“I am good, Auntie.” He gently broke from her embrace. “But it seems I returned just before my sister bargained Carrion Crow blood for Watcher blood.”
“Your timing is remarkable, Brother.” She proffered a paper to him. “We were just discussing the Sky Made clans’ demands.”
He closed the distance between them and took the letter from her hand. He skimmed the handful of glyphs. A demand for explanation and restitution for the lives lost. A reminder of the old ways, which meant blood. Signed by all three of the other Sky Made clans. It all confirmed what the Odo Sedoh had overheard.
“And your plan was to turn me over to the other clans as answer? Sacrifice your own flesh and blood to placate our enemies?”
“I would have never allowed it,” Mataya protested.
“Respectfully, Auntie.” Esa’s voice was tight with exasperation. “You are here because I asked for your advice. It is my decision as matron, and mine alone, in the end.”
“You are not a queen unchecked, Esa.” Mataya’s words were bold, but she took a step back from Okoa, a clear acknowledgment of Esa’s authority.
Esa did not respond, only lifted her head a bit higher. “As I was saying, the Sky Made clans are not our enemies. Or at least, they weren’t until you slaughtered the priesthood.”
“I…？” Okoa gaped, the anger draining from him like someone had opened a sieve. Only then did he register what Esa had said to his aunt Juuna, about him being a beast. “You think I’m responsible for Sun Rock?”
“You fled after the Convergence. What else were we to think?”
“Not that I am capable of slaughter!”
“You’ve been in Hokaia for years at the war college. Who really knows you anymore, or what they taught you there?”
“All Shield captains attend the war college.” He gestured to his cousin. “Chaiya attended the war college.”
“What we do know,” Esa continued, ignoring his logic in favor of her escalation, “is that you met with the Odohaa after Mother’s funeral, and we know they attacked the tower the morning of the Convergence—”
“What?” This was news.
“A failed few,” Chaiya explained. “They didn’t even make it across the bridge into Otsa. A handful of the younger members had gathered at dawn with plans to attack the celestial tower. But there were Watchers on the bridge, and they retreated as soon as they were spotted. No one was harmed, and their own leader confessed it the next day, afraid they would be blamed for Sun Rock. But we know they didn’t kill the priests.”
“Which leaves you, Okoa,” Esa accused. “The only one seen arriving, and leaving, on—”
“I killed the Watchers.” The Odo Sedoh’s voice came from behind him. “I am responsible for their slaughter.”
Silence fell. The lanterns in the room flickered. The light from the windows, which had been weak before, now seemed to retreat entirely, casting them all into shadow. Esa, always so quick with a biting word, stared, mouth open. The guards who had rushed to block Okoa shifted at their posts but did not come close. One fell to his knees, spear clattering loudly as it hit the floor. Muttered prayers flowed breathlessly from his lips.
Okoa felt the Odo Sedoh at his back, his approach like the roll of a dark tide. He suddenly remembered the warnings of the Odohaa, that the Odo Sedoh was a storm, a force of nature, and Okoa shivered, the hairs on his neck rising.
One moment human and joking, the next this darkness, Okoa thought. How am I supposed to understand this man, this god?
The Odo Sedoh’s warning that the gods were unknowable came back to him.
Cool fingers against his shoulder made him flinch, but he only wanted to pass. Okoa stepped aside.
He watched Esa take the man in. The bloodstained pants, the wild waves of hair and liquid eyes, the brutal haahan that covered his bare chest and arms, and the fact that he wore Okoa’s beloved feathered cloak.
She met his gaze, undaunted, but her voice trembled. “Who are you?”
He heard Mataya murmur a prayer, and Juuna suck in a wet sob.
“You know who this is, Sister.” The lanterns had steadied, and the shadows had withdrawn, but he could not suppress the chills that rattled through his core.
Juuna dropped into a low bow, and Mataya followed.
“The Odo Sedoh.” It was Chaiya who whispered the name, his face drained of color, as if he witnessed a ghost made flesh.
Close enough, Okoa thought. For he is something unnatural.