Shae was not sure what to say. She felt grateful to Maro for confiding in her, but also oddly culpable. She and her family were very much responsible for perpetuating the Green Bone way of life, the cultural preoccupation with greenness that permeated every aspect of Kekonese society. “Did you ever try to find your father afterward?” she asked.
“I did.” Maro leaned against the headboard. “It took me a few years to even work up the courage to look for him, but I eventually found him. After the war, he married a woman in his home country. I found out that I have two Shotarian half sisters.” Maro paused, his gaze turned inward. “I went to Leyolo City six years ago for the first time to meet all of them. It was… a strange experience. I think my father never stopped feeling sad and guilty about leaving my mother, even though he had no choice because deserting the Shotarian army meant execution. I get the sense that my existence reminds him of sad times. He’s nice enough, and we still keep in touch, but…” Maro trailed off. The sun was creeping up the window. Outside, Shae could hear the chime of the street tram and the shouts of the city’s more industrious street hawkers. Maro said, with a happier note in his voice, “I’ve gotten to know my half sisters much better. They’re younger than me, of course, and the older of them—those are her two girls, my nieces, in the picture.”
Shae had always thought that the two children did not look Kekonese, but had politely refrained from questioning Maro about it. “They’re awfully cute,” she told him.
Maro got off the bed and took the framed photograph from the dresser. “That’s Kullisho,” he said, pointing to the older girl. “She’s an avid reader and loves cats.” He smiled and pointed at the younger sister. “Danallo, the little piglet, is always getting herself hopelessly covered in dirt, but she’s the sweetest little girl and says the funniest things. I hope one day if I have children that they’re half as good as my nieces.”
Shae looked at the two cherubic faces and then back over at Maro. How many Kekonese would not only admit to, but seek out, a foreign bloodline? Her own adopted cousin, Anden, had never shown any interest in his biological father or his Espenian ancestry. It still pained her to remember how unhappy he’d been about being sent to Port Massy at all. Perhaps things were different for Maro because he could easily pass as completely Kekonese, but then again, in their parents’ and grandparents’ generation, Shotarians were the most despised of foreigners. “It was brave of you to contact the Shotarian side of your family. And to make the effort to have a real relationship with them.” She meant it sincerely.
Maro put the photograph back down. “The rest of my family doesn’t think so. My grandmother’s passed away now—let the gods recognize her—but my grandfather won’t talk about it, and neither will my uncles or cousins. They think it was wrong for me to stir up something that should’ve been left alone.” Maro sighed. He picked out his clothes from the closet and began to dress, slowly. “They have reasons other than prejudice. I’m the only one in my family who wears jade. I have a good career at the university and connections to the Royal Council. The story of my real parentage would only drag our family down. So I keep it a secret, just like my mother did.”
Maro sat back down on the bed next to her. “You see? Every family has some darkness that it’s afraid to share, even the ones that aren’t famous and powerful.” At her thoughtful silence, Maro kissed the curve of her jaw, then looked at the clock on the dresser. “It’s getting late; I should get to work.”
“Me too.” Shae startled at the time. She got up and went to the closet, taking out the set of clothes she kept at Maro’s apartment. She dressed while Maro went into the bathroom to shave and was done when he got out. “I didn’t answer your question,” she said, picking up her shoes. “I do want to have you over at my new house, now that it’s finally finished. My sister-in-law is still working on decorating the inside, but I’m mostly moved in by now. Would you like to come over and have dinner sometime?”
Maro patted down his tousled hair; Shae found his rumpled professor appearance in the mornings endearingly sexy. “Even now that you know I’m a half-Shotarian bastard?” Maro said it lightly, but there was a note of worry in his voice. A suggestion that perhaps he wasn’t sure he should’ve told her so much, made himself so vulnerable.
Shae went to the door. “My cousin’s mixed blood; it doesn’t matter.” Years ago, she’d made a mistake by keeping the relationship with Jerald a secret, fearing her grandfather’s scathing disapproval. But Grandda was gone now, and she was not afraid of Hilo’s opinion, whatever it might be.
Woon was waiting in Shae’s office when she arrived, thirty minutes later than usual. He stood up as she came in, and Shae felt suddenly awkward, knowing that he suspected the reason she was late this morning and wondering if he could smell Maro all over her. He seemed unusually anxious, not his usual self. Swallowing uncomfortably, he handed her a folded piece of paper. Shae began to read it, then looked up at the Weather Man’s Shadow in bewilderment. “What is this?”
“My resignation, Kaul-jen,” Woon said.
“Your resignation?” Shae stared at him. “Why?”
The man would not meet her eyes. “You can find someone better for the position.”
Shae dropped the letter and her purse on her desk. “What’s this really about, Papi-jen?”
Woon’s normally even aura was churning with agitation. “I think you know by now,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t make me say it, Shae-jen. I value our friendship too much.”
Shae shook her head, fighting down a swell of panic. Her position was tenuous enough as it was. She’d been concerned about losing Hami’s support but had not imagined that she might lose Woon. He had been unfailing in his duties, always dependable, at her side through every difficult situation since she’d come into this office. Woon was her right hand, as he had been for her brother Lan. She could not lose him, not if she wished to remain Weather Man of No Peak. “I don’t accept this resignation, Woon-jen.”
Woon looked up sharply. Shae could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him appear angry. “I’ve served you as best I could,” he said, his voice not quite steady. “You’re being unfair, to keep me in a role I’m asking to leave.”
“I need you,” Shae said. “There’s no one else who could take your place as Shadow, who I’d trust as much. Under other circumstances, you would’ve been Lan’s Weather Man.”
“I failed Lan-jen,” Woon said, his face stricken. “I’m afraid I’m failing him again now. And that I’ll fail you.”
“The only way you’ll fail me is if you leave.” Shae stood in front of the man. “Please, Papi-jen. You know I could go to the Pillar and ask that he order you to stay. I don’t want to do that. I won’t do that. But I need you to keep helping me as you have.”
Woon’s shoulders sagged. “It’s too painful for me, Shae-jen,” he confessed. “You’re Lan-jen’s sister, and the Weather Man, so I would never cross either of those lines; but we spend so much time together, I can’t help how I feel.”
Shae could not believe this was happening. It was not that she didn’t feel any affection for Woon; on the contrary, she’d come to count him as a true friend. He was almost a decade older than her, but handsome in an unassuming way, and there was no questioning his work ethic and character. She had simply never considered a romantic relationship with a subordinate. And of course she was with Maro now, so it was out of the question. The fact remained, however, that she could not afford to lose Woon Papidonwa, even if she had to hurt him.