“I did not destroy them. I freed them. I freedallof you. You were one mind. You were nine existences. The walls between each diminished you and what you could be. As long as one of you existed, nine existed. How do you think you were saved? I did not intend to control you. I did not intend to subvert you. Child, I—”
She roared bloody murder. The floors shook. The walls shook.
Moran’s lips compressed into a single—and very familiar—line. She flicked her wings. Both the outcaste and the enraged gold Dragon flew out of the Aerie, if byflightone meant “were thrown.”
“Andyou.” Moran turned to Kaylin. “Whatever you’re doing, stop itright now.”
“I’m not—”
“I mean it. I’m getting a headache looking at you, and I have already had enough headache for one damn day. If you don’t want to be busted back down to mascot,cut it the hells out.”
Kaylin blinked.
The world shifted. When she dared a glance at her left shoulder, the familiar—in his small and squawky form—was perched there looking very much like an owl that had caught all the mice. All.
She stared at him. He met her gaze, his opal eyes wide—and small, and contained. In spite of herself, she shuddered. He leaned forward and bit her ear.
* * *
One Dragon rose from the floor of the giant cave, and it was clear he had control of his movements.
“Eternal Emperor,” Moran said.
“Sergeant dar Carafel.”
“I cannot allow the fight to take place here.” The respect due an absolute monarch wasn’t entirely absent, but it was close.
“No, of course not. Release the members of my court to me, and we will carry the fight to them.”
“A word of advice?”
“Very, very cautiously and respectfully offered?”
“Your Majesty.” She bent her head; it was as much a bow as she would offer. “He does not intend her death.”
“You think he will not harm her?”
“I think he does notintendto harm her,” was the quiet reply. “But if I understand what I’ve heard here, he has caused her far more harm without that intention than anything else she has faced. She will kill him if she can.”
“Of course. Sheisa Dragon.”
* * *
“We’re going to have to talk,” Kaylin told her familiar. “I mean it. We’re going to have to have alongtalk.”
He squawked, which was very disheartening.
“You are going to have to have it at home,” Moran said firmly.
“But I—”
“You are shaking as if the temperature is cold enough to freeze water. And it’s not cold.”
“I don’t—”
“I mean it. You are going home, or you are going back to the Halls of Law, where you will be strapped to a bed until you recover.” She folded her arms.
Kaylin felt, oddly, like weeping. “But, Moran—the flight, the Dragons, the—”
