Jade War

Maro tilted his chin down, eyebrows raised in a skeptical expression that Shae imagined he used on students who provided a poor explanation for turning in their term papers late. “Your grandfather—let the gods recognize him—helped the country to open up and become prosperous after the Many Nations War. The Green Bone clans might be the most traditional Kekonese cultural institutions, but progress has come out of them before.” He took both of Shae’s hands in his own and gazed at her with an utmost seriousness that made it hard for her to meet his eyes without her face growing hot. “You were the youngest in your class at the Academy, but you beat out everyone else in the rankings, even your own older brother. I’ve heard people say that you lead the clan as much as he does now. You were born and trained for your role. Who could possibly make a difference, if not you?” When he had strong opinions about a subject, Maro was an undeniably convincing rhetorician, and despite her recent bouts of self-doubt, Shae could not help but smile and wish to believe everything he said.

As the waiter cleared their finished dishes, the Lantern Man chef and owner of the Golyaani Kitchen came out of the kitchen and over to their table to pay her respects. She was a short, round-faced Tuni woman who must’ve been born or raised in Janloon because she spoke Kekonese flawlessly. “Kaul-jen,” she said, touching clasped hands to her forehead and saluting deeply, “it’s an honor for my humble establishment to serve you. Was the food to your taste tonight?” Shae assured her that it had been a superb meal. Maro took out his wallet to pay the bill and was promptly admonished, “No, no, there’s no charge; you’re a guest of the Weather Man and we’re a loyal No Peak business.”

Shae rose to leave, but Maro remained seated. “I insist on paying,” he said, looking not at the owner but at Shae. “I’m not part of the clan so the restaurant doesn’t owe me anything, and even though I know you could eat at any number of places without charge any night of the week, I would like to buy you dinner. It’s a small thing, but please let me pay for the meal.”

The restaurateur looked questioningly at Shae, who hesitated. If she accepted the gallant, if awkward gesture, she would’ve visited the Golyaani Kitchen not as the Weather Man of No Peak patronizing a clan business with a guest, but as Maro’s companion. Already, she could imagine the rumors and questions that would begin to travel through the more gossipy circles of the clan.

There was something so artlessly charming about Maro’s request, however, a genuine earnest desire to go through the motions of courting her, that she couldn’t say no. She nodded to the Lantern Man owner of the Golyaani Kitchen and smiled at her date, sitting back down to let him settle the bill. “Thank you, Maro.”

Outside, the concrete was damp with the typical drizzly Northern Sweat of monsoon season, but the moisture had cleared away the smog and Janloon smelled uncommonly fresh. They walked arm in arm down the sidewalk, talking, Shae nostalgically pointing out small things about her old neighborhood: the bookstore with the parrot in the window, the food stall that sold paper cones of sweet roasted nuts, the new neon theater signs that had appeared since she’d moved away. They stopped outside the window of a record shop, and Shae was impressed to see a selection of vinyl soundtracks from Espenian film musicals, several of which she’d watched during her time as a student in Windton. She’d developed a fondness for them; they were always full of costumes and laughable melodrama.

Maro put an arm around her waist. She liked the feel of it, the soft pressure against her hips. “Have I mentioned that you’re not what I expected?” he said.

“What do you mean?” Shae leaned into his side. Letting Maro pay for dinner had stripped her guard; she felt warm from drink and food and company. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed such a leisurely evening and been so pleasantly distracted from clan war and business.

“When people hear the name Kaul, they think war hero

, or jade prodigy, or heir to the great Green Bone clan dynasty,” Maro said. “Not shameless fan of silly romantic musicals

.”

“There’s nothing wrong with silly romantic musicals,” Shae protested.

“Of course not,” Maro said with mock seriousness. “I’m not going to argue such an important issue with you. Not when you could kill me with your little finger.”

“Now why would I do that and ruin a perfectly nice evening?” she teased.