Heat pricked Wren’s eyes. “He—it was—there was a purpose…”
“Of course there was a purpose, Wren,” Nitta said sorrowfully. “There always is. It’s whether you can support it or not. Whether you think it justifies the means. I might not condone Lova’s actions, but I can stand by her reasoning. Can you stand by your father’s?”
The horror of what Nitta was really asking filled the room.
Her father had sent her off to the King to be raped. That was the simple, brutal truth of it. Wren had been trying to run from it for years.
Nitta pressed her cheek to her arm. They were silent for a long while.
Eventually, Wren said, “You truly forgive Lo for all this? Even Bo?”
Nitta answered firmly. “Nothing will bring my brother back. The kingdom was burning long before Lova struck the match. We all know it.”
Nitta had told Wren last night that Wren would never look at Lova the same after learning the truth, and she was right. Wren knew it deep in her bones. But it wasn’t because she didn’t understand why Lova had done what she did. Nor because she’d kept it from her, and for so long. It was because Lova’s actions reminded Wren she had done abysmal things herself for a similar reason—and she didn’t know whether the girl she loved would ever truly forgive her for them.
As if sensing her thoughts, Nitta squeezed Wren’s shoulder. “Talk with her, Wren. Properly.” She gave her a fortifying smile. “It’ll be all right. And if it isn’t—come back and bed Kenzo. Seems to be what everyone is doing now when they need to feel better.”
Despite herself, Wren laughed. “I’d noticed. He’s not my type, I’m afraid.”
“No,” Nitta sighed. “Nor mine.”
Wren hesitated. “What is your type?”
“I don’t have one.” Nitta shrugged. “You know, I’m not sure all that’s for me. It’s fun to joke about, and it was always easy to pretend about that kind of stuff because I’d heard enough of Bo’s stories. But… the flirting part is what I like. I’m not sure about the rest of it.”
“And love?”
The leopard-girl’s expression was soft and warm. “That I have enough of to keep me going for a few good lifetimes.”
Wren pressed a kiss to her brow.
“Careful,” Nitta said. “Lei might find out. And I’ve seen what that girl can do with a knife.”
Wren laughed. After a pause, she said gruffly, “When I’m gone, keep an eye on Lo for me.”
She didn’t add that what Nitta had said was right: anger did flourish in solitude. But, as Wren had learned the hard way, so did many other destructive things—including perhaps the most destructive of all.
Guilt.
FORTY-FOUR
LEI
THE AUTUMN BREEZE RUFFLES MY CLOTHES where I’m lying on the grass, Kuih napping in the crook of my waist. Apart from the birds and the insects and the sounds of our neighbors going about their business, the afternoon is quiet.
It’s the one day of the week we shut the shop. Tien is out at a meeting. Baba has gone for a walk with Shala, Ai, and Blue. Without the twins, who left a few days after Shala gave birth to join their parents and brother at their new home in a nearby village, and Lill, who returned to the Free Palace, it’s just me and Aoki in the house. It’s the first peaceful moment I’ve had in a long time. I relish it, enjoying the freshness of the breeze and the fragrance of our herb plot, and Kuih’s gentle snoring. She’s grown so much already. Her little puppy belly is rounder than it probably should be, and I suspect my father is the culprit.
Like Bao, Kuih is a fan of dried mango.
I’m half dozing when a shadow falls over me.
“You got another letter.”
I sit up quickly, startling Kuih. She grumbles at me before going to sniff Aoki’s legs. Aoki smiles at her, bending to tickle her ears. She passes me the scroll without meeting my eyes.
I thank her and wait for her to go. It seems as if she’s about to, when she stops.
“I’m sorry,” she says suddenly.
Then—deepening my surprise—she sits down by my side. Kuih cuddles up to her, and Aoki strokes her absentmindedly, her mouth twisting in a way I know means she’s trying not to cry.
“Aoki,” I start, “you don’t have to apologize—”
“I do.” She takes a shaky breath. “Shala and I have been talking a lot. She’s… explained things to me. Things I knew already, I think, but needed to hear. Or at least, in the way she told them. Zhen and Zhin, and—and Ch-Chenna…” She wobbles on the name of our friend, the name that brings a fresh snap of pain each time I hear it. “And you. You’ve always tried to shield me from the reality of our lives at the palace.” She pauses. “Blue, not so much.”
I huff a laugh.
“But I couldn’t take it in back then,” Aoki says. “I don’t know why.”
Her fingers pause. Kuih licks them to encourage her to continue, but Aoki is still now, wet tracks shimmering on her round cheeks; Tien’s food has refilled them, and it suits her. She looks almost like her normal self again. And when she turns to me, I almost reel back, feeling seen by her, really seen, for what seems to be the first time in an eternity. Her lovely opal-green eyes fix mine, and I feel the weight of that eternity—a time when we were both kind and cruel to each other, patient and cutting—shift slightly, as though it’s made just enough space for a new one to begin.
We throw our arms around each other at the same time. Kuih yaps and shuffles about, and it makes me laugh harder, love and relief and affection welling up so strongly in me it makes me weep.
“I’ve missed you so much!” Aoki sobs.
“I’ve missed you more.” She starts to apologize again, and I shush her, thumbing her tears away. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you understand me? Nothing.”
“What he did to you all—”
“To us,” I correct.
She nods. “It wasn’t right. I should have seen that. I should have been there to comfort you. Instead, I blamed you, when really it was—it was all him.”
“It’s all right,” I say softly. “You were dealing with it your own way.”
She whispers, “I loved him, Lei.”
I hold her, my tears leaking into her hair. “I know.”
“I—I thought he loved me.”
“I think he did. As much as he knew how to love anyone, anyway. But he didn’t deserve it. Not your love. Not you.”
“What if—what if no one will ever love me again?”
“Oh, Aoki,” I breathe. “So many people love you already. As for that kind of love… you’ll find it again. I have no doubt.”
“How?”
“How do I know?” I clutch her tight. “Because I know you, Aoki. I’ve seen you in your hardest moments. And even then, you… you are astonishing.”
We cry and whisper and hold each other until we’re both spent. Then we lie back on the grass. The sky above is a clear, ocean blue. A bird darts through it, and there’s no jealous pang as I watch it, no reminder of how its freedom taunts my lack of.