After all this time, I can finally spread my wings, too.
Aoki cants her head to smile at me. Though her eyes are puffy, the green of her irises looks fresher than before, as though her tears have washed them clean. That’s what tears are for, I suppose. Washing things clean. Helping us shed the burdens we carry.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“For what?”
“For being my friend.”
Aoki beams. And just then, she’s the girl I met last summer, wide-eyed and stunned at finding herself, a farmer’s daughter from the remote plains of Shomu, in the royal palace. Not yet hurt. Not yet a survivor. Not yet scarred by him. It gives me hope that, even in the darkest of times, optimism and kindness can prevail.
At the sound of footsteps in the house, Kuih dashes off; the others are back. I hear baby Ai’s little squeal. Blue’s melodic laughter, still such a sweet surprise after all these months. Baba and Shala’s voices. A distant door slam that is probably Tien returning from her meeting.
The sounds of home.
No—half a home.
Because Wren isn’t here. And as long as we’re apart, I know I’ll never feel whole. Even if, right now, holding Aoki’s hand and lying in my garden on an early autumn day, listening to the bustle of my family in the house, I feel more whole than I have in a long, long time.
The slam of the porch door interrupts the peace.
“Little nuisance!” Tien barks. “Get in here, now!”
I roll my eyes at Aoki and hand her the letter. “Hold on to this for me?” Then I brush down my clothes and walk over to Tien. “Is it Ai? I don’t hear him crying.”
My lynx-aunt clicks her tongue impatiently. “No, though gods know that tiny troublemaker will be complaining soon enough. I think he’s taking after you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say.
“You shouldn’t.” But there’s a cheeky glint in her eyes. She waves a hand at my disorderly state. “Make yourself presentable. You have a visitor, and this isn’t how we greet guests in our house.”
My heart leaps.
Sensing my hope, Tien says quickly, “It isn’t her. It’s the pretty hawk-girl who carries on with that weedy Paper boy.”
“Samira,” I say, having to steady myself against the kick of disappointment. “I’ll see what she wants.”
“I suppose she’ll stay for dinner,” Tien grumbles. “With the state of cooking at that place, they’re all bound to jump ship sooner or later.”
We have dinner on the veranda, blankets draped over our legs as the nighttime chill sets in. Though the food is delicious as always—pork rib soup and syrupy sago gula melaka for dessert—and we talk easily, regaling Samira with stories of shop-house life, I’m anxious to speak to her alone. I know she hasn’t flown halfway across Ikhara just for a dinner and a chat.
Shala and Aoki are the first to leave the table, to put baby Ai to bed. Shala brushes my shoulder before she goes, and I clasp her hand, grateful. In her arms, Ai cooes at me. He has his mother’s gentle features, her softly turned eyes. If there’s anyone else in his face, I don’t see it.
Baba goes next, clearing some of the bowls. Blue tries to make herself small, but Tien drags her to her feet, summoning her to tidy the rest of the table. Though Samira and I offer to help, Tien waves us away.
“It’s impolite to allow a guest to help,” she snaps, “and quite as impolite to leave her alone at a dining table. Show her to her room when you’re done. And don’t forget to bring in the last of the things.”
“Yes, Tien,” I sing.
Samira raises her feathered brow. “She’s even scarier than I remember,” she says when it’s just the two of us.
I laugh. “I think she’s getting worse with age.”
“The fort isn’t the same without her.” The hawk-girl’s expression softens. “Or you.”
“How is she?” I ask, strangely nervous all of a sudden.
The night is dark. Mosquitoes flit around the lantern hanging overhead. Cicadas sing in the grasses; in a few days it’ll be too cold and they’ll fall silent.
“She’s well,” Samira answers. “Busy. You saw what it was like. It’s not getting easier. The high of winning the war is wearing off, and without magic, it’s even harder for Wren to prove herself. Knowledge of her true identity is spreading, and while many clans have respect for her Xia heritage, there are also those who challenge her legitimacy to the Hanno throne.”
“Blood isn’t everything,” I say.
“It is to some.”
“Any news of your clan?” I ask carefully. After abandoning the Hannos, Lady Dunya and the White Wing loyalists returned to the Cloud Palace. No one has heard from them, though reports from clans in the region suggest they have yet to leave the immediate vicinity of their homestead.
Samira’s feathered face tightens. “Not yet. I think I’ll leave it a while longer.”
“But you plan to go?”
“Of course. They’re my clan. I miss them.”
I can tell the subject is making her uncomfortable, so I change tack, giving her a sly look to lighten the mood. “Anyone else you’re missing, hmm?” She breaks a smile. “How is Khuen? When we left, you two could barely separate long enough to say your good-byes.”
“Oh, trust me,” Samira says. “If it weren’t for this, I’d still be attached to him now.” We laugh, then she goes on, “But when Wren asked me to come get you, of course I agreed.”
“Come get me? To bring me back to the Jade Fort?” My pulse spikes. “Is something wrong? She didn’t say anything in her last message—”
“Not the Jade Fort. Don’t worry, Lei, nothing’s wrong. Actually, I think you’re going to like this place a lot.”
“You’ve been there?” I say. “Where we’re going to?”
Samira nods. “It’s a beautiful place. I’m happy to be going back there. I’d love to bring K, but I’m still not so good with passengers. One is my limit.”
“Neither of us are big,” I point out, then immediately groan as Samira’s tone turns gloating, her smile sharpening into a knowing smirk.
“Speak for yourself.”
Later that evening, I’ve just settled on my sleeping mat, rolling open the letter from Wren, when footsteps approach my door.
I start tiredly to my feet. “My arms and I are coming, Tien,” I sigh. But when the door slides open, it’s Aoki and Blue who appear.
Aoki is carrying a tray of pineapple tarts Tien baked this morning. Blue only carries her usual scowl, though, like everything about her recently, it is tempered. Her edges haven’t disappeared completely, but they have smoothed out, like pebbles on a shore kissed into softness by the insistence of waves.
“Fancy a snack?” Aoki asks.
I grin. “Has the answer ever been no?”
They settle beside me, Blue leaning against the wall as Aoki and I immediately dig into the delicious sweets.
“You two are disgusting,” Blue says. Then she gestures at the letter. “So? How are things back at the fort? That ridiculous cat demon still prowling around as if she owns the place?”