Chancellor Son pursed his thick lips. Speaking thoughtfully, but not without a touch of pride, “I suppose, after a lifetime of public service, what is one more year?” He fixed Shae with a sober, calculating gaze before hefting his chasso bow and turning back to the path. “I remain a loyal friend of the clan, Kaul-jen, but I can’t hold back a tide. Most people don’t understand the trade agreements or care about the Espenians’ security concerns. Many don’t see why we should accommodate foreigners at all. You’re walking a thin line. If you keep pitting the interests of No Peak against the will of the country, you won’t prevail.”
Shae was not normally a heavy drinker, but she had several glasses of wine at Woon’s wedding reception the following evening. Sometime after midnight, the bride and groom departed to the cheers of the guests, in a limousine festooned with red and yellow peonies symbolizing marital happiness and fertility. Shortly afterward, Shae left the party and retired to the Weather Man’s residence. Maro, dressed in a pressed blue linen suit and tie, walked with her to the front door. She paused before she went inside and turned to him over her shoulder. “Do you want to come in for a little while?”
She wasn’t sure if it was politeness, or drunken wistfulness, or something else that made her ask, but in that moment, she hoped he would say yes. Dozens of people had seen them leave the reception together, but having already endured and survived national public scandal, Shae no longer cared if there was clan gossip tomorrow morning.
Maro glanced away, then back at her with a hopeful but cautious expression. “For a little while,” he said.
Inside, Shae took off her shoes and sat down on the sofa, rubbing her sore feet. Maro poured two tall glasses of chilled mint water from the pitcher in her fridge. Shae accepted one of them gratefully and pressed the cold glass to her forehead before draining half of it. Although the Weather Man’s house was at the far end of the central courtyard, she could still hear the music and Perceive the energy of the remaining crowd like a distant background throbbing. By now, her body had acclimated to carrying less jade, but at times she felt as if her senses were softened, muted around the edges. The alcohol she’d consumed exacerbated the effect; she was tired and everything seemed slightly gauzy.
Maro sat down at the other end of the sofa and leaned back, loosening his tie and taking a drink from his own glass of water. He didn’t appear as inebriated as she felt. “Your friend Woon Papi must be very dedicated to the clan,” he said. “Your family threw quite the party for him.”
“He was my eldest brother’s best friend.” And mine. “He deserves it.”
“Well, thank you for inviting me.” Maro turned the glass in his hands. “And I appreciate you setting up a meeting for Four Virtues to talk to your brother.” As if trying to fill the air between them, he continued, “I’ve been on their steering committee for a while. They’re doing good work but can only get so far without more high-profile support. It would be an enormous step for the major clans to publicly acknowledge the need for Kekon to take a more active role in international humanitarian efforts.” He looked to her as if hoping for agreement. “Perhaps we can convince your brother to lend his support to the Oortokon Conflict Refugee Act.”
Shae was in no mood to explain the situation involving the clan’s business interests and the pressure from the Espenian government, nor suggest that she was the one holding Chancellor Son and the Royal Council accountable to questionable foreign interests. “Let’s not talk politics right now,” she said.
Maro tugged at his collar. “If you say so,” he said uncertainly, as if Shae had snatched away the last of their safe conversation topics. A swollen silence hung between them. Nearly five months had passed since the duel, but their relationship persisted in the awkward limbo of two objects held at a precise distance by constant centrifugal force, unable to move either closer together or farther apart. They’d spoken on the phone. They’d had lunch together a number of times. Shae still consulted Maro on questions of economics and foreign policy, and now he was hoping for the clan’s endorsement of the nonprofit work that had begun to consume a greater amount of his time. They were cordial, friendly—but they circled each other tentatively, as if the other person was a fire whose warmth they craved but knew might burn.
Maro had, on more than one occasion, implied that they could get over this difficult stretch if they were both willing to trust again. Looking at him now, handsome and earnest, seeing the longing in his eyes and the slight flush in his face, Shae wished more than anything that were true. Tonight she ached for closeness—but she did not deserve Maro’s trust and could not bear to regain it dishonestly. She considered thanking him for coming and politely showing him to the door. She considered pulling him over to her and fucking him on the floor of the living room. Neither option seemed entirely correct, nor fair to her friend. She did not regret the decisions she’d made, but she did regret that she could no longer look at Maro without seeing the impassable distance between the realities they inhabited.
“Shae.” Maro cleared his throat roughly, then got up and moved to sit next to her. His soft aura brushed against her, brimming with conflicted desire, almost distress. He had trimmed his beard and there was tension in the curve of his jaw. “I think I understand better why you shut me out before. I’ve accepted the fact that you were under a lot of pressure at the time and wanted to keep me from being targeted. But I’m not sure I can do this anymore—be your friend, that is. Someone who’s vaguely associated with your family, who gets invited to weddings, but isn’t a part of the clan itself. It’s… not a good position to be in.”
A heaviness came to rest below Shae’s rib cage. “I know. I tried it once myself and it didn’t work out.” She sank lower onto the sofa. A throbbing had begun somewhere behind her eye sockets. “You’re right. I’ve kept you at a distance and not told you the truth you deserve. I was trying to protect you from my decisions, but it was wrong of me.”
Maro’s face moved in a brief spasm. “You can’t shelter me. You know that I don’t like Green Bone culture, but I still care about you. Do you remember when I said I wanted us to be completely open and honest with each other?” He searched her face. “I need to know where I stand with you. Can you just tell me once and for alclass="underline" Is there any chance for us?”
Hilo’s words came back to her: If you’re his friend as you say, you should be honest with him. The pressure of a fierce and masochistic abandon swelled inside Shae’s chest. She wrapped a hand around Maro’s neck and kissed him. The taste and smell of him flooded into her mouth, and she sighed, filled with bittersweet ferocity as strong as the dry lingering taste of wine. When she pulled back, Shae said, “I had an abortion, Maro. I was pregnant before I fought the duel with Ayt Mada.”
Maro’s face went blank for several seconds, then he sat back as if he’d been shoved hard. A cloud passed over his gentle features, turning them wounded and ugly. The edges of his jade aura seemed to ripple and harden. “You…” His voice came out as a coarse whisper. “You kept this from me. You decided without even telling me. Just like the duel.”
“You wanted complete honesty,” Shae said. “So that’s what I’m giving to you. I love you too.” Shae looked down at her hands and found that they were clutched tightly in her lap. “You asked me if there’s any chance for us, but only you can answer that question now.”