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They call Keith a prize. The one with the most of the spoils.
Yet Kolivan hears very little of how Keith is actually doing; he's well-guarded, like a dragon's hoard. Even before their marriage, the Shirogane estate is very insular, with no one leaving the grounds. Food and other supplies are delivered, he heard, and besides business lunches and the occasional social event, the man himself is rarely seen in public.
And now he has more than rumors: proof that Keith is still safe.
It comes at the society pages, something Kolivan has no taste for but some around the factory do—tales of fine living, clothes that cost more than cars, the occasional gasp-ridden scandal. This time, a full page is devoted to the memorial.
It's on his desk, splayed open. One photo, one caption: Takashi Shirogane, prominent business tycoon, and his newly-wedded husband lay one of the wreaths.
Keith, veiled but recognizable, kneeling on stone. Shirogane, watching him, even as his hand grazes the white flowers. Both finely dressed, surrounded by a blurred crowd.
Still, it reveals little. Kolivan flicks through the tissue-thin pages, which are filled with photographs of other high society members and the parade, along with a long list of the dead surrounded by white roses. There's a whole page for donors and an address to wire money to. But nothing else.
At least he knows that much. Kolivan had done his best to send messages, and for a long time, suspected Keith tossing them into a waste bin or straight into a fire. He wouldn't blame Keith for trading him like a sack of grain, even though he was used to making these sorts of decisions—with allies, with friends, with fellow soldiers, with family. His stomach still recalls gnawing on pine wood in the winter, dividing a stale bun to last a few days, eyes on the ground for edible weeds or grubs or a precious coin.
Kolivan knows sacrifice. Knows betrayal. Knows every move could involve a pawn, something to lose. Even when wartime was over, that never left him, but Kolivan believed in an understanding bound by the war Keith's generation had escaped.
He remembers Shirogane's eyes on Keith, how he did not look away, how he bought Keith machine-woven clothes and food not scraped from the bottom of the pot. How he suggested, very delicately, that Keith would be better looked after in his house, that he knew a family's worry, that he was looking to expand but needed a companion to guide him. Kolivan had imagined Keith as head of a grand estate, a control in Marmora, safety and security only few could dream of.
He is not free, Shirogane said when he came to ask for Keith's hand. But he can be.
What is better? Kolivan wondered for days after. To be shipwrecked together or be safe separated?
Marmora is prospering, albeit under Shirogane's name. A reminder they had been put in their place, Kolivan now sees. Staff that Kolivan still does not know the names of have trickled in one by one. The guards that prevented Keith from fleeing before the wedding are still in place, hovering around the property like flies to the dead.
Kolivan has remained in control of the company. To outsiders, all seems well, but he knows his power is an illusion.
(The wedding, another sign: quick as an errand, Keith whisked away before he could say anything. He had been uneasy, but that was natural, Kolivan thought at the time. After the ceremony, he'd been escorted back to Marmora, him and the other workers, by Shirogane's guards. For his safety, they told him.)
Kolivan’s tried to drive up to the manor, once, and was stopped before he reached the gates. In retaliation, the trickle of pacifications stopped: a scrap of red velvet, a dried sprig of a flower, a translation of some poem in Keith’s handwriting.
Now, this photograph.
He has to assume everything Shirogane does has meaning. Keith being hidden is on purpose; he wants Keith—for leverage, for control, for... what?
If Keith were only allowed to go into town on his own. If he could shadow Keith, catch a glimpse of him—no. He would snatch Keith up in his arms like he was a child again and run; he can imagine the alarmed shrieks and footsteps thundering after him.
But he knows Shirogane is too careful for that to happen, for Kolivan to even get that far.
Still, he dreams of it, fighting for Keith this time. Perhaps it's not too late.
He knows enough not to trust in himself; he'd seen Shirogane look at Keith and mistaken it for devotion, for promises that would vanish by midnight, for certainty that quivers in a tune he's unused to.
So Kolivan, without a flicker of candlelight or a word to anyone, writes to Krolia, praying it reaches her before she's off again.
Keith is safe, Kolivan repeats for now, like a charm. Keith is safe.