Kaylin wanted to ask him if it was safe, but didn’t. She reminded herself that safety was the illusion and the dream. Instead, she said, “Give me your wing for a sec.”
The familiar lifted his wing—without smacking her face with it. To her eyes, the bracelet looked the same through the wing. She saw no trace of Shadow in or around it. She had no idea what the familiar had been trying to eat or chew at, but it didn’t matter anyway. Moran had spoken in her sergeant voice.
She handed Moran the bracelet.
Moran put it on.
Kaylin could hear it snap shut; the sound echoed off the stones of the open-air spring. But her skin didn’t ache. The marks didn’t begin to glow. Moran didn’t transform. She was a naked Aerian woman, partially submerged in hot water, the edges of her hair wet, her eyes a striking blue. And she was wearing an old, colorful bracelet.
“I hope it’s waterproof,” Kaylin said. She waited before adding, “Do you feel any different?”
The Aerian sergeant deflated. “No.”
“Sometimes,” Helen said quietly, “regalia is just that. All of its power resides in the symbolism. I am sorry,” she added.
“You’ve made a home for me that I thought I’d never see again,” Moran replied. “You’ve kept me safe. You’ve told me nothing but truth. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“It’s not considered good manners to tell people truths they haven’t asked to hear.”
Moran’s smile was brief, but genuine. “No, it isn’t. But you’re Kaylin’s home, and while Kaylin is valued for many things, good manners aren’t one of them.”
“My manners are better than they used to be,” Kaylin protested.
“Vastly better,” Moran agreed. She stood. Water ran instantly off her wings, but the rest of her required towels. Helen didn’t magically appear to hand them to her, but Kaylin was closer, and did.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to sleep,” Moran replied. “And then I’m going to wake up, eat breakfast, and go to the Halls in the morning.”
“You’re certain? You said you were taking a leave—”
“I’ve changed my mind.” She grimaced as if at old pain. “Helen is probably right. About me. About how I feel about my own people.”
“And dinner?”
The Aerian Hawk winced.“I’ll come to dinner, if the Emperor allows it.”
“He said it was a casual meal—”
“The Imperial version ofcasualwas out of my reach when I was growing up. And angry Aerians have nothing on angry Dragons.”
* * *
Kaylin did not sleep well. The familiar spent the entire night nattering in his sleep—and smacking Kaylin in the face with his wings. And his tail. The fourth time she woke up, she considered opening a window and dropping him out of it.
Helen considered that idea to be unwise and unkind.
“If I haven’t done it yet, I’m not likely to start—but we all have to have daydreams.”
She woke, dressed, checked to make certain there were no emergency mirror messages waiting in Helen’s queue, and headed down the stairs. She remembered, halfway down, that she was still in possession of the blessing of air, and forgot it again five steps later.
Annarion was shouting.
Had he been shouting at Mandoran, she would have grimaced, massaged her temples—she was working on a headache—and continued toward the breakfast room. Unfortunately, the voice that returned that shout in both volume and length was not Mandoran’s.
“No, dear,” Helen said, her voice more subdued than usual. “Lord Nightshade is here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
