Downstairs, Mrs. Sugo wished him good night with a stiff smile. He could understand her annoyance. The Lilac Divine was a highclass establishment, with charm girls who could play music and recite poetry and accompany clients to black-tie galas. He was using it like a cheap brothel. The Duchesse was waiting for him at the front of the building. The valet had not bothered to park his car elsewhere, knowing from prior visits that he was unlikely to be long in the club. Hilo walked all around his prized vehicle and bent down to peer underneath it. Ever since Maik Kehn, his brother-in-law and former Horn, had been killed by a car bomb, Hilo was exceedingly careful with the family’s cars and drivers, watchful for threats that could not be Perceived with jade senses. “Has it been out of your sight at all, even for a second?” he demanded. The valet promised on his life that it had not. Satisfied that his car had not been tampered with, Hilo got in, turned the key, and headed for home.
_______
He walked into the house before dinner. His mother and Kyanla, the housekeeper, were talking in the kitchen, and he could smell frying vegetables. Niko, a precocious reader, looked up from his spot on the sofa only long enough to say, “Hi, Uncle,” before turning back to his comic book, but Ru and Jaya ran to greet him, both of them jabbering over each other to get his attention and tell him things. Hilo kissed his son on the head and let his daughter climb onto his back, carrying her up the stairs.
“Da, show me your new jade!” Ru said, skipping close behind his father.
Hilo turned at the top of the staircase and looked down at the boy. “What new jade are you talking about?”
“The new jade you won,” Ru demanded, standing up on his toes and grabbing Hilo around the waist. “Uncle Tar said you killed someone today, a man who was in the clan but who turned bad. Where’s your new jade?”
Hilo made a low, disapproving noise in his throat. His brother-in-law must’ve arrived home earlier and already filled the children’s ears with a simplified account of the day’s events. Tar was always honest with his nephews and niece about the realities of being a Green Bone and felt it was only right that they understand their father was not just their father, but also the leader of a large and powerful clan, which was why he was often busy and not at home. He had enemies who wanted to kill him, and sometimes he would have to kill them first, so that he could return home each evening to tuck them into bed.
It wasn’t that Hilo disagreed with Tar, but he didn’t want Ru’s head filled with Green Bone stories. They would only make him dwell on what he lacked, instead of confident in who he was. Ru was a stone-eye; he could never wear jade or hold any significant rank in No Peak. It saddened Hilo that his son could not become a jade warrior, but it was somewhat of a relief as well, to know that one of his children might have a simpler, safer life.
Hilo said sternly, “I don’t have any new jade. I wear enough and we should save the green we take for the future, since we’re already very fortunate. And stop listening to everything your uncle Tar tells you.” Hilo bent and set Jaya down, giving both of their heads an affectionate rub. “Go back downstairs and get ready for dinner.”
After the children ran off, Hilo stood back up and pushed open the bedroom door. Wen was resting, propped up in bed with pillows supporting her back against the headboard. She looked weary, as she always did after her physiotherapy appointments. Relearning how to do simple things, like walk smoothly, pass a cup from one hand into another, or stand without need for support, required a tremendous effort that left her physically and emotionally drained.
Hilo stood in the doorway for a few seconds, then walked over and sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on her outstretched leg. “How was it today?”
“Not terrible,” Wen said. “I can . . . t-touch my toes and . . . stand up again without falling down.” She smiled wanly. “Quite a v-victory.”
It broke Hilo’s heart every day to see Wen so feeble and incompetent, to hear her speak with such ponderous difficulty. He’d had to leave the room at times, unable to bear seeing her driven to helpless tears of frustration by her inability to do something as simple as complete a sentence that was perfectly formed in her mind but would not come out correctly. At least she was much improved from a year ago, when she couldn’t move one side of her body at all and could barely speak coherently. Back then, when he wasn’t even certain if her mind and personality had survived intact, he was ashamed to say there had been a few awful periods of despair when he’d wondered if it would’ve been less cruel to both of them if Anden had not succeeded in reviving her from death.