The forest, on the other hand, did look familiar. They stepped through the door into the middle of trees, and the footpath that wound around their roots resolved itself, in the distance, into a more carefully laid path of interlocking stone. The small dragon hissed in her ear; when she failed to look at him, she felt his teeth on her left lobe. She didn’t even curse under her breath; Barrani hearing was too good. She hoped that she wasn’t going to be escorted to the High Lord with blood trailing down her neck.
When they got out of here—if they did, in one piece—they were going to have a long chat.
The path opened up into a much larger circle, girded by slightly curved benches, most of which were occupied. The center of the circle itself was also occupied, and as Kaylin passed between two of the outermost benches, Barrani heads swiveled in her direction. She weathered the inspection, missing her uniform.
Lord Darrowelm and his escort did not stop moving until they’d passed through most of the crowd; when they did, the two thrones of the High Court came into view. They were both occupied.
The Barrani escort immediately sank to one knee; only Darrowelm and Teela were left standing. They bowed. Kaylin hesitated for a heartbeat before she bowed as well, remembering that she was a Lord of the High Court, mortal or no.
The High Lord bid them rise.
“Lord An’Teela. Lord Kaylin.”
“High Lord.” Kaylin glanced to his left. The Consort sat beside him, the platinum of her hair trailing down her shoulders, where some of it spilled into her lap. She wore a simple pale gown, and her feet were bare. Her eyes, however, were a cold blue, and when Kaylin met them, she offered no obvious acknowledgment.
Clearly, she was still angry.
“Have you come to the High Halls at the behest of the Halls of Law?” the High Lord asked.
“No, High Lord.”
He waited. Fumbling with High Barrani, she said, “I am here by the grace of my kyuthe.” Teela gave her no hints, in part because Kaylin didn’t dare to look away from the High Lord to receive them. “We are to journey to the West March together, four days hence.”
“So I have been told. Why do you seek the West March at this time, Lord Kaylin?”
“I wish to witness the recitation of the regalia.” Had she had any idea she would have to stand in front of the High Lord like this, she would have practiced the making of what now felt like totally feeble excuses.
“Ah. Why?”
Because Lord Nightshade wants me to hear them. The words didn’t leave her lips and not for lack of trying. Her jaw locked in place; for one long moment it was all she could do to breathe. She felt Nightshade’s presence like a literal weight against her chest.
The High Lord noticed, of course; he said nothing, but his eyes, which weren’t very green to begin with, shaded into blue.
“I’ve—I’ve heard the story the Dragons tell the Leontines,” she offered instead—when she could speak. “I’ve seen it; I’ve touched it. It didn’t change or affect me, because I’m not Leontine. I’ve been told the regalia is a—a story told to Barrani, but it’s supposed to be similar in some fashion. And the Lords of the High Court listen to that story at least once.”
His eyes remained blue. “Very well. I will not command otherwise; you are correct in your assumption. I admit I am curious to see what effect, if any, such recitation will have; you are, in theory, mortal.”
She bowed, mostly to hide her expression; he bid her rise, probably because he knew.
“We have not yet finished our discussion, Lord Kaylin. Come, approach me.”
She glanced at Teela; Teela didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t move her head at all.
Kaylin approached the throne. The Consort turned toward her, her eyes still the same frigid blue.
“We have heard that you suffered the loss of your home in the City.”
Sarcasm, her early and best defense mechanism, rolled over and exposed its throat under the Consort’s gaze. She swallowed and nodded. “It’s true.”
“Is it also true that you offered the hospitality of that home to a Dragon?”
Gods damn it. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she said, trying to force exasperation out of her tone, “she’s a Dragon. She wanted to stay in my home. I am a Lord of the High Court, but I am not Barrani. I had no safe way of refusing her.”
“Nor any safe way of accepting her presence, either.”
She failed to point out that the Arcane bomb had been designed—and probably thrown—by a Barrani Lord of the High Court in which she was now being interrogated, and that took effort.
“Where is the Dragon now residing?”
“In the Imperial Palace.”
“And you?”
“In the Imperial Palace.”
“I see. Would you not consider making the High Halls your home? You are a Lord of the Court.”
“I don’t intend for the Imperial Palace to be my permanent home,” she replied, evading the question.
After a long pause, he nodded. His eyes were a darker shade of blue. “Very well.”
She started to retreat, and the Consort rose from her throne. “Lord Kaylin,” she said in a Winter voice.
“Lady.”
“What are you wearing across your shoulders?”
“A small, winged lizard.”
The Consort approached, and the little dragon lifted its translucent neck, raising its head so that it rested against Kaylin’s left cheek. She glanced at it and saw that it was, opalescent eyes wide, watching the Consort—and only the Consort. “I have never seen a like creature.” Her eyes were indigo. The dragon hissed; Kaylin felt its wings lift part of her hair as they rose. She said nothing, but when the Consort lifted a hand, she took an involuntary step back.
The Consort then lowered her hand. “Where did you come by such an exotic pet?”
The hells, Kaylin thought, could not be worse than this. Any answer she considered sounded flippant or evasive, but she was certain silence would be worse. She did not want this woman to be any angrier at her than she already was. Swallowing and hating the anger and the argument that had led to it, she said, “From an egg born to mortal parents during the worst of the chaos that occurred before the Norannir arrived in our world.”
The Consort’s eyes narrowed. “It was born during the magical upheaval in the City.”
Kaylin nodded.
“And it hatched when the portal opened?”
The Consort knew. She knew what Teela suspected. She knew what the old stories said. And why wouldn’t she? She was a Barrani High Lord, the mother of her race—a race that gathered power as if it were air or food. “No.”
“No?”
“No. It remained unhatched until my home was destroyed.”
“Do you understand what it is that you have?”
Kaylin swallowed. “I understand what some people think it is.”
“And did you then make your choice to accept the threat of that portal and the Devourer because you wished to obtain it?” Oh, her voice was cold. There was no magic in her words; if there had been, Kaylin was certain she’d be dead—and in so many small pieces they wouldn’t be able to bury her. “Is that why you refused my request?”
Kaylin, however, was beginning to find the anger that lurked beneath her fear of offending the Lady any further. “I refused your request,” she said, “because thousands of people would have died if the portal hadn’t opened.”
She heard Teela’s sharp breath; it was a warning.
“And I was right. The Devourer did not destroy the world, and thousands of people who would have starved, or worse, are now alive in the fief of Tiamaris.” She might as well have been speaking to stone. “I had no idea what would hatch from the egg—if the egg even hatched at all—and even if I had, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to risk an entire City—”
“An entire world.”
“An entire world, then. I had nothing to gain.”
One pale brow rose. “I believe there are some dozen members of the Court in which you now stand who would disagree with that.”
“Yes. And they’re all Arcanists. I’m not. If this is, indeed, a familiar, how does it help me?” The contrary creature began to rub the side of her face with the side of his.
Teela cleared her throat. Kaylin turned to look at her; her eyes were not a comforting color. “Lady,” she said.
The Consort lifted one pale, perfect hand. “I will hear your words at a later time, Lord An’Teela,” she said coolly. “At the moment, I am interested in Lord Kaylin’s rather colloquial explanation. You claim that the egg itself did not hatch until the assassination attempt?”
“Yes.”
“And at that time?”
“An Arcane bomb destroyed my apartment. The egg hatched when the bomb went off. The small dragon may have afforded us some protection.”
The Consort’s lips thinned. She turned to the High Lord and tendered him a very low bow. “My Lord,” she said quietly, “I would speak with Lord Kaylin in a more private place.”
The shape of his eyes shifted ever so slightly; it meant he was as surprised as Kaylin by the request. It certainly didn’t appear to be made with any affection or warmth. After a pause, he nodded. Kaylin wasn’t certain how she felt about it herself, but as usual when surrounded by Immortals, her certainty—or lack thereof—didn’t matter.
The Consort turned and walked toward the back of her throne. She didn’t turn to see whether or not Kaylin followed; Kaylin did. She knew where the Consort was leading her.
* * *
There were no obvious guards around the perimeter of the fountain. It was, aside from one Hawk and one Barrani Lord, deserted. Kaylin met the Consort’s blue, blue gaze as they stood in a tense and awkward silence.
It was the Consort who broke it. “You have not returned to Court since the portal opened—and closed.”
It wasn’t what Kaylin had expected. “No.”
“Why?”
Kaylin hated these types of questions. She hated the test inherent in their nature. But they were alone here. The Consort, entirely for reasons of her own, had conceded that much. “I thought you’d still be angry.”
“I am.” She waited. When Kaylin failed to find more words, she turned again. “I am not the High Lord,” she said.
Since this was more or less obvious, Kaylin nodded.
“Among my kin, it is always wisest to keep those disinclined toward you within your view. Especially when they are people of power. Yet you come only now, and I am certain without the intervention of Lord Darrowelm, you would not be in Court at all. I ask again, why? Is my anger considered so slight, and the threat it poses so insignificant, that you feel the exercise of due caution beneath you?”
If Kaylin’s jaw had not been attached, it would have fallen off. It did drop open and hang there unnoticed for a minute, anyway. She took a step forward and stopped; the Consort’s eyes were still the wrong shade of blue. “No—no that’s not why—” She drew a breath, lifting her hands to disentangle the Dragon’s wings from hair that would never be as obliging as the Consort’s.
“Among my kin,” she said, “we avoid angry people. Anger is—anger. Most times it’s not even our fault. But when someone with too much power is angry, everyone suffers. I learned that in the fiefs. I was so far beneath the fieflord I could have been a cockroach. Didn’t matter. If the fieflord was angry and I was in reach, I suffered.”
“And I am now to be compared to an Outcaste or a mortal?”
Ignoring that because it wasn’t what she’d intended, although it was what she’d achieved, Kaylin rushed on. “This time, it was my fault. It was,” she continued, “but I don’t—and can’t—regret it. I took a risk that you would never have taken. Maybe if I had—” She shook her head again. “I couldn’t come here without some sort of apology. And I can’t apologize.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because I was right.”
“And I, wrong?”
Careful, Kaylin. “You were right about the risk. You were right about the possible consequences. But so was I—and in the end, what counts for me is that the world is still here and the People are alive. Not more, not less.” As she spoke, her shoulders fell and her chin rose. “You’re the only Barrani at Court, outside of Lord Teela—with the exception of the Lord of the West March—that I was happy to see. You were also the only one who was happy to see me. I knew I’d broken that. I didn’t want to—”
“Accept it?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I wanted it to be entirely your fault.”
The Consort smiled; it was not a warm expression. “Very well, Private Neya. I am angry. And I am of my kin; the fact that you were proved materially correct does not ease the anger—it deepens it. But the majority of our argument has happened beyond the prying ears and eyes of the High Court; if you intended my humiliation, you did not plan with care.”
“I never wanted that. I don’t want it now.”
“What do you want, then?”
“I want you to stop being angry. At me. I don’t care if you’re angry at the rest of the Court for the next several centuries.”
“You are so guileless,” the Consort replied. But her eyes were a paler shade of blue. It wasn’t a blue that would become green anytime soon. “I will not ask you of your Bellusdeo.”
“I’m not aware I mentioned her name.”
“You did not. But it was, of course, known to us. She is not what the Dragons have become, over the centuries.”
“No.”
“Are you fond of her?”
The question surprised Kaylin. “Does it matter? She’s a Dragon. I’m a private.”
At this, the Consort chuckled. Kaylin missed the sound of her laughter. “No, I don’t suppose it does.”
“I want to strangle her half of every day, if that helps.”
“Oddly enough, it does; I can’t imagine why. Did you truly not understand the nature of the creature you now possess?”
“I didn’t. I don’t now. I kept the egg because it was—it was a baby, even if it was a total anomaly. I wasn’t certain it would ever hatch. He’s taken to living on my shoulder. He hisses a lot. Sometimes he bites my ear. I’d never even heard the term ‘familiar’ until Bellusdeo mentioned it.” She hesitated and then added, “But…I like him.”
“He is yours. Yours or not, he is a danger to you, if I am not mistaken.”
“He can stand in line.” The dragon nibbled on her ear with impeccable timing.
“Will you take him with you when you journey to the West March?”
Kaylin nodded.
“Very well. I believe I will join the pilgrims who venture to the West March this year.”
Chapter 9
Kaylin’s jaw dropped. It closed more quickly this second time. “Y-you’re going to the West March?”
“Yes. Although it is not mandatory for me, I have not traveled to the West March since the Leofswuld. It will be the first time that I have set foot in those ancient forests as the Keeper of the Lake, and such a journey, given the change in my station, is almost mandatory.”
“Is the High Lord—”
“The High Lord is not of the opinion that such travel on my part is wise at the moment. He has not, however, forbidden it; I will be under the protection of my brother, after all.”
“Only when you get there.”
“The recent occurrences have made the enterprise more fraught, I will admit. The Emperor was…ill pleased…with the turn of events.”
“Is the Arcanist the Emperor is looking for even here?”
“He is not, as you surmise, within the High Halls. Whatever else you may think of us, we are not so unwise as to attempt the assassination of any Dragon in such a fashion. I will not lie; it is considered an evil and a necessity to bow to the rule of a Dragon, no matter how theoretical that rule might be. Should the Emperor attempt to retaliate, we are not without power here; the High Halls
would withstand the fury of the Dragon Court for far, far longer than the Imperial Palace.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He?”
“The suspect.”
“I do not know if you will believe me, Lord Kaylin, but no, we do not. If we did, he would be—possibly regrettably—dead. An act of that political scope and magnitude is never wisely undertaken without the direct permission or at least tacit consent of the High Lord. No such consent was given, not even obliquely. There will be no peace between the two Immortal Courts while the assassin is at large.” She glanced once again at the fountain. “The one opportunity that arose from the threat of the Devourer—the meeting of the Lords of the two Courts—might yet be saved.” She turned. “You will, no doubt, hear of this, given your oath of allegiance.”
“I don’t think you understand what the rank Private entails.”
“Perhaps not. The High Lord has made clear to the Emperor that the matter of the renegade is not a matter for the Caste Court, in his opinion; as the action was taken with no reference to, and no respect for, the Lord of that Caste Court, he is willing—barely—to wash his hands of the affair.” She turned back, her smile slender. Kaylin, a private, understood exactly what this meant: the Barrani Caste Court would allow the Imperial Courts to prosecute the would-be assassin as if he were a common, mortal criminal. It was an almost historical decision, and Kaylin had no doubt at all that it would be an extremely unpopular one for the High Lord.
“Do you agree with his decision?”
One pale brow rose. “He is my Lord,” was the cool reply. “I find you difficult. I at first thought to treat you with the open affection one reserves for a very intelligent, very loyal pet. They are qualities I prize, and loyalty is in short supply among my kin; it is not absent, but it is always qualified. You are not, it is clear, obedient, and I do not hold the leash to your loyalty.
“But I find it difficult to ostracize you. I am uncertain why. Perhaps there is a deeper reason that some of my people choose to serve your Hawks. I am angry still. But to my surprise, I can see a time in which that anger might at last be laid to rest in a way that does not involve your unpleasant and untimely demise.” She smiled. It was a cutting, edged smile very like the ones that occupied Teela’s face when she was angry. “At the very least, if I have not—yet—chosen to end your life, I refuse to allow any of my kin to forever deprive me of my prerogative to do so.
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