Chapter Twenty-One

The past four days had been miserable. Taking over his brother's duties didn't make things any easier.

Yumao bent over the parchment, pen streaking across the paper as he spun words he'd already produced a dozen different times for a dozen different noblemen. The muscles in his hands were cramping worse than they had during his calligraphy lessons in elementary school. He sighed, writing down the final sentiments, then set the letter aside for his attendant to fold up and send to some rich family in the Earth Kingdom. "Why does my brother have this many contacts? Nobody needs this many friends!"

His servant said nothing, rolling up the paper and applying the wax seal. King Haran had ordered them to contact every major Earth Kingdom family, but Yumao wasn't sure if it was tradition or cruelty that had urged him to it through the postage system. Always the path of most resistance with him, Yumao thought, starting on another letter, this one addressed to the Foehn family. Candles instead of light bulbs, postage instead of phone calls. Next thing I know, he's going to tell me to walk to Republic City to retrieve my bride.

He sighed, setting aside his pen and turning to his servant. "I'm going to the bathroom. Take a ten minute break, then come back with some tea. We're in for another long night."

The boy nodded and rushed over to the door, grabbing the now-empty tea cups Yumao had requested two hours ago. The Earth Prince stood, joints cracking much too loudly for his age, then headed to his personal bathroom. When he'd turned eighteen, his father had brought a whole team of designers in to create a living space to his exact specifications. They'd balked at the thought of placing a bathroom next to his study, instead of adjacent to his bedroom, but these days, the convenience eased his torment. He spent more time in his study than he did in any other room in the palace.

Once the most important business had been attended to, he scrubbed his hands in the bathroom sink and took a look at himself in the mirror. Shadows ringed his eyes, and his pallid skin seemed too tight over his cheekbones. When was the last time I ate? he wondered, just registering the pain in his stomach. Too long. I should head to the kitchen.

After hours of letter-writing, getting away from his study was a relief. The long walk from his wing in the palace allowed him to stretch his legs, and by the time he caught his first whiff of komodo chicken, he felt almost human again. The fact that the windows were dark meant he'd been trapped in his study even longer than he'd thought, and with a sigh, he pushed his expected bedtime back another hour.

"Good evening, Prince Yumao," the cook said as he peered through the kitchen door. He supposed he could've just gone into the dining room and ordered something, but he'd always believed that having a cordial relationship with the servants led to a smoother operation, and he hadn't seen Sanae in a while.

"Hey, Sanae. Thought I smelled komodo chicken, so I figured I'd stop by."

The woman smiled. "You used to say the same thing whenever you smelled baked goods coming from this kitchen."

A strand of auburn hair stuck out of her ponytail, and he felt an impulse to push it back behind her ear. And then he remembered that he was getting married soon, to a girl he didn't even know, and that consorting with the cooks probably wasn't appropriate behavior for a prince. "You have a hair sticking out of your ponytail."

Sanae blushed, eyes panning up as if she'd actually be able to see the back of her head. "Oh. Now I'll be thinking about that until I have a chance to fix it."

"Sorry. Um, so . . ."

"You want a plate of komodo chicken? I'm assuming that's why you came all this way."

"Yes, please. When you have a moment."

The young woman smiled and flitted across the kitchen, peering into an oven. "Well, it'll be another minute or two, but I think I can manage it. Oh, Prince Yoru is awake, if you didn't already know."

"Really?" Oh, thank the spirits. "In that case, can you also get me a bowl of soup to bring to him? Something light, so it won't upset his stomach."

"I could send one of the servants to feed him," Sanae said, a smile dawning on her round face. "But knowing you, you'll want to take it to him yourself."

"Yes, that's right."

Sanae went over to the pot of soup sitting on the stove, tasted it, then grabbed a ladle and poured some into a bowl. Steam rose from the top as she set it aside to check on the komodo chicken, and in less than a minute, both dishes were sitting on a metal tray for him.

"Thanks, Sanae. Give everyone else my greeting. If I'm lucky, I'll see you again before my hand falls off from writing too much."

She waved to him as he disappeared down the hallway, tray in hand.

It wasn't a far walk to the infirmary; his father had ordered it be placed near the kitchens so it would be centered in the palace and easily accessible to servants and royalty alike. Yoru would be staying in one of the private rooms, away from the nurses and patients, probably the same room in which they'd fought off the sparrowkeet flu two years ago.

"Excuse me," he said to the first nurse he saw. The woman glanced up from her tray of medicine(the same trays they used in the kitchen, he noted with some surprise), eyes glinting with recognition. Wordlessly, she gave an awkward half-bow, still clutching the tray close to her chest. "I'm looking for my brother."

"Down that corridor, second room to the left, Prince Yumao."

He thanked her and hurried in the indicated direction. The tray was growing heavy in his hands, resting on sore muscles. It's been a long day. But I can't pawn off all my brother's tasks to him yet. He's still recovering.

He stepped into Yoru's room and found his brother staring at the ceiling, a blank look on his face. When Yumao didn't immediately approach, Yoru turned his head and looked over at him. "Oh, it's you. I thought it was going to be another damned doctor trying to interrupt my rest."

Relieved to hear the thread of emotion in his brother's voice, Yumao approached the bedside and set the tray on the table. "I brought you soup. And why do you have so many friends?"

Yoru started to chuckle, then grimaced. Yumao hovered over him, fingers twitching as if he could actually do something to alleviate the pain. His brother sunk deeper into the mattress and sighed. "Don't try to play doctor. I'm fine. The nurses said some stomach pain was normal for this kind of poison. They also said I had to eat, so if you don't mind bringing that soup over here where I can reach it . . ."

Yumao did as he was asked, laying a cloth between the fabric of his brother's hospital gown and the steaming bowl. The older man started to eat, slowly at first, then with more verve. "Who did you have to fuck to get this? It's amazing."

He rolled his eyes. "No one. Sanae made it for you because she's nice."

It was silent for a while, as they ate. Yumao sat at the side of the bed, relieved to have a break from his letter-writing duties, but even more relieved to hear his brother's voice. How am I going to manage when he goes off to war? I'm not cut out for this.

He sighed, and a rare smile found Yoru's lips. "You look sicker than I feel."

"I'm exhausted. You have too many contacts, and Father wants me to write them all."

"Did you tell him there's this invention called the telephone?"

"No. That would've been rude."

"Brother, the first thing you have to learn when dealing with Father is that you're never going to get your way by acting subservient. Be rude, make jokes, call him out on stupid aspects of his plans. That's how I get my way."

"Father loves you best." He took another bite of his komodo chicken, thinking. Father always loved you best.

"Hey, Yumao . . . You know that's not true, right? He loves you just as much."

He shrugged.

Yoru sighed. "We're Earth Kingdom, not Fire Nation. We work together as a whole, not against each other. We move more stone when we cooperate than we ever could alone."

Assuming all parties involved are earthbenders. He smiled. "I know. Nevertheless, I'm stuck with your paperwork, and I'm going to be up until one doing it."

Yoru's grin returned. "Yes, what will you do when I go off to war?"

"I was wondering the same."

"Well, you'll be married by then. I'm sure the princess of the water tribe will know how to write letters."

"I'm not going to ask my wife to do my duties."

"I do. And it's sort of irrelevant, considering they're my duties, not yours."

Yumao grabbed the last bit of meat from his plate, dipped it in sauce, and popped it into his mouth. Komodo chicken was really more of a Fire Nation food, though there were some komodo chicken farms in the Earth Kingdom. Still, he expected not to see too many of these from here on out. "Father mentioned that Chief Narue of the Northern Water Tribe had sent him a letter today. He only told me my bride" —his tongue tripped over the word— "would be arriving within the week, once he could send someone to collect her."

"Within the week? You'd almost think she was already in the Earth Kingdom."

He shrugged. "Father's having the event planner set up the wedding for within the month. I'll be expected to court her, just like I would any woman."

"Well, any woman you don't pay for," Yoru said.

Yumao threw him a sharp look. "Point being, I'll have to stay at her side and show her around New Haran, and I want to know if you know where I should take her."

"The lotus fountain in city square, that restaurant with all the mirrors, the palace gardens. Show her around yourself; the garden tours don't cover half of what's there. And take her downtown to see the lights. New Haran is the most modern city in the world. Let her see it in all its grandeur."

Yumao nodded, committing those places to memory. They were all places where he'd "dated" concubines, all places designed for people with prestige or money. "Is that how you got Xing to sleep with you?"

"That's how Xing got me to sleep with her."

He rolled his eyes. "She is your wife, you know."

"Yes, she reminds me of that on a daily basis."

"That's not nice."

"We're royalty. We don't have to be nice, we just have to be useful."

Yumao swallowed against the coil of anger in his stomach, hoping Yoru wouldn't notice the frustration writ bold across his face. When his brother arched an eyebrow, he let out a sigh. "Are you done with your soup?"

"Yes. Take it back to the kitchen, for me, would you?"

Wordlessly, he took the bowl back and set in on the tray beside his now-empty plate of komodo chicken. He'd have one of the servants bring it back so the dishes could be washed, but he wasn't about to go wandering the halls like a steward. Bad enough I fetch food for myself in the first place. I should've just waited for my servant to get back and told him to do it.

"Yumao, one more thing."

He paused in the doorway. "What?"

"Did you tell Xing to open that letter?"

His mind flickered back to the gala, to his brother's insistence on passing on that message, and his subsequent encounter with Xing. At the time, he'd been curious as to what was so important that Yoru would bring it up during what could've been his final words. Now, with his brother recovering from the assassin's poison and irritation welling up inside him, he didn't care. "I told her. I'm sure whatever you had to say that was so important reached her."

Yoru's eyes flickered away, and he rolled, turning once again to stare at the ceiling, in the same position he'd lain in when Yumao had first entered. "Good. It was an important message." His words were curt, emotionless. As if Yoru had lifted a wall between them.

Fine, he thought, walking away. Then let there be a wall.

"And this is the West Garden." Irruk made a sweeping gesture, his sleeve wafting even in the stagnant city air.

"Oh, it's beautiful. Don't you think so, Freya?"

Freya glanced up from the pot of panda lilies on the steps. "It's lovely." Her voice was weak, her shoulders sagging. Her family had been staying at Irruk's house for four days, ever since he'd invited them over in New Haran's City Hall, and while he'd extended every comfort and hospitality to them, Freya couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted something more. Maybe he wants to scam us, she thought, pretending to admire a row of topiary. Some poor gardener had probably spent hours pruning each hedge, shaping them into such figures as komodo rhinos and sparrowkeets.

Their tour continued, a repeat of the shorter tour Irruk had given them when they'd arrived. Her brother walked at her side, twirling a miniature paper parasol between his fingers. "Where did you get that?" Freya asked.

Kotai glanced up. "There was a bunch of them in the kitchen. Irruk said he put them in drinks." The boy frowned. "Do you think he meant tea or alcohol?"

"Alcohol." She'd seen the rows of colored bottles lined up on the kitchen shelves when she'd been poking around for something to eat. If nothing else, Irruk had expensive tastes.

"And this is the koi pond," Irruk said, gesturing toward the looping channels at their feet. "We've got several different breeds here. I'm fond of the red and white ones. Aren't they delightful?"

"I don't trust any man that uses the word 'delightful' more than once an hour," she murmured to her brother. He nodded emphatically, then started spinning the tiny parasol so the patterns blurred into streaks of color.

They made it through the garden, and Irruk led them back inside. "That's the end of today's tour. If you'd like any refreshments, the kitchen is at your disposal. I would offer you a servant to tend to your needs, but I'm afraid I don't allow such . . . unimportant people in my house. You understand."

I understand that you're a jerk, she thought, pressing her lips together to avoid voicing her thoughts. Her mother's laugh tinkled through the room. "Oh, we understand completely. Never trust a street rat to walk through your halls—they'll steal the first valuable thing they come across."

Her teeth ground together. She'd invited Ferron into her home dozens of times, and he'd never stolen anything. Not that he'd ever strayed from her side, or stayed more than an hour per visit. He'd always walked in the exact center of the hallway, arms rigid at his side, as if he was afraid even touching the furniture would cause it to collapse.

Thinking of Ferron made her heart ache anew. She shoved the thought aside and headed over to the tea-maker by the sink. Chamomile. That's what she needed. It would ease her nerves, calm her system. And the taste would sooth the sore spot in her heart.

"Freya, dear, your father and I are heading out. We want to explore the city. Would you like to come?"

"No thanks." She poured the ingredients into the tea maker and started it. The machine hummed as it worked, a constant, meaningless buzz that had her mind wandering after just a few seconds. She was barely cognizant of Kotai wandering back to his room, and even less aware of Irruk approaching from behind.

"You know," he said. Freya jumped, then whirled to face him. "Despite the hair, you are a lovely young lady."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Thanks."

"I was wondering if you had anyone in your life—a boyfriend, a fiance, something like that."

"I'm too young to have a fiance." And if I wanted a boyfriend that badly I would've gone with Ferron.

"Ah. So, no one? No great love?"

"No one." She stepped around him, the edge of her hip gliding against the counter as she tried to put some distance between them. He turned, shifting closer as she pulled a tea cup from the cupboard.

"Such a shame. Then again, with the way things are in Ba Sing Se, it's no surprise that you never found anyone who could meet your standards."

"What are you implying?" she demanded.

"Just that there's a lot of poverty in Ba Sing Se. It's not the grand city it used to be."

She said nothing, waiting for the tea maker to finish producing a cup's worth the beverage. The dark liquid dripped into the pot with frustrating sluggishness.

Irruk went on. "I'm sure you'll find more suitable companions here. New Haran is the greatest city in the world."

"I disagree."

"Oh? Then what's your favorite city?"

Anywhere but here. "Republic City. It has so much more personality than this place."

Irruk slid another step closer. She threw him an annoyed glance, making a deliberate movement away from him. His eyes flickered down to her feet, his genial smile faltering for just a moment. When he looked at her again, his dark blue eyes went as cold as midnight in winter. Freya's eyes darted to a pot of panda lilies as she judged how much concentration it would take to bend the pot over Irruk and upend it over his head.

"You are a unique little treasure, aren't you?" Irruk finally said.

The line of her jaw hardened. Behind her, a bell went off, announcing the end of the brewing process. She made no move to take her tea.

Irruk's eyes flickered between her face and the tea maker. Then, smooth as vegetable oil on a tiled floor, he stepped back and started for the living room. When he reached the doorway, he paused, his hand coming to rest on the wood. "I like you quite a bit, Freya. You have a spark. It's been a long time since I've met someone like you." He stepped across the threshold, leaving her alone.

Freya turned to the tea maker, poured until her cup was full, then hurried to her temporary bedroom, trying to fight the furious tears welling up in her eyes. How dare he? How dare he treat her like she was some treasure to be acquired? How dare he corner her when her parents were out? How dare he act as if the whole ordeal had been nothing but an ordinary encounter?

Bastard, she thought, gulping down half her chamomile tea before setting it on her desk. Fine. If he wants to step where he doesn't belong, I'll keep a record of it. And if he ever tries anything, I'll have evidence against him. She pulled a notebook out of her backpack, ripped out the last three pages of sketches, and started writing.

Three thousand torches lit the destroyed city, two-thirds of them surrounding the buffet tables. Taemin sat at the end of the royal table, looking out at the plaza as thousands of survivors stuffed bread rolls and dumplings in their mouths. Servers moved up and down the rows, replacing depleted trays to appease the starving guests. This was the right choice, she told herself, trying to ignore her advisors' objections. Costly. Not enough resources. Not important enough to merit her attention when there was a war to fight. But at least some of her people would go back to the shelters with full stomachs.

She turned to Yaku. "What else needs to be dealt with for the war?"

"Recruitment," he said at once. "Conscription is always an option, but you should make a campaign for voluntary service. Enough people are furious about the attack. They want to fight back."

She nodded. "Schedule a television appearance for me. Do it for several channels and stagger the appearances. I'll need details on how citizens can apply for military service, and the benefits of doing so."

"Yes, my lady. I'll have a list for you within the hour." He hurried off, the papers on his clipboard fluttering in the wind. Taemin picked up several moon peaches and set them on her plate.

Before she could even bite into one, another of her advisors approached, clipboard in hand. "My lady, if you have a moment."

She set down her moon peach. "What is it, Araneo?"

"Henso and I have been discussing the possibility of getting you a new firebending teacher, since Xaris has not been seen since the attack."

Because he's dead, Taemin thought, looking down at her plate. "I see."

"We were wondering if you might have any specific teacher in mind."

"I don't have time for firebending lessons with a war going on."

"Henso and I believe it is in your best interest."

And are you Henso's servant or his equal? She bit back the question—it had no place here, in front of the entire city. "Am I going to be on the front lines?"

Something like annoyance flickered in Araneo's eyes. "Not unless you choose to be. But we believe firebending would help you relax."

Her expression, already pinched, soured further. She said nothing.

"Lady Taemin, please forgive me if this seems too domineering, but a Fire Lady must develop a rounded skill set. Firebending is part of who you are. You cannot ignore it any more than you can ignore the fact that you are one of the youngest rulers ever to take charge of the Fire Nation. And being royalty comes with its own perils. Say someone challenges you to an Agni-Kai. What would you do?"

"No one's challenged a Fire Lord to an Agni-Kai in three generations."

"Say someone does. Will you dishonor yourself by refusing to fight, or will you accept their challenge, knowing you can triumph?"

"I'll do the firebending lessons," she snapped, feeling more like the twelve-year-old she was than she had since before the bombings. "But I don't have to like it."

Araneo nodded, making note of that on her clipboard. "Good. You'll start tomorrow, or as soon as your preferred teacher can make it here. Do you have anyone in mind?"

Taemin thought about it for a moment. If she'd had the option, she'd have contacted one of her cousins to teach her. But except for Meira and Zelda in the North Pole, she didn't know if any of her cousins were still alive. I should check on that, she thought, a pit forming in her stomach. Maybe Sanna will be willing to teach me. If she survived.

"Lady Taemin? Do you have any suggestions."

"How many of my cousins survived the attack?"

Araneo blinked. "Um . . ."

"My Lady," Henso said, approaching the table. He bowed his head. "I hope you are enjoying your dinner. Regarding your question, I'm afraid we've been unable to reach any of your cousins since the attack, though it's safe to assume the ones in the Northern Water Tribe survived. And being a branch of the royal family, your cousins will likely be busy sorting out political issues. At least the ones old enough to do so." His eyes focused on her face, and she stiffened, noting the strange look of disappointment there. Or contempt, she thought, hands clenching into fists. Henso went on. "If you don't have any other suggestions, we will select a teacher for you."

"Fine." She grabbed a moon peach from her plate and bit into it, trying to temper her frustration. The sweet juice flowed across her tongue, plunging her into memories of the last time she'd had moon peaches. Sitting in the palace dining hall, her mother's tinkling laugh ringing above the crowd as she sipped from a glass of wine, her father smiling broadly as Yaku tried and failed to censor him. Father always said what he was thinking, even when his advisors told him not to. But Father knew what he was doing. "Do whatever you want," she said. "Just leave me alone."

Surprise flickered across her advisors' faces. They exchanged glances, then bowed in unison. "As you wish, Fire Lady Taemin," Araneo said.

"We'll speak again tomorrow," Henso said. "But we are always available for counsel should you change your mind before then."

Just go, she thought, struggling against the sense of unfairness rippling through her lungs. Just leave me alone for five minutes. I never even wanted to be Fire Lady in the first place.

Author's Notes:

You guys were supposed to yell at me if I went this long without updating! How am I supposed to be motivated when no one orders me to update? Gah! But anyway, sorry for the delay. I know the long time between updates probably means you've forgotten a lot of the minor characters, so I really will try to be better about fleshing those characters out more before I add new ones. Hopefully the next chapter will come sooner, though I do have a lot of band stuff coming up this month. Anyway, thanks to all my readers, and special thanks for any of you who choose to review. Happy Halloween!