“All right,” she told the room. “I’ll wear it.”
* * *
The dress came with a cape. The cape was mostly fabric, on the other hand. The neckline would hide Sanabalis’s chain; the holes were diamond in shape and started at the shoulders, ending at the wrists in a chain of exposed skin. This was on the outside of her arms; the bottoms were long, trailing swathes of green. The skirt was loose enough for a full, fast stride.
Kaylin disliked skirts for a number of reasons. On the other hand, any weapon she could carry here was purely for show and a modicum of comfort.
“Kaylin?”
She glanced up at Severn.
“There are boots, as well.”
There were. They were the same color as the dress. She bent at the knees, lifted one, and whistled. They were very supple—even soft. Carrying them into the room’s brighter light, she examined them carefully. They were flat, the heels a stiff leather. They looked, on first inspection, like boots that would be far, far more comfortable than the ones she’d been wearing, but they would stand out like a sore thumb if she happened to be in any other clothing.
They fit her feet. She hadn’t, at this point, expected they wouldn’t. And they were so comfortable it almost felt as though she wasn’t wearing boots at all. “These,” she said, “are keepers. I hope.” Eyes rounding, she turned to Severn. “None of this stuff disappears when I leave the way station, does it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a room be this critical of my clothing before.”
The small dragon didn’t seem to mind the clothing, which was good, given his reaction to the things he did mind.
“Breakfast?” she asked when she’d finished with the boots’ laces.
He nodded and offered her an arm.
* * *
Kaylin regretted her decision to accept the guidance of a mute closet the minute she entered the great hall. The floor helpfully lit the way beneath their feet, so reaching the great hall itself took only a handful of minutes, but as they passed beneath the last arch, the general din of Barrani conversation took a distinct dive. Silence spread in a widening circle, as if Kaylin were the rock dropped into a still pond.
Her hand tensed where it lay across Severn’s lifted arm. “This was not a good idea,” she whispered.
He didn’t reply. He did slow his pace to accommodate Kaylin’s hesitation, but he continued to walk, and as she was holding his arm, she followed. The small dragon lifted his neck until his head was level with her gaze. But he didn’t look at her or demand her attention; instead, he seemed to be surveying the gathered High Court.
The Consort, in her radiant white robes, sat once again at the table’s head. To her left and right, Barrani Lords were seated; Kaylin didn’t recognize them immediately. But they turned to look at her as the encroaching silence at last caught their attention. With it came the Consort’s.
Even at this distance, Kaylin could see that her eyes were blue. She looked for Teela and Andellen, the only two Lords in this room she could be fairly certain were friendly. She found Teela first.
Teela’s eyes were also an unfortunate shade of blue.
Severn continued to walk. Kaylin’s legs moved automatically to follow; there were empty seats nearer the foot of the table than its head, and that’s where Severn seemed to be leading them. He nodded, politely, in the direction of the Lords of the High Court. Kaylin, after a pause, did the same. It seemed to be working, but before they could reach the empty chairs—and the food that had suddenly lost its appeal—the Consort rose.
“Where did you obtain that dress, Lord Kaylin?”
“In a closet, Lady.”
* * *
The silence broke in several ways. Small, hurried conversations and asides sprang up around the table as the Barrani High Lords began to speak at once and over each other. Even in shock, the jostle for position was evident. One or two of these Lords attempted to catch Kaylin’s attention and failed. Kaylin’s gaze was all but riveted to the Consort’s, and the Consort didn’t blink.
“From a closet in this way station?” she finally asked.
Kaylin hated the color of her eyes. She’d spent seven years—more, really—telling anyone who would listen that she didn’t care what other people thought of her. She’d all but shouted it from the rooftops in the first few months; she’d certainly made it clear to any poor sod who’d listen for more than five minutes.
She almost never said it now, because the truth was she did care. She didn’t care about the opinion of random strangers she didn’t know and would likely never see again. That part was true. But she did care what Marcus thought. Or Teela, or Tain. Or Caitlin.
And she did, clearly, care about the Consort’s opinion. She didn’t want this woman to dislike her. But she didn’t regret the decision that had caused the Consort’s anger, either. It was not high on the list of things she’d travel into the past to change; it was nowhere close.
“Lord Kaylin?”
“Yes. From a closet—I call it a closet because to me, that’s what it looked like—in this way station. This morning.” She hesitated, because the Consort was angry and she didn’t want to make it worse. Kaylin now examined the dress with minute attention to detail. But it was a dress. It had none of the beading and none of the lace—certainly none of the boning—that human Court dresses generally boasted. Its hem skirted the edge of the boots that matched its color, but there was no obvious train, nothing to trip over if she were to be forced to run at an all-out sprint. The sleeves dripped toward the skirt’s hem, and they would cause problems in a fight, but they didn’t restrict the movement of her arms, either.
There wasn’t much in the way of gold thread, or silver; it was, excepting only the adjoined, diamond-shaped holes, a fairly simple dress. Teela’s current dress was more complicated; the Consort’s was certainly more regal, and in any case, both women naturally looked stunning, a state Kaylin felt no need to achieve because it was impossible.
The Consort smiled. It wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t smug, either. She nodded and added, “Join us, Lord Kaylin,” in a tone of voice that caused the man to her right to move. He moved, on the other hand, exactly one seat over, which left no room for Severn. Severn, whose eyes did not shift color when he was angry.
But she recognized a command when she heard it, and she headed toward the seat that had been vacated for her use. She drew eyes as she walked the length of the curving oval table to reach it, too.
“Why did you choose to wear the dress?” the Consort asked as Kaylin sat.
She stopped herself from shrugging. “The way station seems to have a mind of its own. I thought it meant me to wear the dress because the dresses I did have weren’t appropriate. Somehow.” The fact that the way station had probably been built by Barrani should have been a clue. “Can I ask why—or how—the dress was a mistake?”
One pale brow rose. “It is unlikely to be a mistake on the part of the way station,” was the Consort’s eventual reply. “But none of our kin would have worn that dress assuming it was insignificant.”
“Most of the Lords are male.”
“Ah, yes. But what would be offered to a male would be different in form; the cloth would be the same.”
“I’ll leave it here.”
“I rather think that a poor idea, Lord Kaylin; you are, of course, free to make the attempt.”
She wanted desperately to talk to Teela, who was down the other side of the table and whose eyes were about as blue as the Consort’s. Since talking to Teela wasn’t in the cards, she ate. She wasn’t certain what she was eating—some of it had the texture of mushrooms. It wasn’t her favorite texture, but there was very little food she wouldn’t eat if it was placed in front of her. There was a golden liquid that seemed too pale and too delicate to be ale or apple juice; she stuck with water, instead. But she tried, as she ate, to use the multiple utensils on either side of her plate in exactly the way Tara had taught her.
Eating
beside the Consort wasn’t as grueling as eating in front of Diarmat would have been. She told herself this several times. The Consort did not speak to her again, although she wasn’t obvious about her silence. She spoke very little to the man on her left, either, concentrating on her food, although that concentration didn’t actually involve eating any of it.
When the bells started to chime—and they sounded like wind chimes, to Kaylin’s ears—the Consort rose in silence. She left the table—no one else did—and headed toward the wide, flat set of stairs that led to the arches surrounding the lower hall.
One of the arches moved forward, as if to greet her. As it did, it grew taller and wider, its peak flattening as its frame expanded. The slightly shadowed interior of the arch also shifted, tearing as Kaylin watched. Beyond it lay the very different shadows of forest in daylight. The Consort didn’t step into the forest, though; instead, she placed both hands on the left and right sides of the frame, which required her to extend her slender arms to their full length.
Light spread from the palms of her hands and traveled up toward the peak of the arch, where it shone like a diamond, cold and hard. She spoke three long words, and they were words, although they each contained enough syllables for a paragraph. Kaylin didn’t understand them, but at the same time, she knew they meant gratitude. Complicated, complex Barrani gratitude.
The light was like starlight brought close and made personal. No one seated in the hall spoke a word; it was so silent, Kaylin wondered if they’d forgotten to breathe as well or if breathing was somehow a breach of etiquette. They remained seated, which confounded the rules of rising-as-respect that had been demanded by Diarmat—even though, in theory, much of the torturous etiquette arose from the Barrani.
While the light at the height of the arch burned at its brightest, the Consort lowered her arms, drew her hands to her side, and left the building. Only when she’d completely passed beneath the standing stone did the rest of the Court rise to join her, relaxing as they followed.
* * *
Severn was the first to join Kaylin as she rose. She wasn’t above palming some of the food, although she didn’t shove it into the long, deep pockets—the practical pockets—of the dress.
“Remind me,” she said as she fell into step at his side, “to ignore advice from silent closets in the future.”
When he failed to reply, she turned her head to catch a glimpse of his expression; it was grim.
“Kitling,” a familiar and distinctly female voice said. “I honestly cannot take you anywhere.” Teela slid a hand onto Kaylin’s shoulder; the small dragon hissed.
“Is everyone just leaving?” Kaylin asked, because it seemed as though everyone was doing exactly that. “Some of my stuff is still in my room.”
“It won’t be,” Teela replied. “The way stations open—and close—in a very particular way, and on the rare, rare occasions mortals have chanced upon them, they often wake beneath the trees from a very unusual…dream.”
“Are they all like this?”
“No. Some of them are actually interesting.”
Kaylin turned to stare at Teela, but it was impossible to tell whether she meant this as a joke. “I can’t leave in this dress.”
“You will find that materially inaccurate,” Teela replied. “I do think the boots are a nice touch.”
They were at the tail end of a loosely formed line, which dwindled as the Lords of the Barrani Court passed beneath the arch. “If you could stop mocking me—for just a few minutes—and tell me what’s special about this dress, I’d really appreciate it.”
“It’s the fabric. We call it the blood of the green.” She let go of Kaylin’s shoulder and approached the standing arch. “I will go ahead. Corporal Handred, I suggest you do likewise.”
“Why, exactly?”
“You will understand shortly. Don’t worry, kitling,” she added in Elantran. “It’s highly unlikely that you will be detained, and if you are, the Consort will no doubt bespeak the way station to negotiate your release.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Chapter 14
Severn didn’t want to exit the way station before Kaylin did. Teela all but insisted, and while that usually worked in the office, Kaylin could practically see Severn digging his heels in.
“Teela, does it matter?”
“It is a precaution, nothing more.” Teela’s eyes were blue.
“For his sake or mine?”
“For his.”
Which pretty much settled that, except for the glaring and a few more chilly words on Teela’s part. She departed first, her stride a little on the long side.
Which left Kaylin and Severn alone in the hall. “Was he here?” she asked quietly.
Severn glanced at her. After a long moment, he shook his head.
“Neither was Nightshade.”
“You looked?”
“I don’t have to. He wasn’t in the way station last night.”
Severn nodded. “It’s unlikely that the Arcanist would stop here. We’re still within the boundaries of the Empire. If he is wary—and he must be—he will not leave much of a trail until we are closer to the West March itself.”
“Nightshade—”
“Nightshade is different. The Arcanist is wanted by the Emperor, for crimes against the Empire. He is not, yet, Outcaste. Nightshade was made Outcaste by the current High Lord’s father. It is a judgment that crosses boundaries.”
“He lives in the fiefs, which are at the heart of the same city as the High Halls.”
“Yes. But the concept of treachery to the race isn’t entrenched in the Barrani Caste Court in the same way it is in the Dragon Court. A Barrani can be made Outcaste by subtle political maneuvering. It’s not unlike assassination. A Dragon? No.”
“You think he’ll come out into the open in the West March?”
Severn frowned. “I don’t know. The Consort is waiting,” he added, changing the subject.
“I’d like to be able to leave the way I arrived,” Kaylin told him, staring up at the light. “Is that what you did?”
“I didn’t travel with the Consort, the High Lord, or the Lord of the West March,” he replied. It was evasive, and he knew it.
“So you didn’t have this whole leave-taking ceremony.”
“No. But I didn’t stay at this way station, and given the rest of the Court, it’s probably wisest to follow.”
“I’m not sure I like the light.”
Severn nodded. “I know.” Smiling, he offered her his arm; she slid a hand over the top of his wrist and they both took a step forward. The small dragon’s head was higher than hers; if Kaylin didn’t trust the light, he seemed fascinated by it. She raised her free hand and clamped it firmly over his body. He hissed.
“Sorry,” she told him. “I can’t afford to have you eat that.” She suddenly felt certain this was both a possibility and a danger, and she walked more quickly toward ostensible freedom.
When her foot touched forest floor on one side, the light suddenly fell, as if it had weight and substance. It struck her head that way as well, and she let loose a couple of indiscreet Leontine words; both of her hands were occupied.
Before she could let go of either Severn or the small dragon, Severn caught her around the waist and pulled her the rest of the way through.
* * *
After the initial pain of the impact, she felt a sudden rush of heat; she hoped it wasn’t blood and lifted her hand to the crown of her skull. The pain was gone. What remained was warmth, and the warmth flowed into her hand and down her arm, traveling as if it were corporeal. It almost was; she could see silver light surround her arm as it traveled.
The dress absorbed it as if it was liquid; Kaylin’s skin absorbed it, as well. She felt the marks on her arms begin to react; they became warmer. They were only partially hidden by the fall of green cloth, and she could see they now shone a pale, pale gold.
Teela was waiting, her eyes a sapphire-blue. The rest of
the Court was waiting, as well.
“So,” the Lady said.
The green dress had not disappeared with the way station. Kaylin’s pack and bedroll were on the ground beneath the bowers of the nearest tree, beside Severn’s. She shook herself and headed toward them.
* * *
Andellen was about as happy as Teela, which made the first hour of the carriage ride pretty chilly. Not that it wasn’t a little chilly to begin with; it was only barely dawn, and the color of the sky—absent the City skyline—was one Kaylin generally experienced on the long, hard shifts of the emergency midwives’ calls. She drew the cape that had accompanied the dress more tightly around her shoulders, surprised at just how much fabric there was. It wasn’t wool, it wasn’t oiled, and it wasn’t particularly heavy, but it was warm nonetheless.
“Teela, your face is going to crack if you don’t say something soon.”
“My apologies, Lord Kaylin.”
Ugh. Barrani moods could be unpleasant and unpredictable, but Kaylin knew this one. She turned to Andellen instead. “Lord Andellen.” Trammeled by High Barrani, she clenched her jaws briefly before she continued. “Does the dress have significance for you, as well?”
“It does. I am a Lord of the High Court, and my name is my own.”
“You’ve seen it before.”
“I have seen the blood of the green once before.”
“When you went on your pilgrimage to the West March?”
“On one of them, yes.”
“Why is it significant? Does it have something to do with the regalia?”
He turned to stare out the carriage windows. “You will have to discuss this with my Lord,” he finally said, failing to look at her as he spoke.
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