Hilo went on the offense. Ten-year-old Koben Ato had recently fallen ill for a week from a potent stomach virus, a fact that was known only because the boy had begun his training at Wie Lon School as something of a minor celebrity. When questioned by the press about Shae’s past, Hilo answered that the outrage ought to be focused instead on the more serious past misdeeds of clan leaders who were known for killing their own relatives. Hilo hoped out loud that Ayt’s nephew’s illness was nothing more sinister; perhaps the Koben family ought to be worried about the child meeting as untimely a fate as his father.
His efforts deflected some of the attention, but had little effect otherwise. The idea that Ayt Mada would target a child was shocking but unfounded, and even though it reminded people of her past fratricide, in today’s political climate, it seemed murdering one’s way into power was more easily forgiven than sleeping with a foreigner. No Peak remained in an infuriating position and Hilo did not yet know what to do about it. It sat near the front of his mind all of Heroes Day morning as he walked through Widow’s Park with a large contingent of No Peak clan faithful, laying flowers and fruit on the Kaul family memorial and the graves of other Green Bones slain during the overthrow of Shotarian occupation during the Many Nations War. This part of his schedule was actually pleasant, as he had his family with him. Wen had dressed the boys in suits—even Ru wore a tiny vest and clip-on tie that he’d already spit up on—and people were exclaiming over how handsome they were, which pleased Hilo to no end. Niko ran between the gravestones, dirtying his shoes.
The afternoon, however, was an ordeal. Wen and the children went home, and Hilo was driven to the Monument District where His Heavenship Prince Ioan III would make a grand public appearance in front of the Triumphal Palace. In portraits, the prince was depicted as a regal and stately man, but in person his heavy brow and small chin gave him the appearance of perpetual squinting confusion. He performed his ceremonial and charitable duties with good-natured enthusiasm, though, and had produced two sons and two daughters, so was quite popular with the public. When he came out of the palace and waved to the crowd, they cheered loudly.
As was custom on Heroes Day, the leaders of the Green Bone clans were in attendance to demonstrate their fealty to the monarch of the country. They each in turn climbed the steps of the palace and knelt before the prince, declaring the service and loyalty of their clans. The traditional event was a ceremonial reminder of the nation’s modern founding, when the jade warriors who triumphed over foreign occupation had, in accordance with aisho, eschewed political power and ushered in the reestablishment of the monarchy and the Royal Council.
Hilo smirked when Ayt Mada strode up the marble steps and lowered herself like a tiger consenting to be patted by a child. The prince was a figurehead with no real power, but once a year, people took heart and patriotic pride in the knowledge that even the most powerful Green Bones, the ones who commanded true influence in society, were united and subservient to Kekon itself. That reassurance was particularly relevant now, with a foreign war raging not far away.
Hilo followed after his enemy and knelt on the palace’s landing, touching his forehead to the marble. “Your Heavenship,” he said. “I, Kaul Hiloshudon, the Pillar of my clan, pledge No Peak to your service. May you live three hundred years under the favor of the gods.”
Once that part of the pomp was over with, the prince’s retinue escorted His Heavenship down the street to the public gardens behind Wisdom Hall, where he blessed the unveiling of a new statue commemorating the famous wartime partnership of Ayt Yugontin and Kaul Seningtun—the Spear and the Torch of Kekon. Hilo was required to be in attendance at this event as well and to stare at the bronze cast of his grandfather as a much younger man, standing straight and proud next to his comrade and gazing off into the distance, presumably at Kekon’s glorious future.
Upon last year’s declaration of truce between the clans, someone in the Janloon city government had apparently thought it a good idea to commission public art to mark the reestablished harmony between Green Bones. Considering that the clans were currently engaged in a contest to undermine and ruin each other—a contest the Mountain appeared to be winning—the whole affair struck Hilo as ironic.
After the prince and a few other officials had said their words, Ayt took the microphone and spoke eloquently about the sort of man her adopted father had been—a brilliant general, an honorable Green Bone, and above all, a principled patriot. “My father believed that with jade comes great responsibility, and that Green Bones owe their loyalty to country above all else.” Ayt let her words hang in the air as her eyes moved over the assembly of people and settled on her rival Pillar, standing near the front and scheduled to speak next. Hilo felt the weight of his enemy’s stare and the pressure of her thick aura bathing him in an unwelcome spotlight.
Ayt said, looking directly at Hilo, “The allegiance to a higher cause, to the safety to the country, takes precedence over even the treasured bonds between friends and relatives. A strong leader must be capable of setting aside sentiment and making painful decisions for the good of many.” Ayt’s message was clear: Everything she had done to become Pillar of the Mountain—including murdering her ineffectual playboy of an adopted brother and her father’s old guard—she had done for the greater good of the clan and country. Kaul Hilo, in contrast, by stubbornly siding with his unworthy sister, was no great leader.
Ayt turned back to the crowd and declared, “My father, if he were alive, would despair to see that foreign interests have once again invaded our country, this time with the help of those who ought to be the staunchest defenders of our nation. As the daughter of the Spear of Kekon, as the Pillar of my clan, I am deeply concerned.”
Shae had prepared a speech for Hilo to give; it contained innocuous Heroes Day platitudes and some touching and amusing stories about Grandda. Hilo had come to this event determined to stick to the text and not respond to Ayt’s goading, but his aggravation mounted steadily as Ayt continued talking. “The Weather Man of the second-largest clan in the country is in thrall to foreign people and ways. Her past actions prove that she is of weak character, not fit to be called Kekonese, and not to be trusted in a position of power and influence. It’s time for my counterpart to listen to the concerns of the public.”
Ayt Mada was co-opting what was supposed to be a feel-good speech about her father into a pointed indictment of her rival. A few members of the Royal Council in attendance at the statue unveiling ceremony were shifting uncomfortably. Among the public who’d gathered to watch, some were nodding, others were listening stone-faced or staring at Hilo, waiting for his reaction. Hilo’s eyes were slits; he kept his expression stiff but knew his suppressed fury was Perceivable to any Green Bone nearby.
“Hilo-jen,” Kehn grumbled from behind Hilo’s shoulder in a low, uneasy voice, “we don’t have to stand here listening to all this shit. We could leave right now.”
Hilo did not answer his Horn; he could sense Ayt Mada’s aura humming in smug curiosity. Could she provoke him to explode in a temper in front of everyone? Would he finally bend to the pressure and remove Shae as Weather Man, making No Peak appear guilty and weak, or stubbornly refuse and watch his clan’s reputation plummet and his own hard-won fitness as Pillar come into question?
He did not Perceive Shae’s approach until she was right behind him. Her aura prickled like static against his, and when he turned in surprise, he saw that she was cutting a straight path toward him. Her hair was drawn back in a tight clasp, and in the sun, the jade gleamed at her throat. Her pale face was set as firm as a mask. She paused as she came alongside him but barely glanced in his direction.