Kaylin looked guilty because she was.
“What are you doing with that?” The words were uttered in outraged sergeant, which was actually a very soft, very quiet, very well-enunciated voice.
“I thought it might be important.”
“It’sevidence,” the sergeant snapped. “You are never going to make corporal at this rate. Never. The only possible way you could do it is if Sergeant Kassan is angry enough that he wants to promote you so he has a rank he can bust you back down to.”
This was harsh, but probably true.
“No one asked.” Kaylin flushed. How long had it been since she’d even tried to make that excuse fly? “Look—I thought it was possibly important to the Aerians. Whoever sent the man to Margot clearly thought these three items—feather, collar, bracelet—were relevant toyou. They wanted information about you. And the stupid Caste Court exemption would mean that—” She struggled for a moment, then said, “I thought they wereyours.
“And if I took them in as evidence, they’d be in lock-up for all of five minutes. Then the Caste Court would drop a collective screeching flock on the Hawklord’s head, and he’d be forced to hand them over. Either that, or one of the Aerian Hawks—a different one—would lose his job.”
Margot exhaled, and her eyes lost a bit of blue, as if she was remembering that she was off-duty here. “You’re right about the latter.”
“If you don’t want any of them, I’ll turn them in.” She hesitated.
Moran stared at the bracelet—only the bracelet. “It’s not mine,” she finally said. “Thepraevolowears it—but when thepraevolodies, it comes back to the flights. It’s preserved. If there were some way to choose thepraevolo, it might be different. But there isn’t. Or there hasn’t been.”
Kaylin held the bracelet out. The familiar inched down her arm and sniffed it as if it were food. She wasn’t expecting him to bite it.
He did.
Chapter 11
Moran, clearly unfamiliar with the small dragon, raised a brow but said nothing. Kaylin, however, shrieked.
“What are youdoing?” She grabbed the familiar; his little jaws were a lot stronger than they appeared. He was attached to the bracelet, and he had no intention—at this specific moment—of letting go of it. He did squawk; the sound was even less impressive than it usually was, because his mouth was otherwise full.
Moran’s eyes, which had been a kind of Barrani blue, narrowed in mild confusion. “You think he’s going to harm it?”
“I’m sure that’s not what he means to do,” she said.
“Which means yes.”
“Which means his idea of harmful and our idea of harmful probably don’t really overlap much, yes.” To the familiar, she said, “Do not do anything to destroy this bracelet.”
Moran, however, seemed much more accepting of the general idea. “I didn’t take the bracelet. In theory, the dar Carafel still have it. If something happens to it—on their watch—it’s not going to reflect badly on me.” And she smiled. The smile had Leontine in it, absent the teeth.
“He’s not trying to destroy it, dear,” Helen’s disembodied voice added.
Moran didn’t even tense. She’d become accustomed to Helen—and Helen’s various intrusions—so quickly, it seemed natural. Or maybe it was just because she was mortal. Teela still found Helen uncomfortable. “Do you know what he’s trying to do?” the sergeant asked the empty air.
“I believe he’s examining it,” Helen replied.
“He can do that with his eyes.”
“Yes, in theory.”
“And in practice?”
“In practice, there’s something in the bracelet he’s not sure he likes.”
“Can you see it?”
“Not the same way, no.”
“Do you think it would be harmful to Moran to keep it?” Kaylin interjected.
