Kaylin waited until Maggaron had left before turning to Emmerian. “Why did you want me here?”
“You have a tendency to interrupt when you feel people are going in the wrong direction.” He laid his hands across the table and stared at the tops of them as if they were a very poorly drawn map. “Am I?”
She shook her head. “You’re not trying to make decisions for her—you’re not that stupid.” She shrugged, uncomfortable now. “I’m not the person people come to for relationship advice. To me, it seems like you care about her. A lot. And you want as much information as you can get from people who also do.”
“Is this what she wants?” The words were a whisper.
“You’ll have to ask her.” Seeing the color of his eyes, she relented. “Of the Dragons, I think you do see her—or try to see her—as she is. Look, I thought I knew Teela. I’ve known her for half my life. But I didn’t. I knew her as a Hawk. She’s been a lot more than that. Doesn’t mean I don’t care about her. What I thought I knew wasn’t nothing. But knowing more doesn’t change the fact that she’s important to me.
“You see Bellusdeo in a way I don’t. Doesn’t mean either of us are wrong. We don’t want the same things from her, and she probably doesn’t want the same things from us. You need to figure out what you want, because she’ll figure out what she wants.”
“I don’t want,” he said, in Elantran, “to be a pressure or an obligation.”
She nodded. In a quieter voice, she said, “Bellusdeo found an answer for Karriamis in the heat of the moment because she didn’t want to lose you. Ummm, if you could avoid throwing your life away in order to protect her in the future, I’d really suggest it.”
His smile lightened the odd color of his eyes. “So Bellusdeo has already informed me.”
“Was she melting walls when she said it?”
“Only one.”
* * *
Kaylin was awake in the morning before Helen added obnoxious morning light to her room. She was dressed, and occupied the edge of her bed, fidgeting. Hope was cranky, and shared.
“You awake?” Mandoran asked, through a closed door.
“More or less.”
“You owe me a week of dinners.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Mortal memory isn’t that bad. Also, Bellusdeo’s here.”
Kaylin exhaled. “I’ll be right there.” She slid off the bed and headed to the door.
“Did you sleep at all?” Mandoran asked. “You look terrible.”
“You look lovely, too. How long has she been here?”
“She just arrived.” He held her gaze for a beat before offering a very fief shrug. “I hate goodbyes, too.”
Kaylin wanted to tell him that Bellusdeo wasn’t going far—but he already knew that. So did she. Bellusdeo would be getting her life back—or at least a life she’d chosen, one that she wanted. She’d be happier. Much happier. That was a good thing, right?
It was. It was a good thing—for Bellusdeo. And there’d be a lot less conflict in Kaylin’s life, because the Emperor couldn’t blame her for anything that happened to Bellusdeo.
“I’ll miss her, too,” Mandoran offered. His life would be less complicated as well. Funny how neither of them seemed to prize it. As silver linings went, it was distinctly black and tarnished.
“I don’t mean to rush you, dear,” Helen’s voice said, “but Bellusdeo is waiting.”
She was. She stood—in plate armor—at the foot of the stairs, tapping her foot impatiently. When Kaylin and Mandoran came into view, she frowned. “You look awful. Did the midwives call?”
“She had trouble sleeping,” Helen replied. Her Avatar was in the hall beside the gold Dragon.
“Where’s Maggaron?”
“He’s gone ahead with my belongings. Are you just going to stand there?”
Mandoran gave Kaylin a nudge.
“I’m not just talking to her,” Bellusdeo told him. “For some reason, I’m not as delighted to be rid of you as I expected I would be.”
“I’m delighted,” Mandoran said.
Her smile was genuine, softened by the gold of her eyes. “Come downstairs. Don’t make me go up there.”
Mandoran smiled and shook his head. He descended beside Kaylin—if there was going to be sentiment, he wasn’t going to endure it alone.
Kaylin was grateful for his company. And surprised when Bellusdeo exited Helen before they’d reached her. Helen, however, was smiling, her eyes the warm brown that implied all was right with the world—or at least the parts for which she was responsible.
“Have a good time, dear.”
“What?”
“Go.”
* * *
“You realize,” Kaylin told her almost former roommate, “that you’re breaking the law, right?”
Bellusdeo, in full draconic form, stood on the front lawn.
“I’ll apologize later.”
Mandoran snorted. “I am not hugging you while you look like that. I have some Barrani pride.”
“Stop dawdling.”
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to get on my back. If I recall, you always loved flight.”
“Yes, but in my daydreams, I was doing it on my own.”
The Dragon snorted. Kaylin climbed up on her back. “I hate goodbyes,” Bellusdeo said, her voice a deep rumble.
“Me too.”
“So I’m avoiding them.” She pushed off the ground.
“Where are we going?”
“To the Tower,” Bellusdeo roared back. Draconic voices weren’t lost to simple things like too much wind. “I asked Helen, and Helen thought it was a good idea.”
“What was a good idea?”
“You’re going to spend a few days with me. You can prevent me from attempting to kill Karriamis. You, too,” she told Mandoran, who appeared to be keeping pace with her. “I want guests. Karriamis isn’t silent, but he’s like Lannagaros when he’s interrupted—he accepts it with obvious tolerance.
“Helen said this was a housewarming,” she added. “I want to show you my house.”
“I don’t need to see any more of your house,” Mandoran told her. But he didn’t drop back.
“I need you to see more of my house,” Bellusdeo replied.
“So much for quieter,” Mandoran told Kaylin, his voice normal, the words completely audible. But his eyes were green.
Kaylin’s eyes were brown, mortal eyes being what they were, but she felt as if they might be another color—one that matched pure gold and pure green.
* * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As of this writing, it’s December 2020, and it has been...2020.
We’ve been at home since March, when my long-suffering husband’s office shuttered and all of its employees were sent to work from home.
I am doing far better than many, in that I’m essentially the living version of Oscar the Grouch; I am not suffering from prolonged isolation, because I see people every day—the rest of my family, who are also shut in. Zoom call dinners have replaced the weekly dinners with my sons’ godfather’s family. My mother drops groceries and essentials at the back door. Our shopping is mostly done online, and when groceries are necessary, my husband goes out because he has a driver’s license.
But our lives, though cramped and uncomfortable, are nonetheless decent.
And that would not be possible if it weren’t for essential workers. If it weren’t for grocery store clerks and courier and postal drivers and fulfilment warehouse workers—people who never got to shut down in safety because without them there would be panic and riots. (One of our delivery drivers said it’s like Christmas rush all the time, since March.)
I know I’m missing people, here. But the point is this: the only reason many of us could stay home
and stay relatively safe is because some people didn’t. And I’m incredibly grateful.
ISBN-13: 9780369704825
Cast in Conflict
Copyright © 2021 by Michelle Sagara
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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