Chapter Fifteen #2
Ione breathed, tuned it all out, narrowed her awareness down to the weight of Kai’s hand, the prick of an ice needle into her finger, the slick press of Kai’s fingertip against hers. Iron and salt, sea and blood, she felt rather than heard herself say. Take what is mine, and give what is yours.
When it was time, she slipped a silver wedding ring onto Kai’s finger, considered the night over. There was her end of the bargain. But Kai fished into his breast pocket for her ring, held it up for her to see.
“Your seleneschals gave you your other ring and I didn’t want to ask you to discard it.” He waited, and when Ione nodded, he slid the thin band right up against her pearl ring. “One of Hilo’s men is a jeweller, so I ordered this from him.”
She peered at the delicate piece, a silver band crowned with three tiny diamonds and shaped to curve around the silhouette of her pearl ring as though they were a matching set. “River will be placated,” she said, smiling, equal parts touched and guilty.
Kai laughed, although something sad flashed across his features. “If this doesn’t shut him up,” he said, recovering, “I’ll shut him up with my fist.”
More words from the officiant. A light peck on the lips from Kai, more chaste than she was used to from him. A dull roar that might have been clapping.
It was done, then. Ione kissed him back, wishing she felt anything other than a dim but suffocating sense of safety, of gratitude, a butterfly wilting in a jar.
But tonight would be their last quiet moment: especially now that Caelos was finished and ready to house double its original capacity, things would change.
Ione envisioned herself travelling southward, a warden’s wife, a figurehead, meeting with Ahe Mahina’s most ruthless men and setting into motion all that which she had hoped to prevent.
It was fight or be killed. Trust Kai, his abilities, his own thirst for blood and glory, or watch her people die.
A string quartet resumed their playing, a stirring melody that encouraged Saros’s guests to couple up and dance, allowing the newlyweds the privacy to enjoy their conjugal bliss.
Kai squeezed her thigh. “D’you want to leave?”
“No, I’ll…” Ione leaned against him, more camaraderie than affection. “…sit a while. Watch.” She waved a hand. “My head’s still a little swimmy from the wine.”
Kai slung an arm around her shoulders. “I’m starting to come down, but I was thinking of remedying that.” He tensed, scooped her closer. “Ah, howya,” he called over Ione’s head, his tone falsely-light. “Nalu gave me a bottle of verdure. Where’s your gift?”
A scoff. Etan, Kai’s eldest brother. “Left it on the ship, silly me.”
Ione twisted to face him, hulking and dangerous, even when wrapped in fine midnight silk. A mean, cold energy enveloped him, but despite that, Kai was, she sensed, less afraid of Etan than he was Nalu. Etan was smarter than Nalu, he’d said before. Easier to read.
Etan did not, in fact, seem to be angling towards a fight. “Congratulations,” he said to Kai; and then, to Ione, a hint of humour, “And my condolences.”
“Careful, Etan, I’m the funny one,” Kai warned, relaxing. “Don’t tell me you’re sore because I married first.”
Etan yawned for effect. “Nothing would thrill me less than shacking up with someone. No offence to Lady Ione.” He nodded when Ione just shrugged.
“Right, that’s my congratulations done. Hilo’s sulking up in Caelos and I dunno where Nalu’s gone, so – ” He lowered into a shallow bow.
“ – blessings and salutations from them.”
“What d’you mean you don’t know where Nalu’s at?”
Etan jutted his chin. “He’s probably following Saros around like a puppy, picking up the hem of his robes so they don’t drag on the floor, the fucking kissarse.
” He withdrew a cigarette box and rolled himself one, which was relinquished to Kai with a grumble when Kai made grabby-hands at it.
“And does the lady want one?” Etan asked blandly.
“No, thank you,” Ione said, and Kai nodded like that was wise of her.
Etan exhaled a plume of smoke and crossed his arms. “Suits me fine if Nalu wants to serve the Archpriest all night,” he said.
“We’ve been playing passenger ship for the old bastard for weeks – no offence, Lady – and travelling all godsdamned over the place bringing this person and that to Caelos and bending to Saros’s every whim. ”
He flicked ash onto the floor, and when Kai looked like he was about to do the same, Ione cocked an eyebrow at him until he sheepishly used his empty wineglass.
“I’m wrecked,” Etan complained, “But suddenly Nalu’s eating it all up, the prick. Probably thinks he’s going to earn himself a sparkly new title out of it, but I’ll kill him myself if he forgets who he’s loyal to.”
“Good idea,” Kai said. “Do that.”
Etan ignored him and turned, smoke wisping. “Anyhow, enjoy your night,” he said as he went. “And I’ll enjoy Hilo and Nalu making themselves scarce so I don’t have to break up another fucking punch-up.”
Ione wrinkled her nose once he’d gone. “He’s charming.” She glanced at Kai, who did not respond; he stared after his brother, contemplative, his cigarette burning itself out. “What’s wrong?”
He stubbed out the cigarette. “I don’t like not knowing where Nalu’s at.
He’s like a spider: it’s fine if he stays in his little corner, but the second he moves – ” Kai mimed swatting at something with a rolled-up parchment.
Sighing, he sat back, arm around Ione again.
“Hilo had said something similar about him forgetting his chain of command. He needs Etan to rein him in; it doesn’t instil much confidence for Etan to sound so blasé about… ”
Kai trailed off, scanning the room, squinting up at the ceiling. His fingers drummed against Ione’s shoulder, nervous, itching for action.
“Leave it,” she commanded wearily. “If Nalu is causing any trouble, a guard will put a stop to it.”
He nodded, distracted, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. His energy shifted, sharpened, until Ione followed his gaze – nothing; the ceiling was painted like a blue summer sky, she knew, but a blur to her at this distance. She touched his leg, growing impatient, and he flinched.
“Sorry,” Kai said. His mouth twitched, an attempt at a smile. “I think I’ve had too much wine.” He stood, pausing to kiss her forehead. “I’m going to find us something to eat. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”
“Kai,” Ione called after him, “Do not get into a fight.”
“I know! I know.” He half-turned, flashing her a grin. “I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared before Ione could argue, leaving her annoyed but not enough to follow. She curled her legs beneath her on the loveseat and made herself comfortable people-watching, trying not to think about how it must have looked for her new husband to have literally just run from her.
If he returned with even a speck of blood on him, she’d kill him.
“You all right?” came Cynthia’s voice beside her, so sudden that Ione yelped. Cynthia snickered, but then her expression flattened again. “I was just with River, and then out of nowhere Kai was hauling River with him outside and barking at me to keep you company.”
“Barking,” Ione repeated sullenly. “Sounds about right for that family.” She scooted over so Cynthia could sit beside her. “He hates having Nalu anywhere near him, but can’t stand having him out of sight as well, it seems.”
Cynthia remained standing, craning her neck to peer over the sea of waltzing couples and gossiping priests.
A distant rumble of thunder resounded overhead, the start of the autumn rainy season; Cynthia sent the ceiling a cursory glance before returning her attention to the rest of the room. “Everything seems fine.”
“Of course it is,” Ione snapped. “He’s just gone off to get himself into a scrape, and he’s brought River along to pull him out of it.”
Some moments passed, and Cynthia crossed her arms and nodded. “Maybe,” she said. Her seleneschal’s edge softened and she sent Ione an aggravatingly sympathetic look. “How’re you feeling? As, er, a wife?”
Ione gazed out to the dancing crowds, glittering with jewellery and autumnal finery, all gathered in honour of a wedding she was barely present for. “Strange,” she mused. “Different, but not. Sobering up, unfortunately.”
“Here.” Cynthia offered up an arm, a pleasant enough surprise that Ione stood without thought and took it. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
The lower halls of the altarhouse were cooler, half-lit by infrequent lanterns and devoid of the usual gaggle of guards or acolytes bustling about. Ione breathed deep the autumn air, glad to have escaped the ceaseless drone of voices and music.
“It’s quiet,” Cynthia whispered, and when Ione didn’t respond she added, “Quieter than normal, I mean.”
“The halls are empty,” Ione whispered back, for some reason afraid of shattering the silence, like it would wake something she did not want to disturb.
Ione understood what Cynthia meant: the air itself felt still, unusually so, like the echo after a wingbeat. Or the calm before a storm. She shivered and Cynthia let her huddle a little closer, fighting the growing sense that she should not be walking through her own halls.
They hesitated before a window and peered out into the deepening twilight.
Ione unlocked and opened it, stuck her hand out.
No rain, despite the thunder earlier; even the island’s ever-present seagulls and peacocks had hushed themselves, a preternatural electricity in the air driving a chill deep into Ione’s marrow.
Footsteps, ahead of them down the hall; Ione closed her eyes and listened, sure to hear Kai’s casual steps, or River’s measured gait.
But they were not casual, nor measured; they were quick and nervous, careful and stop-start, someone used to looking over their shoulder wherever they went.
And she recognised them.
She pushed herself away from the window, her breath catching. “Who’s there?” she called into the darkness, even though she already knew.