back and taking a sip of his wine. “Several of the former regimental commanders went on to become flag officers, so there is some up and out. But even if there wasn’t…” He shrugged. “The top of the pyramid in the fleet is very narrow indeed. It’s not that I have no ambition, but I’m not going to let ambition get in the way of going where I think I’ll fit best.”

“Fit best?”

“I am a former imperial. And I prefer ground combat to space battles. Being the captain of a ship feels far too clinical for me. Same reason I didn’t originally want to come here, you know. Didn’t think I’d like the atmosphere.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” he grinned at her. “You could join me, when you graduate.”

“You see me as a ground combat specialist?”

“Why not? You’re more than half decent with an axe. And you are also a former imperial. You’d look quite good in the propaganda.”

Annerose frowned. “You know, when we first came here, Reinhard made us turn down money to be on one of those propaganda shows about imperial refugees.”

“How old was he back then?”

“Ten,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “But you wouldn’t have known it from the way he was behaving.”

“So, you’re averse to being propaganda on his behalf.”

“I think he was averse to it on mine.”

“Why do you think that is?” Schenkopp asked.

“Oh, he said it at the time. He was still very upset at the idea that I was a product that could be bought and sold for consumption. If it had been up to me, I probably would have done it and taken the money.”

“So I see no objection to you also joining the Rosen Ritter in a few years,” Schenkopp said.

“And if I say I will?”

“It’s your choice, of course. Don’t say yes simply on my behalf.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, don’t commit yourself to it right this second, at least,” he said. “A lot can change in three years.”

“Such as what?”

He smiled. “I’m certain you’ll find someone else here who you’ll want to spend your time with, and when he asks you to follow him, it might be easier for you to say yes to that.”

“What are you saying?” Annerose asked, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

“What do you mean?” Schenkopp asked. “I’m saying you have plenty more time to enjoy yourself at school. Don’t make promises now that you’ll feel bad about breaking in the future. I’m just saying that joining the Rosen Ritter will be one option out of many, and you could seriously consider it.”

She was trying to say something, or formulate something to say, when the waitress brought over their food. Schenkopp dug into his immediately, though he glanced up at Annerose, noticing that she was biting her lip and barely picking at her salad.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“I guess I just don’t understand,” she said. “Are you done with me?”

“What?” Schenkopp seemed confused. “I’m not leaving for almost another month.”

Annerose stared at the candle on the table between them, feeling like the flame was somehow moving in time to her heartbeat. The center of it burned a dark spot into her vision, but she didn’t look away. “You’re telling me that I should find someone else.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” he said. “What would be the point of that?”

“And you?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Schenkopp said, though his voice was hesitant, as though he was aware that she already had. “I don’t make promises to people about what I’m going to do with myself. I think you’re a great person, Annerose, and I love spending time with you. I have enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together, and I will continue enjoying those moments for as long as you’ll continue to let me. But I don’t want to be-- can’t even imagine myself being-- lonely for the next three years.” He shrugged. “If you do decide to join the Rosen Ritter, when you get there, or whatever you’re doing when we meet up in the future, then we can maybe enjoy each other's company again.”

“Oh,” Annerose said. She felt like that was all she could manage without crying, and she wasn’t going to cry in front of Schenkopp-- no, she wasn’t going to cry in the restaurant into her salad-- no, she wasn’t going to cry at all.

“I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear to you,” Schenkopp said. “And I’m very sorry if you feel like I’ve been leading you on.”

“I gave you everything,” Annerose said. “I thought--”

“You didn’t ask for a promise from me, and I didn’t ask one from you.” He looked at her, his expression gentle. “If you had, I wouldn’t have given you one. I wish I had realized that you wanted something more.”

“What I wanted?” Her voice was slightly bitter now, unintentionally. She stabbed at her salad with her fork. “I should not have been so forward as to want things.”

“Annerose,” he said. “It’s not wrong to have needs.”

Her face felt like it was on fire. “Let’s be clear, Walter,” she said, though her voice was cracking, “I do not need you.”

“I know,” he said. “I know.”

She took a drink from her wine, hated the taste suddenly, but finished her glass. She didn’t speak anymore, and she ate her dinner quickly, trying not to look at Schenkopp. She was aware that he was looking at her, though. A hot, bubbling feeling sat in her chest, and she struggled to push it down, to call it irrelevant and nothing. The feeling of his eyes on her made it worse. The fact that he wasn’t saying anything made it worse.

She wished that she could say that she didn’t care, or even that she hated him, but it was clear that neither of those things were true. She had told Reinhard months ago that it would have been premature to say that she loved Schenkopp, and it had been premature then, and then it had been something she hadn’t wanted to admit to. Wanting! She was angry at herself, and she hated herself for being a fool, and she hated herself for still wanting, regardless of how much she sat there and burned and tried to cut the feeling out of herself.

They finished eating, and Schenkopp paid. Outside the restaurant, the air was warm and smelled like it was going to rain. The sun was down below the edges of the buildings, turning the sky blistering shades of red, clouds approaching dark and heavy from the other direction. A stiff wind was blowing, scattering litter down the street.

“Can I safely assume that you don’t want me to walk you back to your dorm?” Schenkopp asked.

“I don’t think you should assume anything about what I want,” Annerose said, the anger spilling out into her voice, against her better judgement.

“Oh?” Schenkopp looked at her oddly. She stiffened her lip and stared at him, chin slightly lifted.

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, but when he started walking, she followed him. They were going in the same direction, after all. His apartment was quite close to campus. They walked in an ugly silence for a little longer, the sky growing dimmer and the wind growing somewhat stronger, pushing them along the street.

When they arrived at the place where their paths would diverge, in front of the student union building, they both stopped.

“I’m not making assumptions about what you want,” Schenkopp said. “So you’ll have to tell me. Do you want me to say goodnight, or goodbye?”

For some reason, this made Annerose even angrier. She stepped towards him. “Mr. von Schenkopp,” she said, “why do you think I would want you to say anything?”

“Well, I--” he began, looking down at her.

She didn’t really understand the feeling that was possessing her, but she acted on it. If everything between them was lost anyway, what should it matter what she did?

Annerose reached up and pulled on the collar of his shirt, dragging him down towards her. There was surprise on his face for a brief second, but then Annerose was too close to even see his face, and she was pressing her mouth to his. When he opened his mouth a little, she took the opportunity to bite his lower lip, not gently at all. He made an odd sound, halfway between a laugh and something else, and pressed towards her, his hands finding her waist. She let go of his collar and put her hand on the back of his head instead, grabbing and twisting her fingers in his thick, curly hair, not caring that she was pulling it.

She had to pull back and take a breath after a moment, and a heavy drop of rain landed on her nose. She made the mistake of looking at Schenkopp’s face, which was flushed in the same way it sometimes was when she got him against the wall during their axe practice, and he said, “So, you are so forward as to want things, after all, Ms. von Müsel.”

“Shut up,” she said. Another raindrop fell, dripping down her cheek, and then there were a few cold splashes right into the center of her hair, running down her scalp. She shoved him in the direction of his apartment, and he took a few steps, walking backwards. She followed. He grinned at her.

The next afternoon, Annerose lay listlessly on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her roommates were out, and she was stewing alone. She could have gone to see Schenkopp-- he wasn’t usually doing anything at this time on Saturdays-- but considering that she had left his apartment that morning, and he was the source of her stewing, that seemed like the wrong thing to do. She should be studying, or going for a jog to clear her head, or getting some lunch at the dining hall, but she was doing none of those things. Frustrated with herself, Annerose got out of bed and sat at her desk, twisting the embroidery thread that was laying there around her fingers.

Maybe doing some embroidery would calm her down. The problem was, she didn’t have a project in progress, so she would have to start something entirely new, which was always fraught.

She pulled her notebook towards herself and put her pencil in her hand, intending to sketch out a couple designs before getting out fabric and thread. She had her sample threads pinned up above her desk, so she knew what colors she had available, and she stared at them as she thought about her design.

Unfortunately, her brain was still extremely full of thoughts of Schenkopp, which made thinking of alternative embroidery projects a rather futile exercise. She finally gave in, and started sketching out something that she thought he would like. It might as well be something he would appreciate when he went away, something that he could look at and be reminded of her, but he probably wouldn’t want something too ostentatious or girlish. He might appreciate the gift, even if it was-- she thought he was that type of person-- but she wasn’t going to make life difficult for him for no reason.

The idea that she settled on was a fairly simple one, requiring only four colors: black, tan, red, and green, though she considered that touches of white or shades of the main set might not go amiss. She sketched out a hand loosely gripping a rose, with the rose’s stem wrapping tightly around the wrist, thorns drawing blood. It was a suitably interesting image, and she had plenty of experience embroidering flowers. She gathered up a piece of cloth to sketch the design onto, but then paused.

Maybe she was being absurd.

She put her pencil down, then picked it back up again, then put it back down. What was she trying to do, here? She didn’t know. She was losing her mind, perhaps.

It was at that moment that her phone buzzed in her pocket. She was at first reluctant to look at it, thinking that the message was probably from Schenkopp, but then she steeled herself and did. Her anxiety had been unwarranted; it was Dusty, asking if she had finished her application to the summer placement program.

> yes, I submitted it yesterday afternoon

> is this really Jessica telling you to pester me?

> I’m efficient, which is different

> hey, Dusty, can I ask your advice on something

> maybe this is better discussed in person

> ok, I’ll be there in 10

> thanks

The Periscope was a coffee shop a few blocks away from campus. Annerose abandoned her embroidery project and gathered her keys and wallet to go out. The storm from the night before had continued as a light rain throughout the night, leaving the day sticky with humidity, and the sidewalks plastered with green leaves that had been ripped from their branches and glued to the ground with the water. She scuffed some of them up as she walked, not feeling so much a satisfaction from the action as a frustration that she just had to let out. She hated feeling this way.

Dusty was in the back of the coffee shop, sitting at a table with his computer in front of him, typing away at something. He waved at Annerose when she came in, but she bought herself a drink before she sat down with him.

Annerose was quiet for a little while, holding her cup of coffee in both hands and staring down into it. Dusty waited for her to say something, but it apparently took too long for his patience, so he closed his computer and said, “Well?”

“Am I going crazy?” Annerose asked. “Is that what this is?”

“I think you’ll need to give me a little more context,” Dusty said. “What did Schenkopp do?”

“I don’t think he did anything,” Annerose said. She looked out the window they were sitting near. “He’s graduating. I knew that.”

“Sorry I brought it up the other day.”

“It was going to come up whether you mentioned it or not.” Annerose stirred her coffee. “It’s an unavoidable fact.”

“So, he called things off with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“It seems like an important thing to clarify.”

She sighed heavily. “I had made assumptions that I probably shouldn’t have.”

“What, were you having dreams that Schenkopp would propose to you?” Dusty laughed. “You are aware of his reputation, correct?”

“Of course I’m aware.”

“Did you imagine that you’d be the exception that proves the rule?”

“This is making me sound like I’m some kind of fool,” Annerose said. “When I look at him, I seem to lose the vast majority of my rational thought and common sense.”

Dusty snort-laughed. “There are worse things to lose.”

“And I’ve lost all of those, too, I’m sure.”

“You know it’s normal to have feelings like that, right?” Dusty asked. “You seem actually upset by that, so I’m just making sure.”

“It might be fine for other people!”

“But not for you?”

“I don’t like to think of myself as some stupid, lovesick…” Annerose bit her lip.

“So what?” Dusty asked. “It’s not like it’s hurting anybody.”

“I don’t like to be this way.”

“And what way would you prefer to be?”

“Able to make decisions about the future without my personal feelings getting all tied up in it.”

“Did you actually come here for me to philosophize at you?” Dusty asked, leaning on his elbows and grinning. “Because I should tell you that trying to make a decision for the future that takes your happiness into account will probably end with a better result than the opposite.”

“I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you because… You’d probably give me the sanest advice.”

“This shocks and thrills me to my core. Why not Jessica?”

“You think talking with her about how Schenkopp is going to behave when he leaves is going to do her any good? She’s got a boyfriend in the fleet who won’t propose to her.”

“And your roommates?”

“One of them I doubt has had a romantic thought in her life, and the other two have their own issues.”

“And your brother?”

“Would probably kill Walter if given half an opportunity.”

“I see,” Dusty said. “I’m the option of last resort.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Last resort would be me phoning up my mother.”

“And why shouldn’t you call your mother?”

“She would probably be disappointed in me. Besides, anything I tell her would get back to Reinhard, eventually.”

“I get it, I get it,” Dusty said. “So, what advice are you actually looking for?”

“I don’t even know.” She figured she might as well describe what had happened at dinner the night before. “He told me that he’s joining the Rosen Ritter, and then told me that I could also join it, when I graduated.”

“That’s promising. Do you want to?”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay, so what did you say to him?”

“He told me that I shouldn’t make a decision on it right then, because I would probably start dating somebody else in the interim.”

Dusty laughed. “And how did you take that?”

“Not well.”

“Did he assume that you were breaking up with him?”

“I think he assumed that we would mutually agree to go our separate ways, without really discussing it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. It makes sense.”

“Going separate ways, or not discussing it?”

“Both. You really should have kept his reputation in mind.”

“I know I should have, but I didn’t.”

“So, then what?”

“When we left dinner, I thought we were done, but then, I don’t know, something came over me, and I acted… Uncharacteristically.”

Dusty wore an expression that was both curious and cheeky. “And what way was that?”

“Are you actually looking for the lurid details?”

“I didn’t think you would be the type to provide them, even if I said yes.” But his eyebrows crept even further upwards as he said this.

“I was so angry at him,” she said. “I guess I was mad that he had made all these assumptions, and I was mad that he was going to leave me, and I was mad at myself for being so stupid.”

“This has been established. But what did you do?”

“What do you think I did?” She was growing increasingly frustrated with her own inability to communicate the particular state she had been operating in. She couldn’t truthfully explain it to herself, and she felt like she was sounding as crazy as she had been acting. “I tried to hurt him, I guess.”

“You hit him?”

“No,” she said. “I forced him to kiss me, and then I pulled his hair and bit him.”

“Annerose, you know he’s absolutely wanted you to do that for months, right?”

“What?”

“Well, not that exactly, maybe, but I’m not blind. There’s a reason he spends so much time teaching you to wave an axe around: so you can be just as crazy as he is.”

“But I would have been upset if the positions were reversed.”

“Was he upset?”

“No.”

“You’re two different people, and he likes what he likes. You would have stopped if he hadn’t liked it, right?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“I feel like you would have come to your senses if he had told you to stop.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m not really seeing a problem here,” Dusty said.

“I went home with him.”

“Did you have a good time?”

Annerose stared down at the tabletop. “Yeah.” In fact, she had had an excellent time.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I shouldn’t have done any of that.”

“If you actually want to break up with him, then break up with him,” Dusty said after a second. “If you don’t, then enjoy the time you have together. It’s really pretty simple.”

“It doesn’t feel simple.”

“You think too much. Let me break it down for you. You’re attached to him. Unfortunate, maybe, because you’re going to be sad when he leaves, but there’s nothing that can be done about that. You’ll get over it eventually, I’m sure. In the meantime, you can either decide that it makes you happier to end things now, because you’re preparing for him to go, or you can decide that things will end when they end, by him leaving. He’s not going to change his mind and make some kind of eternal promise to you, whatever you do, so you might as well make the choice that makes you happy now.”

Annerose bit her lip. “So, you’re saying I should keep digging myself into this hole.”

“You have such a bleak view of love and happiness. It’s like you grew up in a stifled household, or something.”

“You’re not exactly helping.”

“I knew I was the wrong person to ask.”

“Sorry,” Annerose said. She shook her head, unable to explain her thoughts.

“Really, it’s him you should be talking to about this, not me.”

“If I see him, I stop being able to think right.”

“I should add your own rational brain to the list of things you have a bleak view of.”

“Maybe there’s nothing that I even have to say to him.” She paused. “You know what’s so stupid? Before I came here, I was starting to make him a gift. Even after he basically told me he was breaking up with me.”

“It’s fine to give him a gift and part on amicable terms. Besides, he told you to join the Rosen Ritter. That means he definitely wants to see you again.”

“I don’t know if that’s what that means. I think he might just legitimately believe I would be good there.”

“Even better. That means he respects you as a person.”

“He always has, I think.”

“And that is the trouble, isn’t it. It would be easier for me to give you advice if he was some kind of beautiful, malicious idiot.”

“And what advice would you give me then?”

“I’d have told you to break up with him before you even started dating him.”

“Too late on that.”

“He’s fine. You’re fine. I think you’re stressed out for no reason.”

“I wouldn’t call it no reason.”

“You’re not behaving nearly as strangely as you think you are. I think you’re okay.”

“I don’t feel fine.”

“Well, have you ever been in love before?”

“No,” she said with a frown.

“Love makes you crazy. Or, it makes you feel like you’re going crazy. But since it does it to everyone, you’re in good company. You’ll have at least three years to cool off in, if you’re running hot right now.”

“The thought of that doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“He’s right that you could fall in love with someone else.”

“I doubt it.”

“That’s how it always feels.”

“And how would you know?”

“As a writer, I must be capable of understanding the vast depths of the human soul,” Dusty said.

“I think you have an inflated sense of what powers of understanding writing bulletins for the student paper has given you,” she said, but she smiled.

“I take great offense to learning that you consider my reporting on all aspects of student life to be inconsequential. You know, it’s a missed opportunity that I didn’t start a relationship advice column. I would have told everyone to just do what makes them happy.”

“Not particularly useful advice when you don’t know what that is.”

“Yes, but it’s the only advice that makes any sense,” he said with a grin. “What would I call my advice column?”

“I have no idea.”

“Maybe I could be the Love Doctor.”

Annerose laughed. “Sure, you could call yourself that.”

“Has your visit with the Love Doctor helped?”

“I suppose. Though I probably could have just written my thoughts down and come to no better of a conclusion.”

“Ah, you should write it down, and submit it as a reflective essay to a literary magazine.”

“I certainly will not.”

He grinned at her. “Someday, I’ll give up on getting you to write.”

“I live in hope that that day will come sooner, rather than later.”

They chatted for a little while longer about inconsequential things, which Annerose appreciated. It didn’t exactly take her mind off of things, but it was nice. Dusty was a pleasant conversationalist and a good friend, and she would miss him when he graduated. Perhaps she should make a graduation gift for him as well, though she had no idea what he would want.

When Annerose eventually returned to her room, she looked at the sketches and thread on her desk, and she resigned herself to her own folly. She got out a piece of nice fabric from her trunk and stretched it onto an embroidery hoop. It would be a larger piece, she decided, about the size of a large sheet of paper. More of a tapestry than anything else, which wasn’t her usual taste, since it served no purpose other than as decoration. The idea made her smile, though, as she recalled the first time they had spoken about her hobby.

As she sketched out the design onto her fabric with a fabric pencil, she added one element. Among the twisting briars in the background, she wrote, in small but legible font, “Not enough to be beautiful.”

She worked on the piece for several hours, even as her roommates returned and went to sleep, until her eyes grew blurry and she couldn’t keep the stitches straight.

December 798 U.C, Heinessen

“Welcome back home,” Reinhard said when Annerose arrived at their apartment, luggage in tow. He hadn’t been able to pick her up at the airport, because he had been in school, and she had sternly told him that he would not skip class on her account.

“Is that you cooking?” she asked. “It smells delicious.”

“The least I could do was have dinner ready when you got back.”

“You’re so domestic.” She made her way into the kitchen and investigated the contents of the oven, which turned out to be a tray full of sausage and roast potatoes, which were just being kept warm. “I suppose I should be glad that you’ve become so proficient in my absence.” She stood up and looked at him. “And so tall. Every time I see you I feel like you’ve grown another inch.”

“Would you like me to stop growing?”

“Yes, please pile some bricks on your head, on my behalf.”

“As you wish,” Reinhard said with a smile. “How did your final exams go?” He washed his hands and began setting the kitchen table, two places. Annerose looked askance at that.

“Fine. Where’s mom?”

“Out.”

“Out?”

Reinhard shrugged. “She’s been feeling a bit better recently, so she’s been going to these society meetings on Monday nights.”

“What kind of society?”

“Some Phezzani fad. She saw it advertised on TV. Chanting and meditation to restore balance to the mind, or something.”

“You didn’t investigate?”

“I’m not her babysitter,” Reinhard said. “She’s certainly capable of going where she pleases. Besides, it’s probably good for her to make some friends and get out of the house. Healthy, you know.”

Annerose bit her lip. “I could say the same for you.”

“I’m sorry that I have no interest in chanting and meditation,” Reinhard said. “But it seems harmless, and she likes it, so I’m not worried.”

“I suppose I can trust your judgement.”

“You can make your own, since you’ll be here for the summer.”

“I’ll be pretty busy, you know.”

“With what?” Reinhard asked.

“I’ve been placed in an internship, starting tomorrow,” Annerose said. “I think I mentioned that I had applied for it a while ago.”

“Ah, I assumed nothing had come of it, since you didn’t bring it up again,” Reinhard said, putting on oven mitts and pulling the dinner out.

“Oh, the assignment just came through recently. I was just saving the news until I got home, in case you wanted to celebrate.”

“Of course, I’d love to,” Reinhard said. “Congratulations.” He smiled broadly at her. “What shall we do to celebrate?”

Annerose sat down at the table and opened up her luggage, pulling out a carefully wrapped bottle and holding it up. “Perhaps it’s lucky that our mother is not at home.”

“You would encourage me in underage drinking?” Reinhard asked. “What a scandal.”

“You can have one glass of wine,” Annerose said. “We won’t form any bad habits that way.”

Reinhard laughed. “I don’t believe we have any of the proper glasses.”

“I’m sure it tastes no different in a coffee mug than in a goblet.” She pulled open the drawer behind her and found the rarely-used bottle opener.

“Where’d you get that?” Reinhard asked. “I didn’t think you were the type to frequent the liquor store.”

“I’m a different woman now,” Annerose said. “I frequent whatever stores I like.” She was joking, of course, and Reinhard knew it. “No, Walter gave it to me, as a going away gift.”

“Hm,” Reinhard said. “How nice of him.” She noticed that he was carefully not looking at her as he said this.

“Is it?” Annerose asked, and the twist of her voice was unhappy, rather than joking, this time.

Reinhard sat down at the table. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Did he do something to you?”

“No, not at all.” Annerose didn’t meet his eyes.

“Then why are you looking like that.”

She took a moment to serve herself some of the potatoes and sausage and roasted onions, anything that would allow her to not say something immediately. As he waited for her to speak, Reinhard opened the bottle of wine and poured some into their cups.

“He’s going back into active service,” Annerose said. “That is all.”

“Hm.” Reinhard took a sip of his wine. It almost broke Annerose’s funk to see him scrunch up his face at the taste of it. She took a sip of her own and raised her eyebrows. “An acquired taste, it seems,” Reinhard said.

“Perhaps it’s for the best if you’re not so quick to acquire it,” she said with a smile.

“Perhaps,” he said. He took another sip, this time without flinching. “Is he going to be faithful to you when he’s away?”

Annerose dug her fingernails into her palm, but when she saw Reinhard looking, she placed her hand in her lap so that he wouldn’t see it.

“You think he won’t be?” Reinhard asked.

“He made it clear that things were over between us,” Annerose said, as delicately as she could, looking away. “At least for now.”

“And yet he’s giving you parting gifts.” He raised his glass. “Does he mean to lead you on?”

“He’s not leading me on to anything,” Annerose protested. “I can’t stop him from doing what he likes while he’s away, and…”

“And?”

“It should have been clear to me that he was making no promises to me,” Annerose said.

“But it wasn’t?”

“It may surprise you to learn that I am capable of being young and foolish.”

“Did he take advantage of you?”

“Reinhard,” she said.

“Annerose.”

“He’s a good man,” she finally said. “It’s not taking advantage, if I don’t regret any of the time I spent with him. I’m just upset that he’s leaving. That’s really all.”

Reinhard crossed his arms. “You say things like you’re trying to disguise what really happened.”

“I don’t need to discuss the private details of my relationship with him,” Annerose said. “It’s not exactly your business.”

“It is if you’re getting hurt.”

“There are situations in which a person can be unhappy, with no one really at fault. I can’t blame him for graduating. It’s not as though I could freeze the passage of time.”

“He could stay faithful to you.”

“He wouldn’t make a promise like that,” Annerose said.

“Then I find it hard to believe that he is as good of a man as you say.”

“I don’t own him,” she said. “He’s a free man. And I would miss him, even if he had made some sort of promise to me. It’s probably less cruel to both of us if he says that it’s over.”

“So he’s going to do what he likes to do with women on the other side of the galaxy, and you’re going to, what?” Reinhard asked. “He’s let you be free in the wind?”

“If I like,” Annerose said, and turned her chin up in a stubborn expression. “He doesn’t own me, either.”

“But will you?”

“And what should it matter to you?”

“It seems to me,” Reinhard said, “that he has gotten you invested, where he doesn’t and hasn’t felt the same way. I would call that taking advantage, of your emotions, at least. I certainly would call it that if he expects you to come running back to him when you see him again.”

“I doubt he expects that.” Annerose took a couple bites of her food. “I don’t know why this upsets you so much.”

Reinhard frowned. “It seems cruel to you.”

“I think it would be crueler still to make a promise, and then decide to break it while we’re apart.” She looked at him with a calculating expression. “Certainly you aren’t going to remain alone for the rest of your life, no matter what promises you’ve made in the past.”

Reinhard’s expression darkened, and his hand found the locket underneath his shirt. “I most certainly will keep the promises that I made.”

“And you expect…” She paused a moment. It still made her somewhat uncomfortable to directly acknowledge the substance of Reinhard’s relationship with Kircheis. “He… will feel the same?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“Then, perhaps,” Reinhard said, his voice cutting, “you did not actually love Schenkopp at all. If you did, you would understand.”

Annerose raised an eyebrow. “And what don’t I understand about love, that my baby brother somehow does?”

“Kircheis is the other half of myself,” he said. “There will be no one else. That is what love is.”

“Then I will pray that you don’t say things with such passion, only to have to regret that passion in the future.”

“My mind is not easily changed.”

“I know. Nor are your eyes easily opened.”

Reinhard frowned. “I wish you could understand.”

“And I wish you could understand me,” she said. “But if love is the only thing we are never to agree on, then perhaps we should stop discussing it with each other at all.”

Reinhard shook his head. “I would prefer that we didn’t have to keep secrets.”

“Why? Because you want to know if you need to go out and gallantly duel on my behalf, if someone breaks my heart?”

Reinhard bit his finger, an odd habit of his that he did when his emotions were running high.

“I don’t need to keep secrets from you,” Annerose said, when he didn’t respond, “but I would like you to think me capable of making my own choices, even if they’re foolish choices. And if you can’t think that, then I can’t discuss it with you anymore. That’s all.”

“Clearly, I haven’t been able to stop you,” Reinhard said. “You didn’t used to be like this.”

“No?” She bit her lip. “Perhaps not.”

He looked down at his plate, silent.

Annerose sighed. “Maybe I do understand you better, now,” she said.

“In what way?”

She picked up her mug full of wine and swirled it around for a second. “In discovering how to be happy, I have found it much harder to be content.”

He looked up at her, their eyes meeting. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She looked away.

“I think it must be.”