She could see Hami weighing her offer. As Master Luckbringer, the man was at the height of his career; there were few avenues for further advancement. No doubt he’d expected to stay in his role on Ship Street for another decade or more. But he was still relatively young, only forty-one years old—the idea of being paid to live abroad and start a whole new division of the clan’s operations was appealing. “My wife and I have talked about the idea of spending time overseas,” he admitted.
“There’s something else for you to consider,” Shae said, knowing it might dissuade him but must be addressed. “Civilian possession of jade is now illegal in Espenia. You would have to give up your green. You could store it safely here in Janloon, or we would find a way to make sure it’s covertly transported to you in Port Massy, but you can’t wear it while you’re in that country. If you were only going to be there for a short while, we could obtain a visitor’s waiver, but you’ll be living there. Wearing jade would expose you and the clan’s businesses to too much legal risk.”
Hami winced. He’d left the military side of the clan a long time ago, and Shae doubted he’d been called upon to employ his jade abilities in a martial capacity for years, but the idea of losing one’s jade was appalling to most Green Bones. Even though this would be a temporary measure of his own choosing instead of a permanent loss brought about by an enemy, Shae could see him questioning whether he could stand to live in a place where he couldn’t wear jade, no matter how good the pay, the professional challenge, and the family enrichment.
Hami looked to her. “You’ve taken off your jade before. How bad was it?”
Shae considered the question before answering honestly. Her own recent symptoms had abated considerably, but the memory was fresh. “Withdrawal isn’t pleasant, but it’s not as bad as most people think,” she said. “You’d go through it here at home, under medical supervision, so it would probably be over in a couple of weeks. Being without jade is different when you’re in Espenia. I’d never ask for such a thing from any Green Bone in Kekon, but over there, when you don’t see green anymore, after a while you stop missing it altogether.”
“Like being deaf in a country of deaf people.” The Master Luckbringer mulled the idea for a minute. “I can’t make such an important decision right away. I need to talk to my family.”
She nodded. “Give me your answer by next Fifthday.”
Shae left the office an hour after lunch and took a thirty-minute subway ride to meet Maro on the campus of Jan Royal University. She brought a book to read along the way but couldn’t focus on any of the words. She’d been longing terribly to see Maro again, but she dreaded the conversation to come. When she’d finally mustered the courage to call him, part of her had hoped that Maro would hang up the second he heard her voice and make it easy on her. No such luck; there’d been several heartbeats of silence from the other end of the line, and then he’d said, in a voice with no emotion she could read, “I can meet you after my last class finishes today.”
“I’ll come to where you are,” Shae offered, as if, ridiculously, this small consideration on her part could compensate for the weeks she’d been out of contact.
At the height of summer, the city subway was humid and odorous, but the campus was pleasantly green and generously shaded. Shae spotted Maro sitting at an outdoor table behind the Foreign Studies Department building’s cafeteria. His back was to her. He had a book open on the table but wasn’t reading it; the pages lay undisturbed in the hot, still air. Shae felt a powerful desire to walk up and put her arms around Maro’s shoulders, to pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was the same as before. And yet in the same moment, the idea struck her as impossible, awkward, inappropriate, like draping her arms over a stranger. The ease she felt around him—the escape and acceptance he represented, that she realized she’d made of him—that feeling was gone. She could sense it even from this distance.
She walked around the table and sat down in the chair across from him. Maro took her in: dressed in her usual business attire, ugly new scars hidden, her throat bare and pale where her distinctive jade choker used to be. A strange expression crossed his face—a mixture of hurt confusion, affection, anger, and relief that seemed to twitch his features in several indecisive directions before he forced it into a cautiously neutral smile. The smile of someone trying to be civil to another driver who’s smashed into their car. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said slowly. “And I’m glad you came to see me.”
“I’m sorry,” Shae said. It seemed to be the only way to start.
“Why?” The single word came out strained, but there were so many things that it could be referring to that Shae was not sure how to answer. Maro lowered his voice. “Why wouldn’t you return any of my calls? Before, or after, you did it?” For a second, Shae was struck by uncertainty—did he mean the abortion, or the duel? But he didn’t know about the former, so it was the duel. “Why did you make me find out about it from the news? Why wouldn’t you even talk to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Shae repeated. “A lot of things happened quickly. I knew that if I talked to you, I’d lose my nerve and not be able to do what I had to.”
“What you had to?” Maro asked, skepticism strangling each of his words. “You had to volunteer for a dramatic public death?”
“I was being discredited and forced out, Maro. The Mountain was using me to undermine and weaken No Peak.” She’d promised herself she would not give in to defensiveness, but she heard it creeping into her voice anyway. “I had to put a stop to it. On the phone, you reminded me that I deserved my position. You told me not to give in.”
Maro shook his head. “A duel wasn’t what I had in mind! You could’ve been killed.”
Shae said, “Yes, but I wasn’t. I’m still here. Still the Weather Man.”
“But if you had been killed—and you almost were—you wouldn’t even have spoken to me beforehand. That’s…” Disbelief and anger contorted his expression. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work between people who care about each other. How could you not even talk to me about it?”
“What would you have said?” Shae asked. “Would you have supported my decision? Or would you have told me not to risk my life? To avoid the duel by not showing up?”
She regretted her words almost at once. Maro’s eyes widened, and then his face crumpled softly. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose that’s exactly what I would’ve said. I would’ve told you that you’re above that kind of thing, above using violence to prove yourself. No matter the public pressures, I would’ve reminded you of what you once said to me: that it’s brave to be true to who you are.”
Shae said quietly, “This is who I am.”
Maro reached a hand partway across the table but did not touch her. “It’s not who you are when you’re with me.” When she didn’t meet his eyes, he nodded sadly. “But I don’t really know you, do I? All the time we’ve spent together, I was seeing what I wanted to and what you wanted to show me. Your other side, the greener side—I don’t know that person at all.”
Shae’s face felt hot, as if Maro had slapped her. “I never meant to lie to you or shut you out. I tried to warn you that there’re things about the clan and about me that you wouldn’t agree with.”
“Whether I agree with them or not, you shouldn’t have kept me in the dark like that!” Maro’s voice rose and he forced it down again, with effort. “You’re right—maybe there are things in your life and your family that I’m never going to be able to accept. I’ve thought about them, before—how couldn’t I? I wondered if I would have to join the clan to be able to marry you, how we’d ever raise a family with the demands on you as Weather Man, whether my Shotarian family would ever be able to meet yours… there were so many things that I knew we would have to talk about, but I always assumed we would talk about them. We’d be truthful with each other about the challenges, and we’d get through them together.” He searched her face with pained eyes. “That’s the only way I want a relationship with you—if we’re completely honest with each other. I know you can’t tell me everything that you do as Weather Man. I can live with that, but things that affect your safety, our lives… I deserve that much, at least. Can you promise not to keep important things from me?”