Chapter 37
This chapter marks the return of one of my favorite side characters in Heirs of Ozai. Enjoy!
"What was your favorite song as a child?" Temurin asks. Azula sits up in bed, a map of Qima open in her lap. Temurin lounges in the bedside chair, fingers entwined with Azula's. Her hands are still far too thin.
"My favorite song?" Azula asks, bemused.
"Yes," Temurin grins.
"There wasn't much singing in my family," Azula replies. But her eyes twinkle.
"Come on." Temurin scoots his chair closer. "Tell me."
"I—all right. It was called 'My Country is Red.'"
Temurin blinks. It's a war song. Hardly the kind of song most young girls would like. But of course, Azula hardly had an ordinary childhood.
"Does it go like this?" Temurin hums the melody, which rises and falls like a heartbeat. Perfect accompaniment for the stomping march of iron-clad feet.
"Yes. Now stop," Azula says, flushing. "That kind of song doesn't belong here."
Instead, Temurin stands up, sits on the bed, and starts singing dramatically.
"My country is red/ our veins are hot/with the blood of the conquered…"
Still singing, he moves the map off of Azula's lap and raises his eyebrows at 'conquered.' He leans in teasingly.
"Our ships are vast, my spear is sharp—"
Azula cackles and slaps her hand over his mouth. "Enough!" she orders, laughing.
"You don't like my singing?" Temurin asks innocently. "I've always been told I sing very well."
"You do sing well," Azula says begrudgingly. She leans in eagerly to kiss him, and Temurin meets her. At times like this, she almost seems like a different person. Or perhaps the person she could have been.
But any abstract thoughts of fate and upbringing quickly fly from Temurin's head as Azula deepens the kiss, pulling Temurin further onto the bed. He braces himself against the mattress, trying not to put any weight on Azula. Her hand runs down his back and slips under his tunic to touch his bare skin. Spirits. It's been…a long time.
With effort, Temurin pulls away, and, before Azula can compel him back, half-falls off the bed. He straightens his overshirt.
"What?" Azula demands.
"You're still in recovery," Temurin says, slightly out of breath.
"So be careful," Azula says wickedly.
Temurin freezes. "That's…really not a good idea. No. Definitely not."
He walks behind his chair and grips it tightly, as if holding onto a physical object will keep his own desires at bay.
"Azula, just a week and a half ago you took an axe to the head. And you're trying to quit yapian—"
"Not trying. I will stop," Azula says sharply.
"Of course," Temurin reassures her. "But you're going through a lot right now. Physically and emotionally. So let's just…go slow."
Azula shoots him her most deadly glare. Temurin meets her narrowed eyes levelly, even though a small, primal part of him wants to run away from her terrifying gaze. How can she be both so gorgeous and so frightening?
"Fine," Azula sighs. She glances out the window to the setting sun. "Aren't you supposed to go have dinner with your family?"
"Yes," Temurin says, halfway grateful to leave the room. He ducks down and kisses Azula quickly on the forehead.
"I'll come back after dinner."
As soon as Temurin walks into the cedar-paneled dining room, he realizes it's a trap. His mother sips a glass of wine at the head of the small table, dressed in ornate grey robes embroidered with curling brown vines. Haojun sits at Hegane's left, hands dark with charcoal, but Jinlian doesn't seem to notice. When Jinlian sees Temurin she blanches.
Because sitting next to Jinlian—or rather, hulking next to her—is Guo.
"What is this, Mother?" The golden glow of happiness that had enveloped Temurin dissolves like mist in harsh sunlight. How dare she?
"Sit, Temurin," Hegane orders.
Temurin swallows the harsh words he wishes he could say. Haojun is looking at him with puzzlement. Poor sweetheart. She still doesn't truly understand.
Slowly, Temurin settles into the chair to Hegane's right. For his daughter's sake, he can sit here for an hour. He can.
"We are all family," Hegane pronounces. She places one hand on Temurin's forearm. "Guo fought for Qima, and so did you. In times like these, we all need to pull together. Present a united front."
Temurin's arm twitches involuntarily under his mother's firm hand. Jinlian looks nauseated and takes a deep draft of wine, while Haojun's lip trembles like she's about to cry. Even Guo looks deeply uncomfortable and out of place. An ox stuck in mud. Temurin's mind flashes to that night, when he threw Guo out of his bed and his home. The younger man had looked terrified. And guilty.
We're all guilty of something, Temurin thinks grimly. His own illegal activity has landed his nephew in house arrest and possibly worse. Azula has proven that people can change even after committing the worst of crimes. Although stealing someone's wife does rank fairly highly on the list of wrongs.
Temurin focuses on Jinlian. How does she feel about this ambush? At his gaze Jinlian purses her lips and lifts her chin in that defiant, regretful way she always does. Temurin waits for the wave of hurt that always comes when he thinks of her betrayal.
It doesn't come.
Instead, for the first time, Temurin feels only pity. And sorrow. Jinlian looks more miserable than he feels, her long dark hair pulled back tightly. She used to wear it loose. Next to her mother, Haojun's eyes are wide and sad. What kind of childhood will she have, if Temurin refuses to speak to her mother's husband? She doesn't deserve this.
Temurin realizes that everyone is staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He's probably been silent too long. He works his jaw. He knows what he wants to say. And he knows what he ought to say. A horrible pressure builds in his chest. Is this what Azula felt like, on the starry bridge she described? A choice. A choice to let go.
"We are a family," Temurin finally says stiffly. He locks eyes with Jinlian. "And the past…is the past."
Jinlian's eyes well with tears. Hegane dabs her face discreetly with her sleeve.
"Well. Well then," Hegane says. "Let's eat."
Hegane and Haojun chatter about their day while Temurin ladles rice to each of them. When he reaches Guo's bowl, he meets the younger man's eyes.
"How is your arm healing?" Temurin asks. "No swelling?"
"No. Thank you," Guo says.
"It was a nasty break," Temurin says, hoping he conceals his schadenfreude. He's not sure he succeeds.
As the meal winds down, Haojun starts to get more irritable: a sure sign that she's tired.
"I'll take her to bed," Temurin excuses himself. His chair makes a scraping sound against the floor as he stands. But he can still hear a faint rumble, so quiet at first he thinks it's his imagination.
"What is that?" His mother frowns.
The stutter grows louder and louder until it's practically overhead. Temurin hurries to the window, jerking the curtains away.
An airship emblazoned with the symbol of the United Republic hovers over the snow-covered lawn. As Temurin watches, a platform lowers from the bottom of the ship; he can make out tiny figures holding torches.
"The Yu Dao delegation is early," Hegane remarks.
"Where did they get an airship?" Jinlian scowls.
Temurin feels cold sweat on the back of his neck. They're here already. The people who will decide Jirou's fate.
He and Guo flank Hegane as they march out into the evening snow to greet their guests. His mother has raided the former Mayor Sota's closet again, digging out an impressive black cape with white fur. Colors of mourning and neutrality. Temurin glances at the lit windows of the mansion. He hopes Azula will stay out of sight.
A woman dressed in a scarlet cloak leads the group from Yu Dao. Her hair is tied up elaborately, and she has an air of haughty confidence that makes Temurin sure she is the leader. The two clusters halt in front of each other, lit by torches.
"Welcome to Qima," Hegane says warmly in the darkness. "I am Hegane, the mayor of this town, and leader of those who support the United Republic. We are delighted to have you here, although we did not expect you so early."
"I am Fengxia, and I serve the United Republic Council in Yu Dao." says the scarlet-cloaked woman. She raises one eyebrow. "Qima may be small, but across the world people speak of how Qima resisted oppression and declared its loyalty to the Republic. The Council feels you merit swift attention."
"We are grateful," Hegane smiles.
While Temurin's mother escorts the party inside and out of the frigid weather, Temurin glances back to the airship. There are about ten people on the ground. How many people are still in the airship? Will it be enough to keep both the injured Fire Nation soldiers and Crooked Zhao's rebels at bay?
The next half hour is filled with flowery pleasantries and mutual greetings that leave Temurin bone-tired. Politics may be a game of life or death, but it's a boring match. After what seems like an eternity, Temurin leads the delegation to the suite of rooms at the back of the mansion. He walks next to Fengxia. Her lips are painted a bloody red, but it doesn't conceal the fact that she is young, only around Temurin's age. She must be very intelligent or very well connected to have risen so high in the new Republic.
Fengxia removes her scarlet cloak and drapes it casually over her arm. To Temurin's mild shock, her abdomen swells gently with the unmistakable fullness of pregnancy. Quickly, he averts his eyes so he doesn't appear rude.
"Aren't you the one who allowed your nephew contact rebels and criminals?" Fengxia asks abruptly. Her brown eyes glint.
Temurin narrows his eyes. "I wouldn't say I allowed him to do so."
"Your nephew has caused quite a problem for the United Republic," Fengxia says sharply. "Some want him to die as a traitor."
Temurin's heart freezes. "Surely that's too extreme," he says. "He's only a boy."
"A boy who could have started a three-way war." Fengxia shakes her head, unforgiving. Her jade earrings rattle.
"What I want to know—and what I hope your nephew will tell me—is how many other rebels lurk in the United Republic," she continues. "I need names, I need contacts, and I need the whereabouts of other rebel camps."
"Jirou doesn't know anything," Temurin pleads with her. They stop at the sliding doors leading to the newcomers' quarters.
"Well that is very unfortunate. For all of us." Fengxia's mouth sets like she's been assigned an unpleasant task. Nevertheless, she turns away coolly. Two of her companions open the doors for her.
Temurin is left staring at her red-embroidered back, filled with a chill certainty. Unless he does something, Jirou will not leave this mansion alive.
He needs to talk to Azula.