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It was finally here: the morning of the Dawnservant’s ascension ceremony. Iojrao Ekrae—Warrior of Light and companion to the Third Promise of Tuliyollal—was alone in the borrowed cabin she shared with her fellow Warrior, Blahaj. They and a few other members of the family—Zaya, Haj’s second-oldest and tallest sister; Erden, Ioj’s childhood friend; and Rainen, her kid brother and arguably the family’s favorite—had already left for the markets and were likely scouring the Bayside Bevy for the perfect culinary treats to supplement Zaya’s pancakes.
That was mostly Rainen’s fault. As the youngest sibling (and probably cutest, although Ris would likely challenge her for Popoko’s honor), he was also the most spoiled. It had only been a few years since Haj’s family had helped rescue him from Kugane and informally adopted him into their ever-growing misfit family, but he’d learned fairly quickly that it was rare any of the older siblings could tell him no. He was also old enough at nearly fourteen to know when to leverage it to the best effect.
So, when Rai had oh-so-innocently lamented that it had been so long since he’d had proper pancakes, Haj had (metaphorically, and with Haj the distinction was always important) sunk their teeth into the opportunity for a cooking adventure, rallied the troops, and marched the four of them into town.
Iojrao had only avoided conscription by announcing—loudly—her need for a bath and a quiet morning on this damned trip, for once.
“Fine,” Haj had laughed, already pushing Rainen out the door. “Enjoy your quiet morning . See if we share any of the spoils!”
And she had been enjoying it—lounging on the open patio while her hair dried in the warm Turali sun, letting it seep into her skin and further relax her loose, sleepy muscles—when a knock startled her out of an almost-nap.
The knock was… strange. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and Haj and company wouldn’t knock. Maybe it was Davorin, or Ris? Or Bol Wuruq, the concierge for For’ard. (At least, Ioj thought she was the concierge. It dawned on her she didn’t actually know the woman’s title, if she had one at all.)
“Coming, one second!”
With a sigh, Ioj pushed herself off the chair and slow-jogged to the door before throwing the bolt and pulling it wide open.
“O-oh.”
Iojrao had expected to find a familiar if surprising figure on her doorstep. The fact that the familiar-yet-surprising figure was Koana, the Second Promise, the stoic, handsome, bespectacled Miqo’te she totally was not even slightly into, nope, not at all—made her whole brain shut down.
“Surprised to see me?” he asked. “I suppose it is only natural…”
Koana was impeccably dressed, of course; his customary green coat brushed the tops of his boots as it rustled in the seaside breeze. Iojrao had never seen him with a hair out of place (except, perhaps, just after a fight), but the comparison to her own garb—a loose wrapped top, cuffed canvas shorts, and a pair of plush house slippers—made her feel a bit underdressed.
In the five seconds it took her to reboot, Koana took in her casual attire and unbound, slightly-damp hair and frowned, his cheeks turned rosy.
“Apologies for coming unannounced. If this is a bad time—”
“No, no, it’s a great time!” Whoa. Calm down, Iojrao. “What I mean is, I’m not doing anything important. Just enjoying some morning sunshine.” Better.
“I see. Then may I come in?”
He said it as he said everything else: calm, measured, professional. That didn’t matter to her traitorous heart, which tried to pound its way out of her chest at the question. Surely Koana couldn’t hear it… could he?
Not trusting herself to speak, Iojrao nodded and stepped aside to let him pass; the door shut behind him with a soft click. She watched as he took in the cabin, silently wishing she’d tidied up a bit before his visit. Not that it was particularly messy; most of their things were shoved into a corner in the sleeping area, which Koana blessedly could not see from the entrance.
She was letting her nerves get to her. Over a man. A man who only thought of her in the context of his sister, if at all. A man who could get under her skin with a single appraising stare. A man who—
Who was frowning at their empty rooms.
Shit.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
Koana’s ear twitched slightly, but his expression was carefully neutral as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “You are alone?” Then, as if he’d realized exactly how that sounded (and exactly which track her thoughts were recklessly careening along), he stiffened. “I meant— Is Blahaj not here? I had intended to speak with both of you.”
Iojrao laughed, more relieved than she had any right to feel.
“They’re shopping in the city with some of the family. Little brother had a breakfast craving.”
“Ah.” Koana nodded, a small smile softening his features. “Rainen, yes?”
Right—she had mentioned Rai before, hadn’t she? After Wuk Lamat had been kidnapped, and the two of them had shared an older sibling heart-to-heart. That had been the first time she'd really seen Koana—as he actually was and not as he presented himself to be—and she hadn't been able to look away since.
“That’s right,” Iojrao answered, pleased he had remembered. “I’ll have to introduce you. I think you’d get along.”
Rai was the studious sort, with less of a love for grand adventure than she and quicker to think than to action. He and Koana were alike in many ways, and sometimes when she looked at Koana she saw little reflections of her brother. Like when he let down his guard and his sensitive side shone through, or when the thrill of a new idea lit a spark behind his eyes.
Oh, fuck; she was in trouble.
“Perhaps another time,” Koana answered, and Iojrao felt the weight of disappointment settle in her stomach like a stone.
Yep. Definitely in trouble.
“I shan’t stay long. I had intended for you both to be here, but…”
“Sorry,” she said, and then stopped. Why was she the one apologizing? He was the one who had shown up with no warning. “I’m not sure when they’ll be back. I could send for you when they return,” she offered. “Or we could come to the palace, since you’ve already come all this way and we'll be—”
Koana shook his head. “It is not that important,” he assured her. “Or, rather, it is not something they must hear from me. Lamaty’i plans to broach the subject with you both after the ceremony. I am but the messenger.”
There was something wrong, something sad about the way he said it, but Iojrao didn’t have time to dwell on it because the next thing he said nearly knocked her off her feet.
“My sister wishes for you to take up a position within her council, once she has become Dawnservant.”
The words echoed in her horns, resonated within her mind, but she couldn’t understand them. Koana, either purposeful or oblivious, continued.
“I know it may seem sudden,” he said, “or perhaps a strange request altogether. But the two of you have become… irreplaceable to her. You don’t have to make a decision right away,” he added, quick to head off the concern he must have seen growing in her eyes. “But do think about it. Her success in the Rite—no, more than that—the way in which she has grown into her own strengths is in no small part due to your support and companionship. As her brother, I am more proud of her than words can truly express—and more grateful to you than I can say.”
She could tell he meant every word; his features always lost their hard edges when he spoke of Wuk Lamat. That softness, that love for her, was one of the things that drew Iojrao to him in the first place. But… a seat on the Dawnservant’s council? To stay in Tural, perhaps forever…
“Expressing myself in such a fashion still does not come naturally to me,” he continued, “but… thank you. Please know you have my most heartfelt gratitude.” Koana paused. “Truthfully, the bond you three share stirs no little jealousy.”
That pulled her right up from the depths and back into reality.
“ Jealousy?” she echoed. “You’re her brother. You know her better than anyone.” At his answering frown, Ioj added, “Besides, she couldn’t have done it without your help, too.”
Koana’s frown shifted from skepticism to sadness, then into a smile tempered by doubt. “Not enough to have a place at her side, I fear.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed—that small huff of self-deprecation she had come to recognize over the last few months—and looked away. “I merely mean that, while she has asked for both of you quite… emphatically…” Koana closed his eyes. “She has yet to make any mention of me.”
“But, why…?” A stupid question. It didn’t matter why, even if Koana knew. “That doesn’t sound like her. I’m sure she’s just caught up in all of the ceremonial things,” she said. “Everything is happening so quickly. Maybe it slipped her mind?”
“On the contrary,” he countered, meeting her gaze again, “Lamaty’i seems to have things well in hand.”
Iojrao floundered for a moment, trying to think of some other reason Wuk Lamat might be pushing him out—even unintentionally. And she was sure it was unintentional; the Wuk Lamat she knew could never. But all her thoughts felt like excuses, and a logical thinker like Koana would only tear holes in them, anyroad.
Still, she had to say something.
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you.”
Koana’s smile grew, the shape of it still shy of his deep purple eyes. “That is kind of you to say. But I think Lamaty’i has… outgrown me. I am not complaining,” he added, “only it is a bittersweet feeling. Surely as an older sibling yourself, you understand.”
Iojrao did understand. She had gotten used to being needed, not as the Warrior of Light but as a sister. Rai could have shut her out and would have had every right to, after all their time spent apart. But she had fulfilled her promise to return, even if she was a few years later than she’d planned, and he had fully embraced her presence in his life again. The two of them had fallen into a happy coexistence and picked up right where they’d left off. It felt good to be needed; to be his reassurance, his guardian, his advice giver, his listening ear, his secret snack sharer. Some days it felt like she’d never left Kugane in the first place.
But she had, and he’d spent some of his life growing up without her. He was still growing up. In just a few, ever-shortening years, Rai would be an adult; every day that passed, he needed her a little bit less. And it made her proud, watching him learn and grow and race after his own dreams; but there was always a note of grief in her heart, knowing their lives were changing little by little. The day he didn’t need her anymore—the day he would no longer be a child but a man grown, running off on his own adventures without his sister to hold his hand—would be bittersweet indeed.
That didn’t mean Koana was right.
“But she does need you,” Iojrao said. “She hasn’t outgrown you at all.” Koana began to protest, but Iojrao wasn’t going to let him. “No, damn it, listen to me!”
At her vehemence, Koana’s mouth shut with a soft pop. It surprised her, too, but she didn’t want to think about why his sudden lack of confidence annoyed her so much—or triggered such a strong need to protect him from himself. That was a problem for Later Ioj. Right Now Ioj had to pull his head out of his ass.
“When we were in Mamook, who did Wuk Lamat turn to for help? Not me, not Blahaj—she came to you . ‘The most clever person she knows.’” Koana opened his mouth again, but Ioj held up a hand and he thought better of interrupting. “You really have no idea how proud she is to be your sister, do you? She adores you! Why, I’ve never heard her say an ill word against you. She has nothing but the highest admiration for—”
Exactly when her own frustration had found an outlet in her limbs, Ioj wasn’t sure, but all at once she realized she was pacing. She’d always been like that—anger made her move, joy made her dance, sorrow urged her to run. With a deep breath, she forced herself to still.
Koana was staring at her, eyes alert, tail swishing in agitated arcs, ears titled away as if to avoid her wrath. Yet it was hard to tell what he was thinking, and Iojrao didn’t have the energy (nor did she know him well enough) to decipher it from his sparse nonverbal cues.
“Koana,” she said, voice soft but no less emphatic, “there is no possible scenario where she no longer needs your advice, your support, or your love. You're family—the way they're supposed to be. She won't cast her brother aside, or forget how much he has yet to give.”
Something in his mask cracked, then, allowing the ranks of emotions he’d been holding back to clash across the battlefield of his features. How could a man look embarrassed and pleased and flustered and doubtful and sad and hopeful all at once? Especially a man so guarded, so careful with his image, as Koana of Tuliyollal.
“I…” He swallowed, hard, fiddling with his glasses with nervous hands. “I suppose you are right.”
Iojrao found herself reaching out to him before she’d had the conscious thought. Her hand on his shoulder made him start, and his eyes flickered from it and back to her face so quickly she nearly missed it.
“Trust me,” she said, her smile placating. “You’re an incredible person, Koana. And I say that not knowing even half of all you’ve achieved. Look, I’ve traveled—a lot—and I’ve met all sorts of powerful, influential people. Real world leaders. Don’t take it lightly when I say that you have what it takes to be one of the good ones.”
At that, Koana huffed in annoyance. “Even if that is true, I am not going to be Dawnservant.”
Iojrao’s tail twitched in irritation. “And is being Dawnservant the only way to serve Tural?”
“You know that is not what I meant—”
What little control Iojrao had wrested back from her emotions shattered, her anger burning brighter than before. Some part of her knew she must look half-mad—she could feel the scales on her body raised, her tail quivering in anger. But she couldn’t help it any more than she could stop the star from revolving.
“Well, it sounds like it!” she snapped. “What is your problem? What happened to the man who shot his own chance at glory out of the sky? What about his vow to serve, even if that meant giving up the throne? We may have been on separate teams, but I fought beside you, Koana. I walked beside you, talked with you… I thought I'd come to understand you—as much as you will let anyone. But if this is how the Second Promise keeps his oaths, then he is not the man I thought he was!”
He stared at her— glared at her—the hue of his eyes glinting dark and dangerous beneath his drawn brows. “And what sort of man is he to you?”
“The best kind,” and anger turned to exasperation. Fuck, but she wanted to shake him! “Thoughtful, and clever, and reliable, and—and good!” And handsome and infuriating and stubborn and—! “The kind of man who loves his family more than himself! The kind of man who, who—who weighs every option and makes the right choice, even if it's not in his favor. Who’s honest about his failings, and listens and learns and tries to be better every day than he was the day before. That’s the sort of man he is. At least—” Ioj faltered, felt her face grow hot as his stare became too much to bear. “At least he is to me.”
The sharpness in his face softened, just a fraction. “You seem to have a high opinion of this Second Promise.”
“The highest,” she said, her voice cracking with sudden emotion. Twelve help her, she cared. She cared so much. “I might even be fond of him, if he’d stop trying to shut me out.”
A heavy, uncomfortable silence followed.
Wide eyes met hers, amethyst searching luminous lavender as he absorbed the full weight of her words. Iojrao imagined she could see the gears turning behind those eyes; the moment when everything clicked into place and Koana discarded his mask completely. Every part of him wilted—the arc of his tail, the angle of his ears, the stiff defiance in his shoulders. With a pained and broken sigh, Koana shook his head.
“Oh, but I am a fool,” he said, a bitter bite to every word. “The biggest fool, wool-headed and absurd and—and a most insufferable ass .”
Iojrao allowed herself the smallest smile. “Maybe.”
“There is no question,” he countered sharply. “I was—I am . And I owe you a most effusive apology.”
“Even so,” said Iojrao, “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have… Yelling at you wasn’t…” She wasn’t sure how to sum up everything she had just been, but Koana held up a hand.
“On the contrary, that was exactly what I needed,” he said. “I appreciate your candor.” Ears flat against his skull, Koana turned his head away. The motion hid his eyes behind the glint of his lenses; Iojrao wondered if it was intentional.
“Hey.” His eyes flicked back to hers. “Don’t do that.”
Koana’s frown became puzzled. “Do what?”
“Get lost in your head again.” To his surprise and her own, Iojrao reached for his hand and was encouraged when he didn’t pull away. The leather of his glove was pleasantly warm, worn smooth and supple with use. “Stay here. Talk to me.”
“I…” He sighed, the full weight of self-imposed expectations behind it. “I don’t know that I can. Put it into words, I mean.”
Iojrao knew that feeling. “Try?”
Koana closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell with one deep breath, and then:
“I am afraid,” he said, so softly she might have imagined it if he hadn’t spoken again. “I am afraid she will leave me behind. Not just Lamaty’i—all of Tural. I am afraid I will be no use to anyone, and—” Koana took another steadying breath. “And all I have worked for will amount to nothing.
“I should be happy for her. I am happy for her,” he said. His smile was brief but brilliant and true; then it was gone again, his anguish returning. “But her whole world is going to change. I do not know how long I will have a place in it.”
“You will always have a place in it,” she assured him. “Becoming the Dawnservant doesn’t mean you stop being family.” Iojrao placed her other hand over their joined ones. “Not everything has to change, Koana.”
Taking her own deep breath, she met his gaze, willing him to listen to her heart if not her words.
“I understand the fear of being used and cast aside,” she said softly. “I promise you, Wuk Lamat would never do that to you. And I think you know that, too.”
Koana made a sharp noise—not quite a gasp, not really a breath—and squeezed her hand in return. Then he closed his eyes, forcing himself to take slow, deliberate breaths. Ioj found herself breathing in time, letting the moment linger.
“I do,” he said, finally. “Thank you for… talking me down. I am—” Koana grimaced, growled in frustration, scrubbed his free hand over his face. “‘Grateful' is not a strong enough word. Embarrassed, certainly. Yet these are all I have. I am no better than a toucalibri, repeating the same calls over and over until they lose their meaning.”
“They mean something to me,” Iojrao said, her smile shy. “I don’t mind.”
That was the right thing to say, because Koana relaxed into his own smile. “Then thank you. Thank you, Iojrao Ekrae. I see now why Lamaty'i holds you in such esteem.”
Something about the way he said her name and the full force of his genuine, relieved, unguarded smile—or maybe the way the room was suddenly far too warm, even for Tural—made her want to melt into the floor.
“I-I just bullied you until you saw sense,” she countered. “ Thancred could have done that.”
His answering laugh startled her. “Bullied, she says! After saying some of the kindest things anyone has ever…” Koana flushed very red, suddenly, and he coughed and fiddled with his glasses again. “I suppose some of it was harsh,” he admitted, ears twitching a sporadic and nervous rhythm, “but the truth can be that way at times. I’ll not hold it against you. That is, if you will not hold my moment of weakness against me?”
If he smiled like that all the time, she’d likely forgive him far worse.
“Consider it forgotten.”
Koana squeezed her hand again in answer. Iojrao had nearly forgotten she was holding it, so comfortable did the weight of it feel in her palms. She grinned up at him in response, her cheeks already sore from the force of it.
He was so different like this—so much more real, somehow, than when he was playing the role of the dutiful prince. There was an ease in his shoulders, a flexibility to the lines of his body that she’d never seen in him before. From head to fluffy, gently joyfully swishing tail, Koana had become a completely different version of himself. An honest, gentle version. This was a Koana unburdened, comfortable in his world and his own skin.
This was the Koana she’d fallen for.
She found herself tracing the arc of his smile with her eyes, wondering what his lips would feel like against her own. Wondered if he would kiss her back, if she were to be so bold. He had nearly kissed her after the fight with Valigarmanda, she was sure—but had the moment passed? Had it merely been the rush of victory and survival pushing them toward each other? She knew a thing or two about that…
Iojrao realized she’d leaned toward him without even thinking—and that Koana was watching her with no small amount of consideration. His gaze dipped to her own mouth and flicked back up, eyes narrowed in a question. But…which question? Was he asking her intentions? For permission?
Iojrao hesitated.
“Koana, I…”
As if startled, he pulled away completely.
“S-speaking of forgetting—” Koana stopped, cleared his throat, adjusted his neckcloth. “I should return to Vollok Shoonsa. Father and Lamaty’i are likely wondering where I am.”
“Oh.” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck — “Yes. Of course.” Iojrao hoped she didn’t look as dazed and distraught as she felt. She nodded, unable to look at him anymore, and gestured toward the door. “Duty calls.”
Koana nodded; Iojrao let his hand slip from her fingers, already missing its warmth.
“I shall see you at the ceremony, then,” he said. “Thank you for letting me call on you.” A shadow—disgust, maybe?—passed over his features, so quickly she nearly missed it. “Enjoy the rest of your morning.”
And then, without waiting for reply, he was gone. The click of the latch sounded like cannonfire in the following silence—which was fitting, because Iojrao felt as if she’d been shot. She had forgotten how painful rejection felt; how it stole your breath as surely as a blow to the chest. How it made your whole body leaden as you stared numbly at the door hope had left through.
Maybe she’d been too pushy. Maybe she hadn’t been pushy enough. Maybe she should have asked him to stay; made him stay, even. Maybe she should have kissed him so stupid he wouldn’t even think of leaving.
Had she read him all wrong?
Get a grip, Ekrae. So he didn’t kiss you—so what? It’s not like he rejected you outright. You can always try again.
If she still wanted to.
Oh, damn it all, how was she going to face him at the ceremony after—
Another knock on the door startled her. She wrenched it open, heart already in her throat and hardly daring to hope. Yet there he was: Koana, frowning down at her, ears flat and tail whipping the air behind him. Ioj took a half step back, startled by the intensity of his stare.
“Oh!” She laughed a little, nervousness forcing it out of her. “What's wrong? Did you forget something?”
“Yes.”
Then his mouth was on hers, warm leather cupping her cheeks as he pulled her closer. Iojrao was dimly aware of him kicking the door closed behind him as he lead her back into the cabin. But the feeling of full lips against hers, the tug of his glove in her hair as one hand drifted to the back of her neck, and the firm press of his body against hers were all such a beautiful distraction that she didn’t care if the whole city knew he was kissing her.
And oh, what a kiss: slow and insistent, soft and needy, a hint of desperation teasing the edges of her senses. Iojrao answered in kind, her toes curling in her slippers as she ran her hands up his chest. When her wandering fingers found his neckcloth and tugged; when the other tangled his hair; when she pulled him even closer, her tongue teasing the bow of his lips, Koana hummed against her—soft and low and rumbling in a way that made her knees week.
Kami bless her but she needed to hear that sound again.
Her back thumped against the partition behind her, and Koana’s body closed her in, his hips pinning hers against the wood. With a sigh of satisfaction, Koana broke the kiss, eyes closed as he savored the moment and caught his breath. Equally breathless, Iojrao watched his lashes flutter, marveled at the contrast of green-black sheen against his skin and how it reminded her of butterfly wings.
The scent of leather and something industrial—machine oil, perhaps—mixed with the crisp ocean breeze as she studied his face. There was something else, something warm beneath it all. Coffee, she realized; she could still taste it on his lips, smell it in his hair. And, under even that, the scent of clean skin and green, earthy soap that was just Koana, stripped of all his layers and laid bare in her mind's eye.
Want, desperate and insistent, crawled into her veins. What might he be like, with her hands on his skin? Would he whimper as her nails teased through his tangle of curls, or traced the line of his spine? Would he even let her, or would he hold her down and—
His eyes, gentle and dark, fluttered open. That relaxed, fluid realness had returned, and when Koana smiled, it was as if his every wish had come true. Iojrao nearly stopped breathing.
No one had looked at her like that in a very, very long time.
“Hell of a thing to forget,” she whispered, when conscious thought had returned. Gods, Iojrao had forgotten what it was like to be so turned on that she misplaced her voice. Then Koana spoke, and he sounded just as needy and wrecked as she.
“I have wanted to do that since we were up on that damned mountain,” he confessed, low and rough and winded. “I could not let myself walk away from you again. Not without…” His eyes dropped to her lips again.
With his chin in her hands, Iojrao smiled and tilted his head up to meet her eyes. “Then don’t,” she said. “Stay.”
Surprise made his ears stand at attention—silly man; as if he’d expected any other reaction to an admission like that —and she watched the stunned set of his lips curl into a smirk. Then Koana removed his glasses and leaned in again. The force of his stare with no barrier to temper it made her breath hitch, and Iojrao found herself leaning away from him as the very core of her caught fire.
“That,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, “is a request I am happy to—”
The cabin door swung open with a bang, bouncing off the wall with a sound like rolling thunder. Iojrao startled, vision flashing as her skull collided with the wall behind. By the time the pain faded, Koana had already positioned himself between her and the intruders and was reaching for the gun he’d not brought with him.
Blahaj, two tall Xaela, and a young Raen lad—Zaya, Erden, and Rai—all stood in the open door, arms full of baskets and parcels from their trip into town. Haj took a power stance across the threshold and held a paper-wrapped package aloft, grinning ear to ear.
“We found bacon!! ” they declared.
A moment passed in tense silence as Iojrao watched realization dawn on each of their faces.
Zaya merely looked stunned, her tail at attention as she stared at the two of them.
Blahaj’s mouth shifted, becoming so comically round that it reminded Ioj of that wacky, would-be detective they were always hanging around. Their head snapped between Iojrao and Koana, eyes wide and unblinking.
Erden gaped at her, brows climbing into his fluffy brown hair; his free hand slid over Rainen’s eyes, but Rai pushed him away with a huff.
“Cut it out, Erden—I know what kissing is.”
“Did we, uh, come at a bad time?” Haj asked. Then their grin went full gremlin, their sharp teeth glinting at her. “Did he?”
Koana made a strangled sort of sound at the same time Iojrao gasped, both their faces flushing scarlet.
“Haj!”
“Whaaaaaat?” They wiggled their eyebrows at the green Miqo’te, making him squirm uncomfortably. It would have been adorable under different circumstances. “It’s a fair question.”
“Blahaj,” Zaya said evenly, “there are children present.” The tall Xaela woman swept past them, shaking her head as she carried her burdens into the kitchen.
At that, Blahaj conceded, giggling to themself. “It’s me,” they said. “I’m children.”
“You just act like it,” Rai said with a laugh. He followed Zaya into the kitchen, glancing back at Ioj as he did. His sea-green eyes glittered with delight as they flickered to Koana and back. “So, uh, who’s your friend, sis?”
Mortified, Iojrao scrubbed a hand through her hair and sighed. She’d much rather dive off the cabin balcony than do introductions, but there seemed no way around it now.
“Everyone, meet Koana. Koana, this is Zaya, Erden, and Rai. You already know Haj.” She sighed again. “Unfortunately.”
Tucking the bacon under their arm, Blahaj waved. Their delighted “Hello, Koana,” was cheerful enough, but the man went rigid under their attention. “Are you staying for breakfast? It's the most important meal, and today is a biiiiiiig day!” The last was mostly directed at Ioj, who only groaned in response.
“Tempting as that is,” said Koana—Iojrao found the anxious tremble that made his vowels stutter utterly charming—”there is much to do, yet. And,” he turned to Ioj, his smile sheepish, “I have taken up enough of your morning. Another time, perhaps.”
“There’s still plenty of morning left,” she said, marveling at her own boldness. A younger Iojrao would have jumped right out the window the moment the family had returned. Now, even after being caught in such a compromising position (although certainly not her worst), she was still asking him to stick around.
Koana flushed again, dropping his eyes and voice as he smiled at the floor. “You wish me to stay?”
“Yes,” she answered, just as softly. Then, reluctantly, “But… you should go. I'm sure your sister is waiting for you.”
“Then, if I may…”
He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and pressed the gentlest kiss upon it. A ghost of a kiss, really.
“I will see you at the ascension ceremony,” he said, as if he had no idea the havoc he'd unleashed upon her. Halone have mercy, she was sure her whole body was red. Her stomach was doing more cartwheels at that brief touch than when she’d been pressed against the wall moments ago. “You will pass on the message before then?”
“I-I will.”
“For what it is worth,” said Koana, softly enough that she might have imagined it, “I do hope you'll stay.” He let go of her hand and smiled. “Goodbye, Iojrao.”
Koana inclined his head, then turned to the others gathered in the kitchen. There he faltered, opting for a quick half-bow and then all but fleeing from the cabin. Iojrao closed the door after him.
“Well,” said Rainen, breaking the sudden silence, “he seemed nice.”
If Rhalgr struck her down right that moment, she would have been eternally grateful.
Erden sighed, expression unimpressed. “Really, Ioj?”
“Oh, don't you lecture me,” she grumbled. “It's not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” Haj asked, still wearing that shit-eating grin. “Is that why you wanted the cabin to yourself?”
“What? No!”
She turned to Zaya for support. But beneath the fringe of her dark hair, Zaya was grinning ear to ear as she unloaded their grocery haul.
“So these are the sorts of adventures you get up to when we’re not around,” Zaya teased.
“I didn't— It's not like I planned—” This was pointless; she would find no sanctuary here. “Ugh, never mind. Forget about that.” She turned to her partner-in-crime, schooling her expression into something as close to composure as she could manage. “Haj, we need to talk.”
She'd only taken her eyes off them for a few seconds, but Blahaj was already waist-deep in one of the woven baskets, tiny feet kicking in the air as they fished for something at the bottom. “What,” came the muffled reply, “about you smooching the Second Promise? Ioj, I love you. I don’t care who you’re banging—”
Oh, gods .
“Blahaj!”
“What?” Finding what they were after, they righted themself with a wiggle and turned to her, apple in hand. “I don’t! We’re all adults, here—well, besides your babiest brother—and you’re my best friend. Unless he hurts you—and you don’t want him to,” they added with a dark giggle, “we’re good. Nothing to talk about. Surprised it didn’t happen sooner, actually.” They paused. “Fuck, I think I owe Alisaie money.”
“You were betting about—”
Actually, she would have done the same, in Alisaie's shoes. Some part of her that wasn’t horrified was just a little bit proud.
Iojrao took a deep breath.
“I’m not talking about Koana,” she said, more calm than she felt. “I’m talking about Wuk Lamat.”
Haj’s eyes went wide. “Are you smooching both Promises?”
“ No! ” The last of her patience took flight. “Shut up and listen or I’ll toss you in the ocean!”
“It’s where I belong anyway!” Haj sighed, hopping onto the counter so they could look her in the eyes better and swing their legs over the side. “Fine, sorry ,” they said. The crunch of their apple made the apology a little less sincere, but Iojrao accepted it anyway. “I’m listening. What about Wuk Lamat?”
Well. No way to soften the blow; better to come right out with it.
“She wants us to be on her council.” Haj choked on their apple. “After she becomes Dawnservant.”
“And—and stay here?” Blahaj wheezed. Zaya thumped them on the back with a practiced thwap of her tail, and Haj took a moment to catch their breath. They set the apple aside. “Is that why Koana was here?”
Iojrao nodded. “He said she’s going to ask us again after the ceremony, but wanted to give us some time to consider it.”
“What did you say?” That was Erden again, brows drawn in concern. It had taken many years of coaxing to get him comfortable enough to leave home on a temporary basis; staying in Tural indefinitely wasn’t an option. Neither was leaving her behind.
“I… didn’t,” Ioj answered. “I think he could tell I wasn’t sure. And that I’d need to discuss it with Haj. He didn’t press the issue.”
No, said her stupid brain, just you. Against the wall. In front of your family.
Focus, Ioj.
“Are you considering it?” asked Rainen.
When Iojrao didn’t answer immediately, Haj cocked their head and gave her a weighing stare.
“We’re not going to say yes , are we? You know I don't do politics! No one should ever ask me for administrative advice ever. Think of all the stuffy meetings, the important people to impress! No,” they said, scrunching their nose in disgust. “No way. I love Wuk Lamat, but that's a no from me. She'll understand.”
Iojrao felt much the same way. There was a difference between helping someone with their rite os succession and… being a politician. The image of a certain overworked blue-clad Elezen came to mind, suddenly, and the dread she felt at suffering a similar fate—even for Wuk Lamat; even for the greater good—made her decision for her.
She was fond of Wuk Lamat (and surely they were friends for life, after such a journey together). She even loved Tural: its high mountains, lush jungles; its food, its music, its people. She was more comfortable here than anywhere else she'd ever been. She might even stay a while; a few more months, another year.
But forever?
‘For what it's worth, I do hope you’ll accept.’
Already she could smell the batter, the smokey scent of the cookfire heating Zaya's favorite pan. But Iojrao no longer had much of an appetite.
“Yes,” she agreed, forcing a smile. “She will understand.”