“You were right, Kaul-jen,” Hami admitted. “Away from home, one gets used to being jadeless, and it’s a strange feeling to come back. In some ways, it’s easier to not be green. As soon as I wear my jade again, I’ll have to return to being a certain type of person.” He snorted and gestured with wry self-deprecation at the extra padding around his middle. “It’ll take me months to get back into shape and regain my jade abilities after such an absence.”
“You’re invaluable to the clan either way, Hamijen,” Shae said, using the suffix deliberately this time. “It’s good to have you back home.”
After Hami departed, Woon said, “Do you need anything else from me right now, Shaejen? Otherwise, I’ll start dealing with Fuyin’s assets like we talked about.”
“Don’t forget to phone your wife, first,” Shae reminded him as he stood, but the teasing comment failed to elicit even a small smile. She asked, “Papi-jen . . . is everything all right? You haven’t been quite yourself this week.” She hadn’t intended to bring it up, but the Weather Man’s Shadow had seemed unusually tired, and his normally clean-shaven jaw was darkened with faint stubble.
Woon grimaced and rubbed a hand self-consciously over the side of his face. A throb of unhappiness clouded his aura. “I’m sorry, Shaejen. I know I’ve been distracted. I’ll try to do better.”
“I didn’t mean it as a criticism.” If Woon’s performance had slipped, she hadn’t noticed at all, and she’d worked with him every day for more than six years. “I’m only asking as a friend. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Shae was suddenly worried that she’d spoken clumsily—sounded uncaring, or inappropriately caring, too defensive, or too apologetic.
Woon hesitated. Then he admitted quietly, “Kiya had another miscarriage.” He averted his eyes, as if ashamed to be sharing such a personal misfortune. “I think it’s been very hard on her. On both of us.”
Shae searched inadequately for what to say. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need some time off?”
The chief of staff shook his head. “We’ve been through this before, and I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make her feel better. At work, I can be useful to you and the clan. But Kiya’s been calling me at the office several times a day, sometimes angrily. She doesn’t understand that—” He cut himself off with a grimace.
Shae gripped the empty teacup in her hands, then put it down before she could unintentionally break it. Woon worked relentlessly on her behalf. She depended on him more than anyone, not only to advance her agenda across the entire business side of the clan, but to privately challenge and advise her at all times. But she knew it could not be easy for Woon’s wife to see so little of him and receive less attention than she deserved because her husband was constantly at the side of another woman, even if that woman was the Weather Man of the clan.
Shae wished she could say something sincere and encouraging, but it would be awkward to talk about Kiya. She suspected the woman disliked her. She reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm in what she hoped he would accept as a gesture of understanding.
Woon’s arm tensed under her hand. He lowered himself back down into the seat he’d vacated and sat forward with his elbows on his knees, studying the floor for a moment before reluctantly raising his eyes to hers. When he was concerned or deep in thought, a dimple appeared on the right side of Woon’s forehead, one that Shae was often tempted to reach over and flatten out with her thumb.
“Shaejen . . . This job . . . it’s not very good for family life. The Weather Man is always thinking of the clan, and the Shadow’s first priority is always the Weather Man.” His steadfast jade aura gave a soft, cheerless pulse. “This isn’t the way I wanted to bring it up, but it won’t get any easier if I put it off. I think it might be time for me to think about moving into another role.”
Shae managed to nod. “Of course, I can understand that.” The words felt stilted as they left her mouth. She couldn’t pretend to be happy about Woon asking to leave his post. “I’m sorry for not realizing that you needed a change. You asked for one years ago and ended up staying on far longer than I had any right to expect of you.”
Woon’s face colored. “That was . . . under different circumstances. And it’s not that I want to leave. I’m thinking of what’s best for my marriage. If I were thinking only of myself, this wouldn’t be an issue.”