Hilo came into the room, dressed in a tuxedo. “You’re sure you want to go?” he asked. They had barely spoken in the busy past few weeks. She was often already asleep when he got home. At other times, he went to bed without touching her and was gone when she woke up. Now he looked at her steadily for what felt to Wen like the first time in months. His expression softened. “You don’t have to. It’s fine.”
Wen smiled weakly. “You know it’s . . . not fine.” It was often difficult for her to put her trapped thoughts into words or to make those words come out smoothly and correctly, but she was perfectly capable of listening to the news and hearing the talk in the clan. The treason and public execution of a Green Bone Lantern Man was uncommon and much discussed, and the recent attack on the Double Double casino had prompted concern of additional stunts by fringe anti-clan extremists during the holidays. Both incidents had made No Peak appear to be on the defensive, scrambling to protect its holdings. It was not a good image at a time when fears were running high that Kekon could become the next hotspot in the global conflict between Espenia and Ygutan. Meanwhile, the Mountain clan seemed flush with cash and its members were pleased that Ayt Mada had positioned her teenage nephew as her heir. Their enemies were spending lavishly on their own New Year’s celebrations.
She walked toward Hilo and he offered her his arm. She held on to it, steadying herself and feeling shorter than usual next to him without high heels, which were impossible for her now. “Don’t . . . let me f-fall,” she said. Tonight was about appearances. The Kaul family needed to put on its strongest and most unified face. As the wife of the Pillar, Wen was expected to be the hostess tonight. Her absence would only be seen as proof of her infirmity. Hilo said nothing, but walked patiently with her as they went down the stairs, positioning her stronger left side by the railing so she could step down with her weaker leg first, one step at a time.
“Today’s . . . our wedding anniversary. Remember?” she asked him, slowing down the enunciation of her words to avoid slurring them. They had been married on New Year’s Eve, the day before Hilo had gone to save the clan by facing a death of consequence.
“Sure,” he said, not unkindly, but the casual curtness of the singleword answer made Wen bite her lip. Her husband’s moments of outright cruelty were infrequent and brief—a cold look, a cutting remark, a flash of hurt or anger in response to any reminder of her past dishonesty and how she’d nearly been killed because of it. Each one felt corrosive on her soul, but far worse was the deliberate distance he’d placed between them. Having lived so long in the uncompromising sunlight of Hilo’s love, the absence of his affection was a lifeless and unending winter.
Wen had assumed this would happen eventually—he would find out how deeply and for how long she’d been getting involved in clan affairs behind his back and against his wishes, using her deficiency as a stone-eye to move jade, putting her own life at risk. Of course he would be angry, but she’d counted on being able to explain herself, to talk to Hilo in the way she’d always been able, to reassure and calm him so that he would come to understand, as she was certain he eventually would.
She had not gotten that chance. At the time she most needed to communicate, she’d been barely able to express herself, struggling to even string a few words together coherently. And Hilo—if only he’d been able to rage at her, to give free rein to his hurt and sense of betrayal, he might’ve burned away some of the force of his feeling. But the shock of her near death and her need for care meant he hadn’t been able to do that.
At the bottom of the stairs, Wen paused to take a deep breath and ready herself. Hilo put his hand on the small of her back and she rested briefly against the gentle pressure. They went together out into the courtyard to face the clan.
A wave of clasped hands rising to foreheads in salute and shouts of “Kaul-jen! Our blood for the Pillar!” greeted them as soon as they stepped outside. Wen swallowed and forced a welcoming smile toward the sea of faces—important people from every part of the clan seeing her by the Pillar’s side for the first time in more than a year and a half. She began to tighten her grip on Hilo’s arm, but restrained herself, not wanting to appear as if she were clinging to him for balance.
Hilo raised his voice and his free arm high in acknowledgment, calling out to the crowd, “Brothers and sisters, my order as Pillar tonight is that you’d better eat all this food and finish those casks of hoji!” Laughter, followed by someone, probably a Fist who’d already had too much to drink, yelling cheerfully, “I am ready to die for the clan!” Wen caught a glimpse of Shae, in a conservative but flattering black dress, rolling her eyes and taking a drink from her glass of wine.