Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(93)

Ziha hurried forward to prostrate herself at her mother’s feet, arms outstretched. Nuuma looked down at her, expression unreadable, until her lip curled slightly in what was clearly distaste. She had paused with her bowl halfway to her mouth when they came in, but now she began to eat again. The room was silent save the sound of slow slurping.

The moment stretched.

The girl commander on the floor. The matron noisily draining her soup bowl.

Xiala tried to catch Iktan’s attention, but xir face was lost in the folds of xir cowl, only the tip of xir narrow nose visible.

More seconds passed, and still Ziha didn’t rise.

And still Nuuma ate.

Xiala’s nerves were starting to itch, worse even than the claustrophobic tickle at her back. Cruel mother, humiliated daughter, no one intervening. It was all a bit too familiar.

She exhaled, telling herself she would likely regret what came next, but it couldn’t be any worse than standing there watching Ziha debase herself for someone who clearly enjoyed seeing her suffer. She channeled some of the bravado she employed as a sea captain, squared her shoulders, and sauntered over to the table. She pulled out the side bench. It groaned and scraped across the floor. She swung a leg over and dropped her weight, equally loud.

Xiala banged a hand against the table. Heads swiveled, and the Shield shifted their attention to her. Nuuma lowered her bowl, stone eyes glowing like hot ash.

Nervous sweat dampened Xiala’s collar, but her righteous outrage overwhelmed any fear. She reached for her Song, a precaution, but as before, it felt as if someone had built a fence between her and her power. Seven hells, what was she doing provoking this woman? She caught a glimpse of the back of Ziha’s head, face still kissing the ground, and that was all the reminder she needed.

“Soup!” Xiala shouted. “Where can I get some damned soup?”

One of the Shield looked like he would speak, but Nuuma lifted a hand to stop him, her expression curious.

Iktan slid onto the bench beside Xiala, and she caught the edge of xir smile. “I think I’d like some soup, too,” xe said, voice mild.

Xiala grinned.

“Get up, Ziha.” Xiala kept her voice casual. “We’re ordering soup for you, too.”

Nuuma glanced to her side, and Xiala spotted a door there. Someone must have been waiting just outside, watching for the matron’s signal, because a server came forward immediately, bearing a pot that leaked a fragrant steam. Another followed with bowls and yet another with flatbread. Xiala helped herself, and Iktan after her, and finally, Mother waters! Ziha pushed herself up and came to sit across from them. She was as shaky as a kitten, but at least she was off the damned floor.

Nuuma clapped. A long, slow strike of palm against palm that echoed through the room. Three times, four, five, until she had all eyes on her. Ziha was trembling. Skies, Xiala thought. What has the woman done to make her daughter fear her so?

“Charming,” the matron said, voice thick with scorn. “Is that what you’ve been doing in my absence, Ziha? Imagining silly little ways to defy your mother?”

Xiala cleared her throat loudly. She grabbed her bowl and drank, the sound of her slurping loud and rude. She slammed the empty bowl down and forced herself to belch before grinning at the matron.

“And who are you?” the woman asked.

“Someone who hates a bully.”

Nuuma stared a moment longer. “Get her out.”

“A moment, Nuuma.” Iktan rose to hold off the Shield who were already moving. “She is of value. A friend of the Odo Sedoh.”

“I don’t care who she is. She’s disrespectful to her betters. I should have her beaten. Perhaps that would teach her manners.”

“Doubtful.” Iktan cleared xir throat. “The fact remains she is beneficial to our plans. I suggest you hear me out before you make any rash decisions. If you still find her of no use, you can have her beaten afterward.”

“Iktan,” Xiala growled under her breath.

“No, you’ve made your point, Xiala. Unsubtly, I might add, but I understand. Your heart means well. But that’s enough.” Xe looked toward Nuuma. “Tell us why you’ve come and what you know.”

Nuuma motioned for the Shield to stand down and then for the servants to remove the soup and bowls. Once everything was cleared, the matron commanded her Shield to guard the doors from the outside. Satisfied that they were safe from prying ears, she spoke.

“Something’s happened in Tova. Something that forces us to accelerate our plans and makes the city unsafe for Golden Eagle.”

“They know of your treachery?” Iktan asked.

Irritation pulsed across her face. “The other matrons know that Golden Eagle sought to influence the Watchers, but to what extent I cannot say. And whether it matters with the Watchers dead is unclear, too. What is clear is that they side with Carrion Crow to decide the fate of the city.”

“So it is war.” Iktan’s voice was soft with emotion. Regret? Excitement? Xiala could not be sure what.

“War, yes, and quickly, before they can raise an army to control the Eastern districts.”

“The Eastern districts?”

“Coyote’s Maw have declared themselves a clan again.”

Ziha raised her head. “Again?”

“They were a clan before the War of the Spear, but when the Watchers were established in Tova, they were stripped of their status and named clanless as punishment for their cowardice.”