Girls of Storm and Shadow (Girls of Paper and Fire, #2)(8)
There’s noise and activity as everyone settles around the fire. Hiro sits cross-legged next to Shifu Caen, the two of them seemingly comfortable with each other’s presence. Wren told me Hiro was rescued a few years ago by Ketai Hanno from a raid on his clan, and has worked for the Hannos since. Other than that, I still don’t know much about the young shaman boy. Most of the time he keeps to himself, his gray eyes almost always trained on the floor, and throughout the sessions he worked on my injuries the only words he said were the ones required to weave magic. I’m more acquainted with the shining top of his bald head than his face.
Settling beside them, I shuck off my coat and bundle my wet hair up in a tie I made from a scrap of the gold slip I was wearing the night we escaped the palace. Wren brings me a blanket. She smiles, draping it over my shoulders—then suddenly stiffens. When she sits down next to me, she leaves a markedly wider space between us than usual. She shoots her father a quick look, but he’s already deep in conversation with Nitta.
Across the fire, Bo rolls up the hem of his trousers and leans back on his elbows, lifting a bare pawed foot up to the flames. “Ahh,” he sighs. “That feels good.”
Merrin’s feathers ruffle irritably. “Yes, though it doesn’t smell so good.”
The owl-form demon is almost twice Bo’s size. Though we’ve shared close quarters since he helped Wren and me escape the palace the eve of the New Year, I haven’t gotten used to his appearance quite yet. Out of all demons, bird-forms are the strangest, with their long, humanoid arms wrapped in feathers, taloned fingers and feet, and sharp, beaked jaws. Though not quite as intimidating as the eagle-form of my palace guardian Madam Himura, Merrin is the biggest bird demon I’ve ever seen, tall and roped in lean muscle. A pale blue hanfu that he keeps meticulously wrinkle-free offsets the gray-white of his feathers, the exact color of a cloudy winter sky.
Bo wiggles his furred toes. “You know you love it, Feathers. Tell you what would feel even better—why not give my paws a little massage, eh? I was out in the snow for hours catching you dinner. It’s the least you could do.”
“I think you’ll find this is the least I can do, darling,” Merrin retorts, and with a huff, turns away to pour the tea.
Masking a snort, I hold my fingers out to the flames, glad for the first bit of heat after hours fighting the blizzard. More warmth shimmers down my veins at the thought of what Ketai told me earlier: Baba and Tien are safe.
As if reading my mind, Wren leans in. “Did my father tell you…?”
I nod, unable to hold down a grin. “Tien’s apparently already got the whole kitchen whipped. They’ll be sorry they ever rescued her.”
“No, they won’t. Everyone is so grateful to you, Lei. They’ll be treating anyone associated with the Moonchosen like royalty.”
There’s a beat. My lips twist. “So, stabbed to death by their concubine?”
Her face falls. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I puff out a breath. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure neither Tien nor Baba have concubines. That’s probably something I’d have noticed growing up, right?”
Wren gives me a small smile. But her eyes are still worried, and I avoid her questioning gaze as Merrin passes around steaming mugs of honeyed tea.
With a clap of his hands, Ketai gets to his feet and the group’s chatter immediately drops. The Clan Lord cuts a commanding figure with his elegant clothes and straight-backed posture. “Let me start by saying what a delight it is to finally all be together like this. After all these months of planning”—he glances at Wren and Caen—“years, even, for some of us, it gives me great pleasure to finally speak to you as a group. It truly is an honor to be in the presence of each one of you.” He runs a hand through his flop of raven hair. His voice carries loud and clear through the cavernous room, seeming even to still the snowstorm outside, where it rages beyond the temple eaves, blustering ice-flecked gusts of wind to our backs.
“No doubt you have many questions—” Ketai continues.
“Oh, just a few,” Nitta murmurs.
“And you can bring them to me afterward. For now, here are the essentials.” He pauses, and his glittering eyes land on me. “The King is dead.”
Bo leaps up with a gasp. “Wait, what?!”
Nitta and Merrin snort. Despite myself, the corners of my mouth tuck up. Ketai shoots Bo a withering look that makes him sink back down.
“The royal court is in turmoil,” Ketai goes on. “According to our spies in the Hidden Palace, they have yet to decide what to do. With no heir to claim the throne, they have been left without a ruler. Such a situation is unprecedented. Some advisers are supporting the idea of taking a young bull demon from some remote Moon family to pass as the King’s offspring…”
Nitta lets out a shocked hiss at this. I sense Wren stiffen.
Ketai opens his hands. “Thankfully, however, most of the court are in opposition to this. A rift has formed between those who believe they should announce the King’s death—again, an unprecedented event, given the original Bull King’s decree that the births and deaths of all subsequent Demon Kings remain hidden—and those who believe the situation should be resolved in secrecy, privy only to those within the court. The latter faction is claiming that to reveal the King’s death at such a time of weakness, what with the Sickness still worsening and the increase in rebel activity, would be tantamount to inviting war to the palace. As we ourselves know only too well, there are many clans in Ikhara who would be willing to seize such an opportunity to make a claim for the throne.”