Kaylin sighed. “No, sir.”
“What did you do to Moran?”
She really resented the question, and was too exhausted to hide it. Being exhausted pushed her into one of two states, but since sleep wasn’t an option, she settled into prickly and irritable instead. “Ididn’t do anything to the sergeant,” she replied, using Moran’s rank for emphasis, because hers was so junior in comparison.
The Hawklord frowned.
Kaylin attempted to straighten up shoulders that were probably sagging. Attention was not a natural posture. The small dragon was slumped across her shoulders as if he were absorbing her exhaustion. “We went to see Evanton, sir.”
“And she returned, able to fly.”
“We met Lillias.”
He stiffened; he obviously recognized the name.
“He left Lillias in the garden with Moran, and Lillias told Moran that Evanton lets her fly there—in secret, in the folds of the elemental air. Moran was invited to join her—and did. Except she didn’t need the elemental air. The injuries she sustained, which would cripple any other Aerian, apparently don’t affect her ability to fly. Once she realized this...” Kaylin shrugged.
“She flew to work.”
Kaylin nodded.
“Which means she could fly to the Southern Reach.”
Kaylin stiffened, then. She was too tired to think, and hadn’t been. She started to now. The Hawklord was right. If Moran could fly—and demonstrably, publicly, she could—there was no reason she needed to stay in Kaylin’s house. No reason she had to live where the rest of the ground dwellers were forced to live.
“She thought her flying would remove most of the political stress you’ve been under.”
“I highly doubt that.” He lifted a hand before more words could follow. “I do not doubt that you both believe that. I find that view entirely too optimistic at this point. Moran can fly. Her duty to the Hawks, her service to the Imperial Halls of Law, has therefore not done irreparable harm to the Aerians, as was first claimed.” His expression made clear what he thought of that claim.
“But the assassination attempts, and the coercion of Margot, occurred regardless. They are crimes. If Moran can be pressured—mistakenly believing it is for my sake—into recanting all accusation, the assassination attempts would be removed from our remit. They would become a matter of the Caste Court.
“The events in Elani Street cannot be so remanded. They were perpetuated by a human, not an Aerian.”
“Could our prisoner attempt to have the case remanded to the human Caste Court?”
The Hawklord’s answering grin was so devoid of warmth or humor Kaylin almost took a step back.
“You’re joking, right?”
“I have not said a thing, but were I to do so, I would most assuredly find no humor in it.” His wings unfolded slightly, but his eyes remained blue. “Have you ever seen her fly like that?”
Kaylin had watched flying Aerians all her life, and had seen precisely none who could fly the way Moran had been flying.
“Very well. I will not caution you. Moran seems to have done well living with you; if she wishes to continue—”
“She’s not going back to the Southern Reach.” Kaylin folded her arms. Severn recognized her mutinous glare, but said nothing, content to let the Hawklord shoulder the brunt of the work.
“That must,” the Hawklord said gently, “be her choice, surely?”
“Yes. But she likes living with us.”
“She ispraevolo,” the Hawklord replied.
“So what? She’s a person, not a symbol. And she wasn’t happy living in the Reaches.”
“Ah. No. No, she was not. Dismissed.”
* * *
