Ketai was on his feet in a second. He pointed at the door. “Out.”
Lova pushed back from the table. “My pleasure,” she snarled. Her honey fur was ruffled, and she tossed her head, surveying the room with disdain. “I’ve had enough of this useless posturing anyway. Our cautiousness is what led to both our seconds-in-command being killed in an ambush we should’ve seen coming eight thousand miles off. And I, for one, am fluent in only one language of revenge.”
She drew free the cutlass from her back and swirled it so ferociously the council members sitting closest to her cringed back.
Lova leveled her weapon at Ketai. “Let me know when you’re ready to join me in speaking it.”
Then she spun on her heels and stormed out.
Nitta rolled her eyes at Wren and mouthed, Drama queen.
Lova had left the double doors ajar. While two servants hurried to slide the doors back into place, Ketai sighed. He wore a weariness in his expression Wren had rarely seen before.
She glanced again to the chair across from her and its emptiness speared straight through her. Wren was so accustomed to the presence of the man who occupied it. Not within this room—she’d only been allowed to join the council after the Moon Ball when all pretense of her not being a warrior had been dashed. But within the Jade Fort. By her father’s side.
By her side.
Second-in-command. It wasn’t adequate to express all Caen had been—and neither for Nor to Lova.
When they’d been lovers, Lova told Wren how Nor had practically raised her after her parents passed. That the old tiger-woman had saved her life on more than one occasion. And though decades her senior and far more experienced in leadership, Nor followed Lova’s command when she inherited the clan at just sixteen years old without question.
Since receiving the news of Nor’s death, Lova had kept her grieving for Nor private, even from Wren. Wren knew her father had been trying to do the same, but he wasn’t doing quite as convincing a job. She could read his loss in the slight slump of his shoulders. The way he turned every so often to the doors, as if expecting Caen to walk in, rumpled and battle-tired, but alive. Caen had been more than Ketai’s second-in-command. He’d been her father’s closest friend. His lover.
Caen’s loss was in Wren, too, that weighted pit right beside the one Lei had left. It was different, but no less significant. While Lei had always felt linked to Wren’s future and hopes, Caen was tied inextricably to her past. He’d been a constant in her life, the anchor of her small family in so many ways that she’d hardly believed it when her father returned from Nantanna without him.
It had been a terrible moment. Ketai’s forces had been ambushed on their way back from Nantanna, and though they fought so hard the King’s soldiers eventually retreated, the Hannos lost more than half their soldiers in the process. Ketai hadn’t seen Caen’s death himself, but one of his warriors told him they’d seen him dragged into a group of demons—and he hadn’t emerged. The King’s army had set fire to the forest they were fighting in, so Ketai and the others had been forced to flee. It was an extra blow, not being able to bring back the bodies of those they’d lost and give them the proper send-offs they deserved.
Standing now at the head of the table, Ketai seemed to collect himself. The spring twilight was drawing in, a purple-pink glow tinting his frame. “I might not like her phrasing,” he said, “but Lova is right. We have been too cautious. Naive, even. We cannot underestimate the King’s forces again.”
He released a heavy sigh. After a glance at the empty chair to his left, he drew to full height, facing each person at the table in turn with those darkly shining eyes Wren knew so well. It was a look that meant her father was angry. That he was determined. That he had a plan.
And he’d burn down anyone who stood in its way.
“Zahar, Ijuma.” He gestured at two of the councilors. “Assemble the plans of the operation to choke off the Golden Triangle, as discussed. You were right. It’s our strongest chance at blocking the court’s main transport routes and will allow us to hold off reinforcements from reaching the Hidden Palace. We’ll launch our siege on the palace from there.”
“Already?” Zahar gasped.
Ketai’s face was grim. “What are we waiting for? More allies? So is the King. Time to recuperate? As we have seen, they won’t let us have it. It is either our palace which’ll be under siege, or theirs. It will already take us at least two weeks to prepare. We must not delay any longer. We must strike soon, and hard.” He looked around the table. “Anyone else wish to express their doubts?”
No one spoke.
“Good. Then we are finally in agreement.” Ketai turned. “Chang, I’ll leave it to you to prepare our soldiers for the operation, along with each clan head. They know best how to organize their warriors.”
He went on, directing the remaining members until it was Wren and Jinn’s turn.
Jinn, like Nitta and Lova, had been asked to join the council as honorary members. Though most of the others weren’t keen on the cat demons’ presence, Jinn had been welcomed more warmly given who his daughter was. Everyone knew what Lei had done. Any Paper who stuck a knife in the King would be welcome at the Jade Fort.
Ketai had also invited Tien to the meetings, but after the first one she’d stormed out in a huff, much like Lova today. “This war council is worse than my old mahjong group!” she’d complained. “Alamak, what a bunch of whiny, argumentative old farts! Let me get back to my kitchens. At least I’m listened to there!”
Nitta and Lova had rejoiced so loudly at the lynx-woman’s dramatic departure that Ketai had ordered a five-minute recess to allow them to calm down.
Now, Ketai set his hands back on the tabletop, the line of his mouth tightening. His shadowed eyes flitted over Wren and Jinn. “It is time to decide what to do regarding Lei. I know what I think, but there is only one person in this room who the decision should fall to.”
Wren stiffened. Was her father really about to single her out? Had he suspected all along what Lei truly meant to her? A well of gratitude rose up in a rush, and she was about to speak out, a resounding Yes, of course we must save her, yes, when—
“Jinn?” Ketai prompted.
A cold pit hardened in Wren’s gut.
Lei’s father blinked, seemingly taken aback at being addressed. For the past two weeks, he alone had sat quietly at the table. Wren couldn’t tell if it was because he was intimidated or if he didn’t think he’d be listened to.
“As Lei’s father,” Ketai said, “you should have final say as to whether we rescue her.” Voices rose up in contestation, but Ketai held up a hand.