“Because I accepted the hospitality.”
“Doesn’t matter why. I don’t want you dead. I didn’t realize just how important Helen was in that regard. She’ll let you leave if you want to leave; this isn’t a prison, and she doesn’t treat guests like prisoners.”
“But she has a prison for intruders?”
Kaylin shrugged. “If she doesn’t have holding cells, she can make them up as needed. You’re not an intruder, and you’re not a prisoner. She’ll let you leave if you want.Imight cling to your legs, begging, pleading and whining.”
Moran chuckled. “I love these rooms,” she said, half-wistful. “And I am more comfortable with Helen than I have been with anyone for a very long time.”
“Helen doesn’t want you to leave if you don’t want to go. She’s not angry with you. She doesn’t blame you for anything that anyone’s trying to do to me. Are you coming to dinner tomorrow night?”
Moran blinked. “Are you changing the subject?”
“Not really. If it weren’t my house, I wouldn’t be there for dinner, either. I suggested it, but Helen flat-out refused.”
“It’s not very hospitable, dear,” Helen’s disembodied voice said. “But Kaylin is right. You are not to blame for the actions of others. And I think you need the type of peace that I can offer. I’m not a Hawk. I’m not a ruler. I can’t control the events that occur beyond my grounds. But I take some small pride in creating a space in which you can feel at home.”
“Do you think I should discuss things with Kaylin?”
“You discuss things with her all the time.”
Kaylin stifled a grin. Moran was still not quite accustomed to how literal Helen could be.
“I remember when you first walked into the infirmary. You looked at it as if it were a torture chamber, with better beds.”
Kaylin reddened, but laughed. “I thought it was.”
“I know. I tried not to take offense, as I recall.”
“You didn’t try very hard.”
Moran grinned. “Prickly, defensive teens are difficult at the best of times.”
Kaylin snorted. “You were just mad because I didn’t acknowledge the infirmary as yours.”
“And you learned better.”
“I really did.” She rose. “I liked the infirmary better than the morgue, if that’s any help. I didn’t really understand the purpose of the morgue.”
“I didn’t, either. But we don’t bury our dead.”
“No?”
“No. Our traditional burial customs would probably not meet with your approval—but being bound to earth is one of our worst fears. No one wants to be interred beneath it.” She leaned her head back against solid, wet rock, exposing her throat. “Yes, I recognized the items. Or I recognized two of them.”
“Which ones?”
“The flight feather, in a general sense. It’s Aerian.”
“And specifically?”
“The bracelet.”
“What do you think the collar was about?”
“I dread the possible answer to that question. If you mean was it something I wore or would be forced to wear? I don’t think so. At this point, though, I wouldn’t put anything past dar Carafel.”
“Whoever sent that guy to Margot clearly felt the collar was significant.”
