Kaylin, drier, donned a robe and headed back to her own room and the white dress that was no doubt waiting there. And shoes.
“But... I don’t have a True Name, and I can hear the people whose names I do hold.”
“You do have a name, Kaylin.”
“I don’t have a name that’s essential or necessary. I was alive just fine without it.”
“I believe that it helps.”
Kaylin frowned. “I didn’t take a name for Severn. Severn can hear me.”
Helen nodded. It was not in any way helpful or informative.
“Please just tell me what you’re thinking.”
“It is not fact, but theory; it is not something I am certain is useful.”
“I listen to a lot of facts that are completely useless. I’m asking for your opinion.”
“Very well. You are Chosen. You have been Chosen since you were eleven or twelve. The marks that cover a large portion of your body are True Words. I believe your ability to hold, to hear and to contain the True Names you’ve taken or received resides in the power of those marks. It takes a certain amount of power to speak a name. Not to speak a social variant, but the name itself.”
“Severn can speak mine.”
“Can he? Has he truly tried?”
“Yes. Once.”
Silence. Kaylin held up a hand, although Helen did not seem immediately intent on breaking it. “He tried once, and then was angry enough at himself for even trying that he wouldn’t speak normally—to me—for days. It was awful. I barely noticed the attempt.”
“You did notice.”
“Yes—but, Helen, if I had been Severn, if he’d been in my position, I’d’ve done the same thing. I’d’ve tried. And if I think I’d’ve done what he did, I can’t be angry about it.”
“He shouldn’t have tried.”
“No, probably not. But I shouldn’t be late, shouldn’t swear when dealing with the public and shouldn’t damage regulation wear. I also shouldn’t take shortcuts through private homes when I’m in pursuit of people, and I definitely shouldn’t accidentally knock Margot’s damn sign over when I’m in a foul mood. If I have to be angry about every mistake someone makes, wouldn’t I have to start with me and work outward?”
“I think those are minor indulgences in comparison.”
“They are. And we weren’t talking about that; we were talking about the fact that Severn can hear me and can speak to me, and he doesn’t have a name.” She didn’t want Helen to be angry at Severn. She didn’t want Helen to judge him. Kaylin could fight her own battles, and Severn had done nothing to harm Helen, ever.
“I am not an expert on the Chosen,” Helen finally said. “I am only an expert about my tenants, and each tenant was individual. But in your case, I believe that the power that binds you to each other, and the power that is given to Severn, comes from you. He could make the attempt to use the name because you understood, on some subconscious level, that that’s how True Names work.
“Terrano, however, is not Chosen. Without the name he chose to abandon, he doesn’t have the link to the rest of his friends. And no,” she said before Kaylin could ask, “I do not believe that you could, with your powers, rebuild that bridge. You don’t understand how to use the powers you have. Ah, no. You understand how to use them in certain ways. Your healing magic comes from the marks. But you have never deliberately attempted to experiment with the powers those marks might otherwise grant.”
“This is why I’m taking magic lessons.”
“I note that you have not had an actual class with Lord Sanabalis in some time.”
“Diarmat thought etiquette was more important.”
“And it is just possible that tonight you will be able to evaluate that for yourself. Ah, but before the guest of honor arrives, I believe you have other guests. Don’t forget,” she added, “to wear the medallion the Arkon sent you.”
* * *
What Kaylin liked about this particular dress—which was white and loose and elegant—was its practicality. It had been magically made by something that might have been elemental. It did not tear. It did not catch on anything. It did not impede movement—she could run in an all-out sprint and it didn’t get under her feet or force her to shorten her stride.
What she hated about it was the fact that it was so revealing. Her arms were mostly bare, as was part of her back. She’d spent all of her adult life in long-sleeve shirts or dresses, attempting to hide the marks that adorned over half of her body. This dress did not achieve that concealment in the same way. Helen had offered to make adjustments the last time Kaylin had worn it, but adjustments could not, in the end, be made.
The alternative, which Kaylin did accept, was a jacket that was extremely soft and comfortable, but which did catch on things like doors. It was a lovely black—Kaylin’s favorite color for clothing because it was practical—but Helen made clear that the minute Kaylin stepped beyond the gates at the front of the house, the jacket would disintegrate or vanish.
Kaylin had arranged the medallion so that it was, if not prominent, then at least obvious; she had Helen knot the chain at her neck so the medallion itself rested between her collarbones. Helen didn’t approve, but didn’t offer to shorten the chain instead of knotting it.
“Are you ready?” Helen asked softly. Any attempt to create jewelry for Kaylin had met with sullen resentment; Kaylin wore only one ring—but to the Consort, that ring would be significant. It had been given to Kaylin by the Lord of the West March, and it declared Kaylin family.
No. Kyuthe. Ynpharion corrected her with a touch of anxiety.
Is she on her way? It’s way too early for her to be on her way.
She is preparing, just as you are.
“The first of your guests has arrived,” Helen added.
Kaylin almost shrieked. “Dinner’s two hours away!”
“Yes.”
* * *
The first of the guests, as Helen had cheerfully pointed out, were actually the first and second. The door opened on the Arkon and Lord Emmerian. Kaylin hadn’t come up with an invitation list; there was already enough panic and stress about dinner, and since she’d spent most of her time leading up to it attempting to cancel, this made sense. But she didn’t remember Emmerian’s name being mentioned at all.
Bellusdeo was still in her room, as were the rest of the cohort; Tain was nowhere in sight.
Severn, however, appeared at the top of the stairs. He, like Kaylin, was dressed for a formal dinner, but unlike Kaylin, his clothing suited him.
“Kaylin,” Helen said, catching Kaylin’s attention and dragging it away from a formal, well-turned-out Severn. “Your guests.”
Kaylin grimaced, but managed to realign the shape of her mouth so it looked like she was smiling. The Arkon grimaced in return, which meant she hadn’t been entirely successful. She then stepped out of the doorway and allowed both men to enter. Lord Emmerian swept her a perfect but elegant bow. The Arkon didn’t bother.
“At my age,” he said, “some gestures are considered too taxing.”
The familiar on Kaylin’s shoulder snorted. Dragons did age, but not the way mortals did; age was considered a sign of strength. That the Arkon had chosen to adopt age as an appearance did not, in fact, mean that something as simple as a bow was beyond his elderly bones.
“If you would care to come this way,” Helen said when Kaylin failed to immediately remember what she was supposed to do as hostess. “You are early, but we are of course delighted to have you.”
The Arkon accepted.
Lord Emmerian, however, did not—not immediately.
“Yes, of course,” Helen said, although neither of the Dragons had spoken. “There are some doors that will remain closed for the entirety of dinner, but if you require entrance for your peace of mind, I will return shortly to supervise. The guest rooms
, however, are entirely off-limits.”
“Understood,” Emmerian replied. “Perhaps the corporal will join me?”
“That is, of course, up to the corporal. Severn?”
Severn bowed—to Emmerian. There was no hint at all that he found the task of escorting a member of the Dragon Court annoying. He probably didn’t. But he moved quietly, certainly, and he led Lord Emmerian to Helen’s dining room.
Probably, Kaylin reflected, to get him out of the foyer before Bellusdeo came down the stairs.
“Yes,” Helen said quietly. “It is only natural that the Arkon have an escort, and you are not fond of the palace guard he might otherwise bring. But Bellusdeo can be sensitive about the Dragon Court. Bellusdeo will join the Arkon in the parlor.”
* * *
The parlor was a much larger room than it had been the previous day; it was as large—and as richly appointed—as it had been on the night the Emperor had come to dinner. On that night, Lord Emmerian had not come to do a security sweep of the building first.
“Lord Kaylin,” the Arkon said as Kaylin hovered near a chair.
Kaylin bowed.
The Arkon waved a hand. “That is not necessary until Emmerian returns—and possibly not even then. Unless you are doing it to annoy Bellusdeo.”
“I never try to annoy her.”
“Ah, forgive me. I meant, of course, the annoyance of the necessity of you, personally, doing so. She is not here, regardless; the gesture is therefore wasted.” Helen offered the Arkon a drink; a small amount of amber liquid swirled in the curve of the glass. He raised his brows, both white, both bushy.
“You are very well supplied,” he told the Avatar of Kaylin’s home.
“It was one of my functions. I am not, however, permitted to harm the guests, and you are a guest.”
“Even were you, I have confidence in Lord Kaylin. And, Lord Kaylin? You will cease that cringe.”
“I wasn’t cringing.”
“You cringe every time someone uses the title you have earned in the Barrani High Court. Tonight, however, you will hear it when you are addressed. To grimace in that fashion might imply that you hold the title itself in some disdain—and I assure you that is politically unwise.”
It was going to be a long damn evening.
* * *
By the time Lord Emmerian and Severn returned to the parlor, Bellusdeo had joined the Arkon. She didn’t bother to use a formal title to address Kaylin, and the Arkon didn’t bother to correct her. Of course not.
“You are expecting the Consort, and only the Consort?”
“I highly doubt the High Lord is going to just walk in off the street with no notice,” Kaylin replied.
“I assume you did not invite him.”
“Well, no.”
“Very well. The Consort will arrive. Her escort?”
“Escort?”
Ynpharion screamed in the back of Kaylin’s head. He had otherwise been silent, but given the presence of Dragons, Kaylin wasn’t certain how much he could now see or hear; she trusted Helen’s discretion in what she allowed. She will have personal guards. Does the Emperor travel without them?
Kaylin decided not to answer that question, given the tension between the Emperor and the High Court at the moment. “Helen, if the Consort arrives with her personal guards, what do we do with the guards?”
“They, like me, will be expected to do their duty while the Consort socializes. They will not, of course, be serving—but they will likely occupy positions near the doors.” To Emmerian, she said, “The Consort’s full escort will not be entering the house proper; they will be arrayed just outside of the grounds.”
Kaylin wondered whether or not she would be hemmed in by escorts if she were ever rich enough, important enough. She didn’t like the thought. In her universe, until relatively recently, power simply meant the freedom to do what she wanted, without fear. She was beginning to understand in a very visceral way that what changed with enough power was the nature of the fear.
That, and the number of rules that had to be followed or someone would take offense.
She could tell a Hawk to drop dead on a bad day, and they’d be fine with it tomorrow, with one or two notable exceptions. She could have a bad hair day, a bad clothing day—some encounters damaged clothing and parts of actual body, as well—could come in with dust or dirt under her fingernails, was not judged by the jewelry she wore. She didn’t have to somehow stand up as the epitome of...something. Just the law.
Kaylin was used to being judged, although she resented it when it was safe to do so. But to be judged for things that made no sense and seemed unnecessary both flustered and annoyed her. She was taking a test that she couldn’t afford to fail, and she realized that two days was not nearly enough time to truly study for it.
“You can afford to fail this one, dear,” Helen said quietly.
“I’m not the one who’ll pay for my failure.”
“No. That is, unfortunately, one of the disadvantages of power. People with less immediate power are likely to bear the consequences.”
“I would not say the cohort is without power,” Bellusdeo said in the same subdued tone that Helen had used. It implied that she agreed with Helen, but that she felt obliged to defend Kaylin. Oddly, this made Kaylin feel worse, not better.
The Arkon cleared his throat, the way thunderclouds rumbled.
“We have something to discuss before the most significant of your guests arrive.”
Chapter 6
Lord Emmerian did not take a seat; he chose to stand by the entrance to the parlor, his arms folded. Bellusdeo nodded in his direction, but didn’t otherwise greet him.
“I will not ask you for precise, arcane explanations of what occurred when you traveled to the West March without notice. Nor will I ask you all that occurred in your absence. I have spoken with Bellusdeo, and believe her explanations would be more academically satisfying.
“This is not a matter of the academic. The Hallionne Alsanis was compromised.”
Kaylin nodded.
“In theory the first breach occurred some months ago, by one of your current guests.”
Kaylin’s nod was slower to come, and vastly more troubled.
“You trust that guest.”
“Yes.”
“Helen, do you feel that you are capable of containing him, should the need arise?”
“I am uncertain,” Helen replied.
“Very well. None of the rest of your guests achieved the...freedom that Terrano did.”
Kaylin shot Bellusdeo a look. It bounced off her profile.
“No.”
“Do not make that face. I am not concerned with the possible actions of your guests—or rather, not their intentional actions. But the recent difficulty in the West March could not be laid at the feet of those guests. The Hallionne Alsanis was breached—without his knowledge—from the outside. It is just possible that, were it not for your interference, or the interference of your guests, the attackers would now control the Hallionne.”
“Terrano thinks that unlikely,” Helen told the Arkon.
“Oh?”
“Apologies. While we have not had this discussion in your presence, Arkon, we have discussed it, and at some length. Some of the concepts cannot be easily explained to Kaylin, and it was judged too risky to demonstrate. But the rest of the guests understand viscerally now. They will be watching and listening in ways they were not while in the West March. They understand how they were trapped, how that pocket space was created, and by what. I do not think the same trap will work again.”
“It is not the trap itself, with all due respect, but the possibility of attack.”
“Yes. I believe Lord Emmerian has done a comprehensive examination of the rooms which will be in use.”
The Arkon exhaled a steady stream of smok
e, his eye color deepening to orange.
“Lord Kaylin’s guests have, as you suspect, no love of Dragons. They are, however, honorable in the ways of their kin. They owe Bellusdeo their lives. She fought to protect and defend them. They will make no attempt to harm her and, indeed, would risk much to save her—although, of course, that will not be necessary.”
“The Emperor remains at odds with the High Halls.”
“Because of the misunderstanding caused by Lord Kaylin’s familiar,” Helen said.
“Ah. Yes.” A beat of silence. “I am not a terribly political creature, as you must be aware. But, Helen, none of my kin are naturally political. Politics among my kin generally involved fire, flight and death. The Emperor is capable of subtlety when he is not enraged.
“Unfortunately, he remains very, very angry. We must be grateful that Bellusdeo is not.”
Kaylin snorted. “She wasn’t angry when it did happen. She thought they were clever.”
“And they were,” Bellusdeo said, smiling.
“The High Lord has been stiff in his interactions with the Imperial Court; he cannot afford to capitulate to Imperial demands. His tenure is too new, too vulnerable. I believe,” he added with just a hint of question, “you have been provided with the relevant information. You understand that should anything go wrong this evening, it will deepen the rift between the two Courts, possibly irrevocably.”
“The Barrani won’t harm the Consort.”
“It would not be the first time that this particular set of Barrani have tried.”
“That was—” Kaylin snapped her jaws together to prevent words from escaping. What she thought was: So did Ynpharion, and he’s now one of the Consort’s closest personal attendants. But...that was information the Dragon Court didn’t need, if they didn’t already have it.
Ynpharion said nothing, although she was suddenly certain he’d heard that thought. There was nothing he could say. But if he could be accepted, so could the cohort.
“They won’t try now. They’ll never try again while they have any control over their own actions. I’d bet my life on it.”
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