Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(16)

A burst of icy wind breached the open door as he departed. Xiala shivered, at the sudden cold or at Uncle Kuy’s warning words, she wasn’t sure which. But she was chilled all the same.

“Old fool,” Omataya muttered, but Xiala heard the sadness in her voice. The older woman slammed the batten down. “And don’t come back,” she muttered.

Xiala shook her head. What was she doing arguing with this stranger? She had been too long already in Tova, she could feel it in her bones. The sea called to her, a yearning that did not quiet. She would find Serapio, and they would go. To where she didn’t know. Just away from here.

She followed Uncle Kuy out the door. She was halfway across the courtyard when she heard, “Xiala! Wait!”

Aishe was there, hurrying to catch her.

“I’m sorry about that,” Aishe said, her breath huffing white in the twilight. “Omataya was terrible.”

“But was she wrong?” Xiala asked, sounding bitter. “You Tovans are obsessed with bloodlines.”

“And the Teek aren’t?”

“No. The Teek are all bastards. No fathers, shared mothers, every one of us half something else. Kinship is what matters, not…” She waved her hand to take in the whole of the city. “Not this blood nonsense.”

“Now who’s being cruel?” Aishe sounded hurt.

Xiala’s sigh was heavy and heartfelt. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to insult you. It’s just…” She shuddered as a gust wormed through the edges of her cowl.

“Are you coming?” Uncle Kuy’s voice carried on the wind. He’d stopped to wait by the gate, but Xiala thought he wouldn’t wait long.

“One thing,” Aishe said hurriedly. “Here.” She dragged her blue fur-lined cloak from her shoulders. “Trade with me. A foreigner may draw eyes, and Uncle could be right that people have heard of you. Wear this, and keep the hood raised and your hair hidden.”

Xiala dropped her bag, removed her own cloak, the one she’s traded for in Tovasheh, and replaced it with Aishe’s deep blue. She ran a hand over the rich fabric, felt the luxurious touch of fur against her neck. “This is expensive.”

“It can be replaced.”

“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “Not just for the cloak but for everything. I’m sorry I brought my troubles to your door… and your bed. I should have never—”

“We.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t just you. It was we. I’m a grown woman, and if you recall, I seduced you.” Her smile was small and knowing. “You think I don’t see you, but I see you better than you see yourself. One day, you’ll stop trying to drown who you are—and whoever’s there to catch you? Well, they’ll be lucky to have you. But it won’t be me.”

“Am I that bad?”

Aishe’s smile stretched into a grin. “Like a tidal wave.”

Xiala laughed. She wasn’t sure if her words were meant as compliment or complaint, but either way, they felt like a truth. And despite her moment of self-pity before, she’d never been shy about laughing at herself. It was not the first time she had been called a disaster.

Aishe shivered, hands rubbing against her arms. “It feels bad here, doesn’t it, Xiala?” She was serious now, her face clouded with concern. “I mean, the sun, yes. But the people, too. I’m frightened.”

It was the same feeling Xiala had had earlier. The city was holding its breath, waiting for the next terrible thing to happen. Perhaps the sun would plummet from the sky, or the sky itself would crack and shatter. Perhaps a million crows would descend on them and pluck their eyes and tongues out as they had done to her crew. She didn’t know. All she did know was that something would break, and when it did, it was going to be bloody.

She grasped Aishe’s upper arm. “Stay safe.”

Aishe reached out to pull the hood up over Xiala’s head. Once it was in place, she straightened the edges. A moment’s hesitation, and then she leaned in and kissed Xiala on the mouth. Before Xiala could protest, she pulled away. She pressed a finger to Xiala’s lips.

“Go,” she said. “Go find him. Just be careful. They say the storm has come, but to me, it feels like it’s only beginning.”





CHAPTER 6


CITY OF TOVA (DISTRICT OF ODO)

YEAR 1 OF THE CROW

Understand your enemy not by the face that they show you but by the face they do not.

—On the Philosophy of War, taught at the Hokaia War College



Okoa had planned to delay their homecoming until the Odo Sedoh’s wound was stabilized, but it had been another full day, and the wound was not getting any better. It continued to seep a watery reddish-gold ichor, and although the man hid it well, Okoa could tell he was in pain. It was clear that the sooner they returned, the better.

They had debated how to return. Okoa had favored stealth, but the Odo Sedoh made a convincing argument for spectacle, reiterating his earlier advice that they utilize fear to their advantage. Okoa did not love the idea, but his masters at the war college had often spoken of the importance of theatrics and the benefits of an overwhelming display of power in the face of conflict. He could not deny the Odo Sedoh’s reasoning, so in the end, Okoa agreed. They would not hide their return but announce it.