Chapter 11

Jinlian,

After what you've done, you're not in a position

I would never let my daughter near that oaf you

How could you even think

If you had only said earlier

Temurin crumples up the piece of paper and throws it at the outer coals, nearly wrenching his elbow. He misses. Damn. Swearing loudly by each individual spirit he knows, Temurin rises and snatches the paper from the ground. The ink on the first two characters smears under his fingers. He tosses the note into the fire. The paper shrivels pathetically—edges turning black, then a crumbling grey with one bright line of fire. The heat consumes the crossed-out characters and crumpled parchment from the outside in—black, grey, gone. Temurin's words are ash in the plains breeze. But soon they'll be in Bahasa, then Qima, and Temurin will have to reply to Jinlian's letter.

Temurin stares at the coals. They slumber orange-white in a bed of black. Some non-bender mystics can walk on coals and even hold the embers in their hands without being burnt. He supposes the spirits must protect them from pain.

If only they did that for everyone.

Temurin buries his face in his hands. His daughter must be so confused. And abandoned. Why didn't he take Haojun with him that night, that darkest night? Instead he ran, he ran like a coward after throwing Jinlian out, he left Haojun and threw himself into his work. But he waited too long. Who knows what Jinlian's been telling her, what Haojun thinks of her father now.

And now Jinlian is married. To someone who isn't him.

The thought is ludicrous, unimaginable. Temurin would never believe it. Except Temurin saw them together with his own eyes.

The fire pops. A small ember lands on Temurin's pant leg, but he can't be bothered to brush it away.

Unimaginable. Impossible. Yet images of that worst night flash through his head. Temurin digs his fingers even deeper into his forehead, as if he could claw them out. But as always, he opens the door and there she is—

"What's wrong with you?"

Nekana emerges from the shadows and sits on the ground near the fire. Her hair is out of its usual ponytail and lays loose around her shoulders. The firelight tinges her skin rosy orange.

"Not your problem." Temurin quickly brushes the heels of his hands under his eyes.

"You're back very late," he adds caustically as he brushes the last bits of moisture from his cheeks. Nekana merely shifts her gaze to the flames, hugging her knees to her body in a fetal position. She still wears his green Earth Kingdom coat, even though the shoulder is shredded from the "bandit" attack on New Azulon.

They sit in silence. The fire crackles. Jirou is probably asleep; spirits know where Altan is. But even though it's late, Nekana still sits there and stares into the fire like she can see the future in the flames.

"I know you have a daughter," she says. "I read the letter."

Temurin rips up a clump of prairie weeds and throws the dry grass into the fire. They catch fire before they even hit the ground. The world seems to shrink to just their fire, a tiny bubble of light under the endless tent of the stars. But the deep, deep well of sorrow in Temurin's lungs reminds him that there is a world outside this clearing. Outside the firelight and Nekana huddled for warmth wait a whole universe of darkness.

"I doubt you know everything," Temurin says. "Did you know that I was laughed out of my village after my wife left me? What good is a man who can't hold on to his own?

"Did you know I ripped my wife off another man? That I threw her and her lover out onto the street at night while my daughter cried? That I left two days later and I haven't gone back?"

"Did you kill the lover?" asks Nekana. Her face is inscrutable in the fire's glow.

"No," Temurin says. "I didn't. Because I'm a coward." Another clump of grass glows golden-orange and disintegrates in the fire's heat.

"Cowardice is one way to look at it," agrees Nekana. Her face scrunches like she's concentrating. "But someone I know would say you were merciful."

"It's not mercy if I didn't have the guts to do it," dismisses Temurin.

"But you've killed before," says Nekana. "You killed in self-defense in New Azulon."

"Thanks for the reminder."

The bandit's blue-stained, bloated face swims in Temurin's memory. Was he working for Crooked Zhao? Then Temurin considers Nekana's words.

"Wait. Are you trying to encourage me by saying at least I'm not a murderer?" he asks incredulously.

"That's more than many of us can say," Nekana replies grimly.

Temurin bursts into laughter.

"Nekana, 'not a murderer' is a seriously low bar!" he laughs. After a second, Nekana joins in, relaxing from her crouched position. Her golden eyes narrow as she laughs and shakes her head.

"I didn't say you were a good person!" she clarifies. "You're just not the worst!"

This only makes Temurin laugh harder.

"You know what, Nekana? You're not the worst, either," he says.

A smile curves her lips, making her look like the young woman she is rather than a grim warrior. Then the smile quickly vanishes.

"You don't know me, peasant."

"I know you're running from someone. And yet you long to go home."

Nekana exhales like Temurin hit her.

"I am. I do."

She scoots closer to the fire, accidentally bumping into Temurin as she tries to get warm.

"Sorry," he says reflexively.

"Do you remember before the attack on New Azulon?" Nekana asks, ignoring his apology. "How I acted…a little odd."

If she calls shouting at the air and nearly strangling him 'odd.'

"I remember."

"I read the note from your wife," Nekana says. "I grew up without a mother so reading Jinlian's letter…upset me."

"What happened to your mother?" Temurin realizes she's mentioned her father and brother in her tenuous backstory, but never her mother.

"What happened to my mother isn't important," Nekana says flatly. Temurin watches in mild concern as Nekana closes her eyes and breathes deeply in and out. She continues with her eyes shut.

"What I'm trying to say is: I grew up without a mother. That was hard. Children should have a mother. Daughters should have a mother."

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

Nekana's wide gold eyes flicker open, and Temurin is struck again by how very young she looks. Maybe it's the dying firelight against her clear skin. Or maybe it's just that her hair is down, softening the sharp edges of her face.

"I don't want Haojun to grow up without a mother!" he tells Nekana fervently. "But how can I trust Jinlian with anything after this?"

The fire is almost dead now, its heat gone. His breath puffs out in white plumes; the tip of Nekana's nose is red with cold. He shivers.

"Your problem isn't that you don't trust Jinlian with Haojun. You're just hurt."

Temurin scowls. It's a bit galling to hear the truth spoken aloud.

"You don't pull any punches, Nekana," he says finally.

Nekana smirks. "So you do know me!"

"So you do know me/Like the river knows the bank," Temurin sings. "Do you know that song?"

"Of course not," Nekana scoffs. "It sounds like folk music."

"Ah yes, and Princess Nekana never listens to peasant music."

Nekana laughs oddly and flops onto her back, looking at the stars.

"Just sing, peasant, before I change my mind."

He sings until Altan wanders in from the darkness, holding a scorched yet undercooked rabbit and wearing a sheepish expression.