keep your head down, to cooperate, and to draw the least possible attention to yourself. You have a reprieve for now. Sister Petra has agreed to postpone your meetings until, one way or another, this war has concluded. So behave yourself. Do not give them further reason for irritation. Otherwise we are all lost.”
Then Rin understood.
Vaisra wasn’t angry at her. This wasn’t about her at all. No, Vaisra was frustrated. He’d been frustrated for months, playing an impossible game with the Hesperians where they kept changing the rules.
She dared to ask. “They’re never bringing their ships, are they?”
He sighed. “We don’t know.”
“They still won’t give you a straight answer? All this because they’re still deciding?”
“Tarcquet claims they haven’t finished their evaluation,” Vaisra said. “I admit I do not understand their standards. When I ask, they utter idiotic vagaries. They want signs of rational sentience. Proof of the ability to self-govern.”
“But that’s ridiculous. If they’d just tell us what they wanted—”
“Ah, but then that would be cheating.” Vaisra’s lip curled. “They need proof that we’ve independently attained civilized society.”
“But that’s a paradox. We can’t achieve that unless they help.”
He looked exhausted. “I know.”
“Then that’s fucked.” She threw her hands up in the air. “This is all just a spectacle to them. They’re never going to come.”
“Maybe.” Vaisra looked decades older then, lined and weary. Rin imagined how Petra might sketch him in her book. Nikara man, middle-aged. Strong build. Reasonable intelligence. Inferior. “But we are the weaker party. We have no choice but to play their game. That’s how power works.”
She found Nezha waiting for her outside the palace gates.
“Hi,” she said tentatively. She looked him up and down, trying to get a read on his expression, but he was just as inscrutable as his father.
“Hello,” he said back.
She tried a smile. He didn’t return it. For a minute they just stood there staring at each other. Rin was torn between running into his arms again and simply running away. She still didn’t know where she stood with him. The last time they’d spoken—really spoken—she’d been sure that he would hate her forever.
“Can we talk?” he asked finally.
“We are talking.”
He shook his head. “Alone. In private. Not here.”
“Fine,” she said, and followed him along the canal to the edge of a pier, where the waves were loud enough to drown their voices out from any curious eavesdroppers.
“I owe you an explanation,” he said at last.
She leaned against the railing. “Go on.”
“I’m not a shaman.”
She threw her hands up. “Oh, don’t fuck with me—”
“I’m not,” he insisted. “I know I can do things. I mean, I know I’m linked to a god, and I can—sort of—call it, sometimes . . .”
“That’s what shamanism is.”
“You’re not listening to me. Whatever I am, it’s not what you are. My mind’s not my own—my body belongs to some—some thing . . .”
“That’s just it, Nezha. That’s how it is for all of us. And I know it hurts, and I know it’s hard, but—”
“You’re still not listening,” he snapped. “It’s no sacrifice for you. You and your god want the same damn thing. But I didn’t ask for this—”
She raised her eyebrows. “Well, it doesn’t just happen by accident. You had to want it first. You had to ask the god.”
“But I didn’t. I never asked, and I’ve never wanted it.” The way Nezha said it made her fall quiet. He sounded like he was about to cry.
He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was so quiet she had to step closer to hear him. “Back at Boyang, you called me a coward.”
“Look, all I meant was that—”
“I’m going to tell you a story,” he interrupted. He was trembling. Why was he trembling? “I want you to just listen. And I want you to believe me. Please.”
She crossed her arms. “Fine.”
Nezha blinked hard and stared out over the water. “I told you once that I had another brother. His name was Mingzha.”
When he didn’t continue, Rin asked, “What was he like?”
“Hilarious,” Nezha said. “Chubby, loud, and incredible. He was everyone’s favorite. He was so full of energy, he glowed. My mother had miscarried twice before she gave birth to him, but Mingzha was perfect. He was never sick. My mother adored him. She was hugging him constantly. She dressed him up in so many golden bracelets and anklets that he jangled when he walked.” He shuddered. “She should have known better. Dragons like gold.”