“Maybe after all this is over,” Nitta suggested, “you should consider hanging up those giant swords that are going to cause some serious backache and starting up a theater group. A little bit of makyong, maybe? Or how about some good old-fashioned opera? Your singing never was that good, General, but Nor has some impressive pipes from what I remember, and Osa—”
“Is dead,” Lova finished bluntly.
The light atmosphere Nitta had been attempting to build vanished in an instant.
“I’m sorry.” She was quiet. “At the sands?”
Lova didn’t reply, but Wren imagined she’d nodded. After a long pause, Lova said, “He was great on the sitar.”
Wren turned in time to see a smile lift the corner of Nitta’s mouth. Then their eyes met, and Nitta’s expression sobered.
“Talk to him,” she urged.
Lei’s face came to Wren—and she knew in an instant what she had to do. It was what Lei would do. What she hoped one day, Lei would do for her.
“All right,” Wren said. As Nitta beamed, she added, “But I make no promises as to whether we’ll agree with what he says.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lova muttered. “I doubt whatever Feathers says is going to stop me from wanting to stamp on his stupid neck—”
Running footsteps thudded outside.
In an instant, both Wren and Lova backed to shield Nitta, Lova drawing her cutlass. The door slid open with so much force it almost shut itself again—though not before a blur of graying russet fur streaked into the room.
“Where is he!” the blur demanded, whirling around like a furry tornado, poking into every corner of the room. “Where—is—he!”
Lova lowered her cutlass with a sigh.
“Tien,” Wren said, straightening from her defensive stance. “If you’re talking about Merrin, he’s not here. And could you please quiet down? Our friend is trying to rest.”
“No, I’m not,” Nitta said brightly.
The whirr of fur finally came to a stop, revealing it to be an aging Steel lynx-woman. Though she was short for a demon, she held herself tall, her chin jutted proudly, the ruff of fur protruding from her collar bristling.
“It is the afternoon,” the demon snapped, “and we are at war. No one should be resting at this hour.” Her feline eyes narrowed at Wren. “And watch how you speak to your elders, young girl. I don’t care if you are a Clan Lord’s daughter. I am still your superior, and you shall address me as such.”
Nitta burst into gales of laughter. “I like her!” When Tien swung her glare her way, Nitta amended hastily, “I mean, I like your attitude, Auntie. No disrespect intended.”
Tien considered her. “Who are you?”
Before Nitta could answer, more dashing footsteps sounded. A Paper man appeared. He clutched at the doorframe, red-faced. “Eight… thousand… apologies,” he panted. “Tien, this is not our home! You can’t go bursting into any room you please!” He wiped the sweat from his brow, still doubled over. “Dear gods, that old demon moves fast.”
Tien prickled. “Watch who you’re calling old, old man! You could use the exercise anyway. And tell your daughter’s lover to show more respect to her elders!” She waved an irritable hand. “The things I have to put up with. These modern provinces. I tell you, back in Xienzo…”
As she babbled on, the man’s face snapped up. He gaped for a moment when he caught sight of Wren before hurriedly sinking to his knees. “Lady Wren, I apologize—”
Wren came forward. “Please, Jinn.” She bent to help him up, uncomfortable—both at Tien calling her Lei’s lover in front of Lei’s father and his embarrassment at his accidentally casual behavior in front of her. “We’ve discussed this. Wren is fine.”
Jinn nodded, though he still looked flustered.
Wren battled her own discomfort. While she couldn’t speak for Jinn, she knew she’d been purposefully evading him. Part of it was guilt. She still remembered so clearly the day she and the others returned from Jana. They were dirty and exhausted, their moods dark. Wren had seen the expectant hope on Lei’s father’s face as he scanned their group for his daughter’s face. How that hope quickly turned to confusion—then despair.
“Wren, then.” Jinn gave her a tentative smile, so familiar it hurt. And here was perhaps the primary reason Wren had been avoiding him: he reminded her too much of Lei. They even had the same mannerisms. Like now: with hands weathered from a lifetime of physical work—presumably what had prematurely thinned his dark hair—Jinn smoothed down his rumpled hanfu in the same way Wren had seen Lei do countless times.
His robes were simple tan-colored cotton. Ketai had offered Jinn use of the Hannos’ tailors and free pick of the luxurious fabrics in their stores, but Lei’s father had insisted upon only a few modest garments. Tien, however, had gladly taken Ketai up on this offer—and how.
Today she was dressed in sweeping gold and magenta robes whose many layers padded out her bony frame. A jade pendant hung at her throat. It was an outfit more suited to an elegant dinner than working in the kitchens, which is where she was to be found most of the time. But Tien wore it with complete confidence, and each day she paraded around in some wonderful new outfit, acting as if she owned the place. Wren even caught her scolding Lova a few times, complaining about mud she’d tracked in when coming back from a patrol or after stealing rhum from Ketai’s personal drinks cabinet.
Lei had told Wren countless stories about her fussy old shop hand. Clearly, she hadn’t been exaggerating.
“Well?” Tien demanded. “I’m still waiting! Where is he? Where is the bird demon who kidnapped my niece?”
Lova smirked. “He’s downstairs. I can take you to him, Auntie, just me and you—”
“No, thank you, Lo.” Wren shot her a pointed look, knowing full well Lova’s intentions. Presumably she didn’t expect Wren to punish one of Lei’s family if it was they who hurt Merrin. “Tien,” she began—then, at finding herself on the receiving end of a dangerous look, corrected swiftly with the respectful suffix for an older woman, “Tien-ayi, Nitta is the leopard-girl Merrin took from the battlefield along with… with Lei.”
Saying her name was like pulling teeth, especially with her father and Tien staring right at her.
“Nitta’s just told us what happened,” Wren said, “and that Merrin would like to help us save Lei.”
“She wouldn’t need saving if he hadn’t flown her away in the first place!” Tien retorted.
“Exactly my sentiments!” Lova grinned darkly. “Now, as I was saying, Auntie, why don’t you and I–“
“I am the General of this clan, Lova. Not you.”
Wren’s cutting tone surprised even her.
Lova crossed her arms, head tilting. “What do you propose, then, General?”
“We’ll hear Merrin out together,” Wren decided. “But first, Nitta needs to eat. Why don’t we have lunch, and we can share Nitta’s story with Tien-ayi and Jinn, so when we speak to Merrin we’re all a bit more… level-headed.”
Both Tien and Lova scoffed at this. To avoid any more argument, Wren went to pick Nitta up. The others busied themselves adjusting the table setting to accommodate Jinn and Tien.