“Arkon, Darranatos.” She bowed. It was stiff and graceless, but the end posture would probably have garnered no more than perfunctory criticism from Diarmat. “Welcome.”
The Arkon offered her a shallow bow; the Emperor merely nodded. He did, however, bow to Helen.
* * *
It was customary, Helen had told Kaylin as she had dressed, to invite guests to take tea—or something stronger—when they first arrived.
“But they’re coming here for dinner,” Kaylin had pointed out while fussing with her hair, “not tea.”
“Dinner generally takes a while, and there’s usually some polite socializing before people are seated for the meal.”
Drug addicts, pushers, and frauds were a more welcome part of Kaylin’s day than polite socializing.
“You socialize all the time, dear.”
“We lounge around the dining room table because it’s the biggest, and we mostly trade insults and whining,” Kaylin had pointed out. “And offending anyone at my breakfast table isn’t career-limiting. I have to care what these guests think of me.”
“They are not going to harm you in your own home. It would be a disgraceful breach of etiquette.”
“And impossible, because you’re my home.”
“I am talking about their behavior, not my own—but yes, if it somehow came to that, they would not be able to harm you. There is nothing you could do that would necessitate that.”
So Kaylin now invited the two Dragons to sit in the parlor. It had changed both size and shape. Helen frequently adjusted spaces as she deemed necessary. Kaylin wondered what people without Helen did, but she knew. They didn’t have the bloody Emperor as an informal guest.
Helen, however, rescued Kaylin by taking on the duties of a servant. She didn’t instruct Kaylin in the pouring of tea or the offering of drinks or anything else; she did that all herself. Kaylin should have appreciated it more, but the menial and necessary tasks would have given her something todoother than feeling awkward and incompetent.
She was rescued by the arrival, minutes later, of the Hawklord. In theory, Helen was to answer the door and lead the new guests in; in practice, Kaylin leapt to her feet, grateful to leave the awkward, silent room. When she was almost at the door, Bellusdeo drifted down the stairs. She stopped, her eyes shifting into the color of Dragon surprise.
“Is that you, Kaylin?”
Kaylin said, “Answering the door now. Are you sure Moran isn’t coming?”
“I’m absolutely positive. Is that dress new? I’ve never seen it before.”
“And I wish that had continued.”
“It’s very striking, and it suits you.”
“It doesn’t suit me at all—”
“Kaylin, dear. The door,” Helen’s disembodied voice said. To Bellusdeo, she added, “Kaylin is nervous because she is not accustomed to guests.”
“I have guests living with me all the time,” Kaylin pointed out, as she reached the closed front doors.
“Yes and no, dear. They are technically guests, but you treat them very much as if they were family. Siblings. You are not used toguests.”
Bellusdeo, however, said, “Let me entertain the Dragons while you greet the new arrival.” She didn’t look nervous. At all. Kaylin was too grateful to feel resentful.
* * *
The Hawklord was waiting at the door. He was not dressed as the Hawklord; he was entirely more colorful, although not as colorful as Moran’s ceremonial garb had been. He wasn’t wearing a dress, but the vest that overlay the long, belled sleeves of an emerald green shirt ended a good six inches below his knees. The vest itself was a mixture of purple and blues, with gold stitching, gold trim and white interlaced ribbons.
Only his boots looked normal, for a value of normal that involved the Emperor, the Arkon and the Hawklord at the same table.
Lord Grammayre smiled as he no doubt correctly read her expression. “Kaylin.”
“Lord Grammayre.” She remembered to bow. It was not as stiff a bow as the one she’d offered the Dragons. If she wasn’t at home with the Hawklord, she was vastly more comfortable in his presence. He’d seen her at her absolute worst, and had found it in himself to make the beginnings of a home for her.
