Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(19)

Okoa sighed. “It is a story for another day. Today we need to focus on what lies ahead of us in the Great House, a fate we can delay no longer.”



* * *



He hurried them down the winding stairs and through the halls. Okoa saw nothing out of place. He heard no wailing, sensed nothing amiss. Perhaps he was jumping at shadows, seeing conspiracy where there was none. The house was usually quiet, but that could be attributed to the time of day. Still, the Great House was usually filled with servants, lesser families, visiting scions. Had they all fled the seat of Odo for their own homes, worried about what came after the slaughter? There was an eerie mood that gripped the city under the eclipsed sun; it could be the cause. Or it could be his imagination. He chided himself for his paranoia, but he was enough of a warrior to stay alert nonetheless.

They arrived at the entrance to the great room. Raised voices filtered out through closed wooden doors. Okoa raised his hand to push them open.

“Wait.” The Odo Sedoh touched his arm.

“Why would I—”

“I heard your name. They speak of you inside. Aren’t you curious to know what they are saying?”

Okoa snapped his mouth shut.

The Odo Sedoh rightly took that as an invitation to continue. “They know we have returned and urge each other to speak quickly. Someone insists that the clans must be appeased. That you, Okoa, are at fault, and so it should be you who bears the burden.”

“At fault for what?”

“An older voice speaks now. He sounds worried. He says that the clans will not be content with cacao.”

“That must be my cousin Chaiya, and the first speaker my sister. Surely Chaiya will speak sense to her.”

“Your sister says Carrion Crow will give the Sky Made blood if that is what is required.”

Okoa cursed. “Enough sneaking around like children. Let her speak these words to my face.”

He threw the great doors open, the boom thundering through the chamber. All eyes turned to him, the argument—because surely it was an argument—stopped mid-sentence as he strode into the room.

His quick eyes took in the six Shields stationed along the walls of the circular space and the four people standing at the center. Whereas the walls of the Great House had been left the natural ash-gray of the volcanic stone used in its building, this room at its heart was washed white. It made the place feel expansive, welcoming. Windows too narrow and high for even a child to pass through cast bands of light across ornately painted floors. A built-in bench curved around the entirety of the space, enough to fit most of his immediate family when they gathered here. Now the room was empty, except for the guards and the people clustered in the center.

Esa wore a long, fitted dress, the collar, hem, and wrists adorned with the sleek shimmer of corvid feathers. Her hair was pulled tightly back from her narrow face, emphasizing her large dark eyes. Chaiya stood beside her in the uniform of the Shield, his broad shoulders and muscular build a mirror of Okoa’s own, aged a decade. Over his shoulders fell a thick blanket of grays and reds. It was held in place by an obsidian clasp, but, to Okoa’s relief, he did not wear the single red feather that marked him as captain of the Shield. Okoa was only a handful of days gone, but he had half expected it.

Along with Esa and Chaiya were two of his aunts—women chosen as advisers because they were considered wise. Mataya was the one with the white beginning to thread her long hair, Juuna the one with the square jaw. All caught in acrimonious quarreling. About him.

Esa had frozen when he first entered, but she had already recovered her cool indifference by the time he stormed his way across the hall.

Two Shields detached from the wall to meet him. They locked spears and stood between brother and sister.

Okoa’s jaw clenched. “Move!”

“They will not move,” Esa said, annoyingly haughty, “until you calm your temper.”

“I am your captain,” he spat at the two men, “and you will stand down, or you will see the blade of my knife.”

“They’re only doing what I told them to do. Don’t threaten them with violence.” She turned to their aunt Juuna, voice mild. “Perhaps he has become a beast, as you said.”

“Esa,” his other aunt, Mataya, chided. “It is our Okoa. We do not malign family.” She pushed her way around the guards to hug her nephew.

Esa gave her a withering look and waved at the guards to stand down.

“How are you, Nephew?” Mataya asked. “We have been so worried. When you disappeared, we feared the worst.”

“I am good, Auntie.” He gently broke from her embrace. “But it seems I returned just before my sister bargained Carrion Crow blood for Watcher blood.”

“Your timing is remarkable, Brother.” She proffered a paper to him. “We were just discussing the Sky Made clans’ demands.”

He closed the distance between them and took the letter from her hand. He skimmed the handful of glyphs. A demand for explanation and restitution for the lives lost. A reminder of the old ways, which meant blood. Signed by all three of the other Sky Made clans. It all confirmed what the Odo Sedoh had overheard.

“And your plan was to turn me over to the other clans as answer? Sacrifice your own flesh and blood to placate our enemies?”

“I would have never allowed it,” Mataya protested.