“The fire is not notably reluctant to burn things.”
“No, but it would upset your guests.”
Lillias had been watching Moran, and only Moran; the social dance of apology, groveling and possible forgiveness meant nothing to her. Her eyes were a complicated shade of purple and the deeper gray that was the Aerian norm. She rose from the chair she’d occupied, and froze, standing by the table.
Moran understood what had happened; Kaylin didn’t, but could guess. Some greeting to thepraevoloinvolved the spread or movement of actual wings, and Lillias, without them, couldn’t perform the proper gestures.
Moran caught Lillias’s hands before Lillias could fall to her knees. “I thought you’d died,” the Aerian sergeant whispered.
Lillias bowed her head. She raised it again when Moran’s hands tightened. “No, Moran.” She didn’t use the title.
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“I did not know how. I was stranded, grounded. Were it not for the kindness of another Aerian, I would have remained in the Southern Reach, in a cave that was once used for the outcaste and other criminals; I had no way of reaching the ground. But I could not return.”
“But—I work on the ground—”
“Yes. I was not aware of that. I was given very little information about the Aerians.” She spoke the word as if it no longer applied to her. “And I had to adapt to life here. I almost didn’t,” she added, but the words were spoken with a wryness that bordered on affection. She shook herself. “I wouldn’t have recognized you, if not for the wings. You are a grown woman now, not an angry young child.” She hesitated. “Evanton says you wished to speak with me?”
“Of course I did. I had no idea you were alive until Kaylin said she’d met you.”
“We are going to the garden,” Evanton declared, rising. “The kitchen is crowded enough that it feels cramped; the garden is quite pleasant at the moment. Come.”
* * *
The elemental garden was, as Evanton had stated, pleasant. The breeze was gentle. The water was entirely contained in a pond that was deeper than the Imperial Palace was tall. Moss had grown across stones, but the earth was calm, and the grass that took root in it was lush and green, if a little unkempt.
Lillias had clearly seen this garden before, judging by her utter lack of surprise, but Moran had not. Given the cramped, rickety hall and the narrow closet-size door that led to this space, that wasn’t surprising.
“You’ve been here before,” Kaylin said to Lillias.
“Yes. Not often. Evanton is a busy man, and I don’t like to intrude.”
Moran was flexing her wings, although the injured one was slow to respond.
“How did you find out that Moran was here? I mean, on the ground?”
“Because I saw her,” Lillias replied. “I saw her on the night the Dragons came out to fight. I saw her in the air, with the rest of the Hawks.”
“You could recognize her from the ground?”
Lillias looked genuinely surprised by the question. She glanced at Moran, who was speaking, for the moment, to Evanton.
“I’m sorry if that was rude—it wasn’t intentional.”
“No. No, I forget myself.” Lillias’s smile was old and careworn. “We can see her, when she flies. She could be miles off, and if we could see her at all as more than a speck in the sky, we would know, instantly, who she is. She ispraevolo.”
“You saw her get injured.”
Lillias bowed her head. “Yes.”
“That’s why you had Evanton make the charm?”
“It is not a charm,” Lillias’s voice was even quieter. She stiffened and looked over her shoulder. “It is part of the voice of the wind here. Can you hear it?”
Kaylin couldn’t.
“The wind knows its own,” Lillias said in Aerian. It was a phrase Kaylin knew because the Hawklord sometimes used it. But he’d never meant it literally, and it was clear that Lillias did. “I have no wings,” she continued. “Which you, of course, noticed. Most people don’t.”
