Jade hissed out a breath. “I didn’t—”
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Malachite’s voice might have been made of iron. “Tell me he thought it meant more than trading himself for shelter and companionship.”
“I explained what it meant—”
“And did you think he understood?”
Silence stretched painfully. Then Jade said, “No.”
Moon wished he had bolted from the room when he had a chance. All he wanted to say was “Understand what?” Then he saw Balm’s expression. She was seated behind Jade, biting her lip, looking down at her hands tightly folded in her lap. Guilt was written over her whole body.
Jade tried to keep her voice hard, as if it was a struggle not to sound defensive. She said, “But I did believe that his court was destroyed. I had no reason to think otherwise.”
Malachite pressed harder. “You knew you were returning to the Reaches, where another court would recognize his bloodline. You knew there was a strong chance a court might claim him, and you needed alliances. So you took him.”
Jade showed her teeth. “I took him because I wanted him for my consort.”
“Then why haven’t you had a clutch?”
Moon heard Stone hiss an under-the-breath curse.
Jade’s spines trembled and her jaw set, the blood drained from her lips so the blue was almost white. She didn’t answer.
In a quiet voice, Celadon said, “We can’t afford to argue like this, not now. We have to deal with the Fell first.” She told Jade, “If you aren’t going to help us, then take your warriors and go back to your court.”
Jade stood. Balm looked up with a start, eyes wide. Jade said, “I’m not leaving without my consort. This is not over.” She left the chamber, her pace deliberate, as Balm got to her feet and followed.
For a long, painful moment no one moved, no one spoke. Moon started to stand and realized his muscles had tensed to the point that his legs had cramped. He managed to get to his feet without stumbling and walked out. No one tried to call him back.
He took the passage that led to the consort’s hall, stopped in a junction where one corridor opened out toward the central well. He took a deep breath of the fresh damp air flowing down it.
Feet pattered on the smooth wooden floor of the passage; Lithe hurried toward him. She stopped, her bracelets and the beads in her hair jangling with her agitation. “Moon, why did they ask me to leave?”
She was bound to hear it sooner or later. His voice was thick and he had to clear his throat. “The Fell know that there are crossbreeds here in the court. We think they can hear your thoughts.”
Lithe fell back a step, appalled. “No! That’s not possible. I’m a mentor, I’d know!”
“I don’t know. Someone will have to figure it out.”
Lithe studied him, her expression turning uncertain. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He turned and went on toward the consorts’ hall, and she didn’t try to follow.
For once, there were no Arbora hanging around in the main room, which was a relief. Moon went through and up to his bower. He sat on the fur next to the bowl hearth, close enough to feel the faint warmth of the stones.
After a while, Stone came in and sat down nearby. He didn’t speak, he just looked at Moon.
Moon felt obligated to say something. “I never fooled myself about why I was in Indigo Cloud. You took a chance on me, and it worked, mostly. But I didn’t need to hear it spelled out like that.”
Stone growled in his throat, got up, and walked out.
Moon watched him go, too startled to react. That wasn’t helpful, he thought.
He realized his throat was dry and drank the tea that someone had left sitting beside the hearth. It was cold and bitter and all he wanted to do was wash it out of his mouth. He went into the bathing room to get a drink from the cool water running down the channel in the wall. It felt so good, he stepped under it and stood there until his head cleared. Stepping out of the pool, he stripped off his wet clothes and changed into the spare ones in his pack. They seemed much cleaner than he remembered, so he suspected the Arbora had been in here, too.
Moon came out of the bathing room and heard soft footsteps on the stairs. He froze, his heart giving an anticipatory thump. But it was Russet who appeared in the doorway. She was alone for once, without her entourage of younger Arbora.
Moon wasn’t glad to see her. He had felt an instant connection with Feather, but Russet just seemed like a nosy stranger. He said, “Unless it’s about the Fell, I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”
But she asked, “Do you remember me? From before, from the old colony.”
“No. I didn’t remember anyone here.” Her expression didn’t give away anything, but he felt like he might be insulting her. He added, “When Feather was telling me what happened, I thought I remembered it, just for an instant, but it went away.”
Her lips pressed together. Then she went to the other side of the bowl hearth and crouched down to collect the used tea cups. Guilt made Moon ask, “Did you take care of me?”
Her brow furrowed as she studied a cup. “No. I was in the nurseries, but it was Feather and Yarrow and Twist who took care of the royal clutch.”
So many of the Arbora must have lost their own children. “Who did you lose?”
She looked away, and now her expression was angry and bitter. “Everyone.”
There was a faint rustle from outside the door as someone tried to make their presence known before they approached. A moment later an older male warrior stepped in. He radiated awkwardness and discomfort, so Moon assumed he hadn’t come to attack anybody. The warrior nodded to Russet, then faced Moon and said, “Umber asks that you come to the consorts’ hall. The other consorts’ hall. He wants to speak with you.”
Moon might have refused, but it would provide a quick exit from Russet’s uneasy company. He got to his feet and said, “Let’s go.”
The other consorts’ hall was larger, made up of several interconnected chambers with passages branching off to lead to the bowers. Small balconies, some draped with climbing vines, looked down from the upper part of the room. The carving went up the walls in waves, shapes that were meant to symbolize the wind, with Aeriat in flight flowing along the ceilings.
The warrior took Moon through the main living chambers, past the curious eyes of several young consorts, up a curving stair to a smaller sitting area halfway up the wall. It looked down on the room below, and had an opening into the central well, with a view of the waterfall. The space was floored with cushions and seating mats in rich materials. Umber waited there in his groundling form, wearing a dark robe woven with intricate patterns.
Moon sat across from him. Another young consort immediately brought tea and a plate of flatbread, sliced meat, and fruit.
Umber said, “I was told about what happened in the council. Even after all these turns, Malachite is still… enraged at the Fell attack.”
Moon took a drink of tea to give himself a chance to think of an answer that wouldn’t get him kicked out of the hall. He just said, “I noticed.”
Umber wasn’t fooled. “I don’t think you realize that she does prize you greatly. You were part of her last clutch, and Celadon is the only other survivor. She hasn’t taken another consort since returning from the east.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
Umber smiled. “She carried you in her body. She knows everything she needs to know.”
Moon didn’t have an answer for that one.
Umber regarded him thoughtfully. “Onyx wants me to ask if you would consider accepting a queen from our bloodline. Her name is Ivory. She has a warrior clutchmate named Saffron, who was sent to retrieve you from the groundlings. When you threw her off the ship, Ivory was greatly intrigued.”