Maro saw her and began to climb to his feet. One of Juen’s men put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down roughly. Shae protested, “Let him stand up,” but Maro did not make another attempt to rise. He remained where he was and looked up at her with a desolate expression.
It did not make any sense. Maro could not have planted a car bomb. He and Shae had not ended their relationship on speaking terms, a fact that saddened her and filled her with regret, but Maro was not a vindictive personality. He had no clan interests, no appetite for violence, and no matter what anger he might feel toward her, he had nothing at all to gain from killing Hilo.
“They weren’t supposed to hurt anyone else,” Maro said quietly. “That’s what they promised me. I would never have cooperated if I thought they might hurt you or the children.”
If there had been something nearby for Shae to hold on to, she would’ve reached out to steady herself. “The meeting that you asked me to set up with Hilo months ago. That was this morning.” Understanding pushed into her resisting mind like a thin blade. “That’s how the assassins got in.”
Maro’s face crumpled like paper. “The meeting was real,” he said. “None of the Four Virtues staff were in on the plan, I swear to you on my life. All I was asked to do was add a couple of fake college interns to the group at the last minute. They told me to get them through the gates to see the Pillar, that was all. They never gave me any other details.”
Juen drew in a breath between his teeth. The idea of an enemy trying to strike at the Pillar in his own home was inconceivable. All of Hilo’s meetings were approved by his Pillarman, Weather Man, or Horn. An aspiring murderer’s hostile intentions would be Perceived by the guards and he would never get anywhere near the Pillar, nor would he escape alive. However, one or two unarmed visitors with seemingly legitimate credentials and no jade, attached to an otherwise honest party, would not raise suspicion. Once through the gates, they could find an opportunity to wander a short distance to the family garage. It was clear from Maro’s wretched look that despite his complicity in the affair, he had not anticipated a planted car bomb any more than they had.
“Who were they?” Shae felt as if she’d been stabbed and the knife was lodged in her rib cage. “Who approached you?”
Maro pressed the base of one palm to his eyes. “There were three of them. The leader was half-Shotarian and wore jade hidden. I heard the others call him Soradiyo.”
“Barukan.” Juen spat. “I’ve heard the name Soradiyo before. He’s a rockfish recruiter who works for Zapunyo.”
The expectant stares and auras of the surrounding Fists and Fingers were like a hot physical pressure against Shae’s skin. She turned to Juen. “Let me talk to him alone for a few minutes.” After a second, she added in an undertone, “Please,” because as Weather Man, she had no authority over Fists, and with Maik Kehn’s death, Juen Nu was now the acting Horn of No Peak.
Juen shifted a slow gaze to the prisoner on the ground, then returned it to the Weather Man. He motioned for the other Green Bones to back off and take up vigilant positions elsewhere, but he himself made no move to leave. “It would be irresponsible of me to leave you alone with this man, Shae-jen,” Juen said, and Shae understood this to be less an expression of concern for her safety than a reminder that as Horn, he was her equal, and had every right to hear what was said if it involved threats to the clan. Shae did not try to argue further. The inside of her throat seemed to be swelling and she was afraid it would soon close up completely. She made herself walk to Maro and kneel in front of him so their eyes were on the same level. “Why did you do it?” The whisper that emerged from her throat was dry and unrecognizable. Plaintive. “Did I hurt you that badly?”
Maro’s eyes filmed with sadness. “Yes. But that’s not why.” He dropped his face into his hands. “They got to me, Shae. The barukan gangs are powerful in Shotar, and they’re ruthless. They found out about my visits and phone calls to Leyolo City.” Maro’s shoulders were shaking now and his voice was muffled. “At first, they tried to blackmail me with the information. When I refused and ignored them, they sent me photos of my father. Of my half sisters and little nieces behind the windows of their homes. Close-up pictures of them in their neighborhood, at school, on the playground. I was told that if I didn’t do as Soradiyo asked, something would happen to them. They would never know why.”
Shae gripped Maro’s forearms and pulled his hands away from his face. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve done something—protected your family, gone after the barukan…”
Maro raised his eyes and the bleak accusation she saw in them dried the words in her mouth. “Did you tell anyone when you felt threatened? When you realized you had no choice?” he asked. Shae could not reply. Maro had been visibly nervous the evening after Woon’s wedding, wanting to talk, hoping for reconciliation. Instead of offering it to him, she’d told him the truth that she knew would drive him away.
Maro’s shoulders slumped and he turned his face away. “Soradiyo promised that if I let a word out to anyone, the barukan would get to my nieces sooner or later and send me their tiny fingers one by one. Maybe it was a bluff, but I didn’t dare call them on it. Even though my sisters are Shotarian, and I’m Kekonese, they welcomed me. They made me a part of their lives, of their children’s lives. I could never put them in any danger.” His jaw tightened, and bitterness slid edgewise into his voice. “You never brought me into your life. You kept me away, kept secrets from me, didn’t even tell me when you decided to get rid of our—” He stopped, his eyes flickering toward Juen, still standing nearby and watching them.
Maro jammed his lips together. His hands clenched in his lap, the knuckles white. There was blackboard chalk on the cuffs of his sleeves, a detail that had become so familiar in the time Shae had known him that she was surprised to be noticing it again now of all times, as if it were something new. “You say you would’ve protected my family, but the truth is that the clans protect only themselves. Would No Peak really help strangers, especially Shotarians? You won’t even go against the Espenians on the issue of Oortokon refugees.” Maro shook his head slowly. “The Green Bone clans rule Kekon—but only Kekon. If the barukan wanted to go after my sisters’ families in Shotar, they’d find a way. Who in Kekon would care, besides me? I couldn’t take such an awful risk. I knew they’d try to kill your brother—why else would they want to get past the guards?—but you’d already chosen your clan over me; I had to choose my family’s safety over yours. I had to do as they asked.”
“Why did you come here?” Shae cried, almost angrily. “If the barukan are as powerful as you say, why didn’t you ask them to get you out of the country?”
Maro let out a short, helpless chuckle. “Who in their right mind believes they can escape the justice of the clan? Green Bones have no equal when it comes to dispensing violent punishment. You know that more than anyone. Once your brother whispered my name, I’d spend the rest of my life as a dead man in waiting. At least this way, I had a chance to face you and explain myself in person.”
The resentment left Maro’s face and he gazed at her in sad resignation. “I never imagined this, Shae. Dying by the blade—that’s for greener men. I would’ve been happy with books, and conversation, and… occasional silly romantic musicals. What we had together was real and perfect, for a while.” He smiled weakly, then breathed a sigh that seemed physically laborious before dabbing the edge of his sleeve to his perspiring brow and looking up stoically at Juen. “Please make it quick.”