Insinuations
Requiem of the Moth S03 C04
Content warnings1
“How do I look?” Usira asks.
Zhiva stares back at him. “Apologies, I do not understand.”
Shaking his head, he wills himself to stop fiddling with his hair, his earrings. For the first time, he’s dolled up in pristine white clan robes, his hair arranged into an artful bun instead of the usual braid, fingernail-sized amethyst pendants dangling from his ears and Yun’s amethyst ring on his finger. His sleeves are embroidered in moth catcher lavender—a detail that will be altered out after the bonding ceremony, the tailor explained.
For now, he lingers in the space between Isvalri and Noe, neither one nor the other. He can’t wait any longer to forge connections though and so he allows Zhiva to lead him to the Pai mansion. More modest in size, it nevertheless features delicately sculpted sills, lintels and wrought iron doors. The patterns of waves and flames intertwining are so mesmerising, Usira nearly forgets his nerves. Nearly.
At the door, they’re greeted by a fresh-faced servant. Her bow is too deep but Usira swallows his protest, merely following her through corridors into a softly illuminated living space. Several white figures are already reclining on cushions, rugs, and low daybeds.
“My ladies and lords, Isvalri Usira, the esteemed bonded-to-be of honourable Vessi Noe Yun, has arrived.” Everyone rises at the announcement. The servant bows again and disappears.
The first to approach is a young woman whose snow-pale hair falls in artful curls over her shoulders, adorned with midnight-blue gems and her nails painted the same colour. Her sapphire eyes are sharp but not hostile. “Usira, welcome. I am honoured that you are gracing this humble salon with your presence.”
Even if he isn’t well-versed in it himself, Usira has heard enough smooth talk to know she’s delighted that he has accepted her invitation first. Word travels fast in the clan quarter. Of course, she can’t know that he isn’t only socialising. Today is for scouting, staking out the territory, observing his prey. He gives a modest bow, barely more than a nod—certainly more shallow than he would’ve bowed as a moth catcher. “The honour is mine. I have heard much about your gatherings and hope to learn more about fine arts too.”
Polite nothings, with a grain of truth mixed in. His research has revealed that her salons are immensely popular for connecting painters, sculptors, writers, and other artists with wealthy patrons. Pai Rilan stands at the centre of the capital’s art scene. Someone as social and well-connected as her provides a perfect gateway into clan society.
Of course, Usira is counting on the clans being curious about him too. Some guests throw glances at Zhiva until he sends her out with a nod.
Rilan leads him around the room for introductions. When everyone has settled once again with rosehip tea and candied snacks, she asks: “You hope to learn more about fine arts? I believe everyone gathered here is knowledgeable in one field or another. Is there anything in particular that you are drawn to?”
Usira smiles. “Sadly, I don’t presume to know much about art. I wouldn’t know where to start but I’m eager to learn. You see, I have often thought moths beautiful too, their natural beauty but also how artfully they are arranged for… our consumption.” Not your consumption. I belong to this crowd now. I’m eating at their table.
Part of him still can’t believe it.
“Moths beautiful? Some might show pretty colours, it is true, but the living ones are simply repulsive. The way they cling to walls and flutter to the light…” The speaker shudders, perhaps exaggerating. It’s Shinzi, introduced by Rilan as a famous painter. If he is patronised by the Pai, Usira can’t afford to anger him. The words of protest lodge in his throat.
“Tell us, Usira,” someone else is saying, a girl younger than him who shares Rilan’s snowy hair and round-cheeked features, although her eyes are a darker blue. If memory serves, her name is Rileevi. “In your time as moth hunter, have you ventured far outside the city?”
She means to ask how close he’s been to the surface. “I have come as far as the Zillia Downs on many expeditions but rarely farther.”
“Your eyesight has not suffered?” she asks. He detects nothing but genuine curiosity in her voice.
Before he can reply, Shinzi interjects. “They say that too much sunlight can mess with someone’s head too. Those who venture above might carry damage in their bodies that we cannot detect.”
Patronised by the Pai or not, Usira is starting to dislike the painter. “As a matter of fact, my eyesight is fine. Thank you for your concern,” he says to the girl. “I have never heard of any other damage caused by sunlight. Of course, I am neither a physician nor a Silvedhri. They know much more about the surface and possible effects of sunlight than moth catchers do.”
“You have had dealings with the Silvedhri?” Rilan asks. She is sipping from her cup but in her eyes is a spark of interest.
“We hire them as guides for our work on the Downs and other locations close to the surface.”
“Have you not found them crude or strange? They are different from us. Venturing to the surface is one thing but travelling in the light for yarns on end? It should be deadly.” This from a male clan member sitting next to Shinzi.
“I have not,” Usira retorts, “although I cannot say what techniques they use to withstand the sun.”
“Foreign blood,” someone murmurs into the tense silence. “Primitive nomads.”
“To join us here… The light, the heat clings to him too.”
“And what does it say about those beating down primitive nomads that they cannot come up with more stimulating conversation topics? This is quite enough.” Rilan stands and gestures towards a veiled canvas. Usira hasn’t noticed it propped up next to the fireplace until she draws attention to it. “Have we not gathered today to admire this piece that has recently come into my collection? It is my pleasure to present a recently discovered piece by an old master, provocative oil painter Yan Sivai. Let us unveil it now so your curiosity can be sated.”
Usira leans forward to gaze at the painting. As the evening moves on, he can’t shake the feeling that Rilan saved his face. Shinzi and his clan member friend were two words away from lumping him in with foreign blood and primitive. They behave for the rest of the day, perhaps kept in check by Rilan’s presence.
When the gathering breaks up, Usira is the last to leave. At the door, Rilan clasps his hands. He starts—in his experience, clan members refrain from casual touching.
“I must apologise for Shinzi and Ezen. I try to reign in their tendency to be crude whenever I can.”
“It is no matter,” Usira says, then hesitates. It’s much too early to hint at the book he’s been asked to find. However friendly Rilan was today, she’s still a stranger—and bound by social rules and customs he is only starting to grasp.
To his surprise, she breaks the silence first. “Usira, forgive me for offering unbidden advice but do not despair. You may be an outsider now but I have noticed your intelligence and will to learn. If you keep at it, you will not stay on the outside for the rest of your yarns.”
“Truly?”
She smiles. “Truly. And I will be of assistance to you as much as I can.”
He smiles too. “You have my gratitude, Rilan. I shall thank the Deep for making your acquaintance today.”
When Usira enters the Noe quarters, Yun is lounging on the sofa by the fireplace, empty dinner plates on the side table and a cup of tea in his hand. “Welcome home, dearest,” he drawls.
“I don’t know what’s worse, your timing or your jokes.” Groaning, Usira lowers himself onto a nest of cushions. He’s been sitting down, sipping tea and feasting on delicacies, and yet he feels as exhausted as if he had swum through frigid Lanvin Lake. Attentive as ever, Zhiva immediately serves hot fish broth.
Yun watches him devour the food. “I thought you wanted to see me. Here I am.”
Usira swallows. “I want to see you when I have time and energy to question you about everything I’m stepping into. The clans. Society. Politics. Since you kept evading me, I was forced to look for answers elsewhere. At the moment, I just want to eat and sleep.”
“I wasn’t evading you.” Yun sighs. “I had to take care of urgent matters. Did you find the answers you were looking for?”
I’m looking for a banned book so I can join this secret organisation working to take power from the clans and give it to the people. No, I haven’t found any answers yet. Usira bites his tongue. After draining his bowl, he asks: “What could be more urgent than educating your future bonded?”
Irritation flares in Yun’s eyes. “Here’s a lesson: We don’t give out anything for free. You tell me about your day and I’ll tell you about what I’ve been doing since I proposed.”
Usira steals a glance at Yun. The firelight is dancing in his orange eyes, turning them to molten heat. Tonight, too, he keeps his face angled away, hiding his scarred cheek. Something about his profile tugs at Usira and he can’t help but soften. “Alright.” He recounts the gathering at the Pai mansion, the discussion of fine arts, the bullying, Rilan’s kindness.
When he ends, Yun’s eyes flash. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Artists like to overreach and conveniently forget that they stay commoners, no matter how highly their art is valued. You will rise above the likes of him soon enough. It’s only jealousy speaking with his voice.” Before Usira can protest that he doesn’t plan on abandoning his roots, Yun continues. “Rilan, on the other hand… She’s one to watch.”
“Can I trust her?”
Yun hums. “I don’t know her personally but judging from her reputation, yes. They say she’s unusually sincere. Connected to half the clans too.”
Is Yun praising him for reaching out to Pai Rilan? Usira doesn’t dare believe it. Ignoring the strange feeling in his stomach, he hands the empty bowl to Zhiva before returning his full attention to Yun. “Your turn.”
Yun blinks at the fire. “I was…”
“No. Look at me.” That’s what has been bothering him: Ever since the announcement, Yun has refused to look Usira in the face. Usira, however, is sick of secrets and excuses. Well, if he wants to change their relationship, he should lead by example. “We are to be bonded. I might struggle and blunder, in fact I’m sure I will, but I am grateful to you for calling me back. By the Moth, I didn’t want to go into exile. I’d rather be called outsider and primitive than live far from my family, my people. I’m here only thanks to you. I’m willing to work hard to be who you need me to be. I’ll do everything so you don’t have to regret taking me in.”
All through his speech, Yun hasn’t moved. Now he faces Usira, baring his face to the flickering firelight. “I do not regret taking you in. Never.” He sighs, pressing his eyes shut for a beat. “I said I was busy, didn’t I? I thought you’d be fine on your own for a while but I can tell now I was mistaken.”
“I am fine on my own.” Usira considers. “I will be.”
Yun’s mouth twitches, a shadow of his old sardonic grin. “Here’s a revelation for you: I was not planning on bonding myself so soon. I’m not used to sharing… anything. I will try though.”
Will you try? To make it work? The question Usira couldn’t answer on the day of the proposal. “Let’s try together.” And because they’ve taken the first step, because he’s feeling invigorated, he lifts his hand.
Yun, however, turns away again. No. Not yet, perhaps. Wondering, Usira touches his hair instead and is enchanted when Yun doesn’t shy away. His hair is soft and fragrant, carrying memories of their first night together.
Author Notes
In an odd plot twist, I’ve almost finished writing season 3! There’s one last scene waiting to be written, and of course all the usual pre-release editing. The good news for you is that I’ll be able to reliably publish one chapter every two weeks or so until it’s all out there!
Compared to how I wrote previous seasons, this process suits me much better. It’s easier to keep track of everything that’s happening at the same time, to plan and foreshadow later events. If you read season 2 in one go, you will notice some inconsistencies that stem from me trying and failing to juggle everything, struggling to publish the next chapter in time. Lesson learned.
I’m still thinking about content strategy for this newsletter. In terms of views and engagement, the fiction seems to do so much worse than the nonfiction, especially now that I’m writing more about my Japan adventures. It seems to be dragging down the stats but I also don’t want to stop publishing fiction. What to do?
I don’t know. Don’t look at me, I don’t have any answers! I’m just trying to hold the balance between what I want to write vs. what gets attention, all the while trying to “grow” this little corner that I built two years ago—a balancing act if there ever was one. Writers, how do you do it?
Classism, light bullying