Kaylin bit down on her first words—which was hard, because she was annoyed. She was also uncomfortably too aware of herself, because of everything else that had been said. She felt, as she sometimes did, like a total, complete failure.
Think. Just think. “You believe the Aerian Caste Court will put that forward as an explanation?”
His eyes shaded, for the first time, toward a much more prominent gold as he inclined his head. “It has already begun.”
Lord Grammayre’s eyes were what Kaylin privately referred to as Barrani blue. “Has it?”
“Indeed.”
“The Records transmission was embargoed.”
“Indeed.” The Emperor sounded bored, but he smiled. “Private Neya is on Records as having a strong sensitivity to magic and its use. We do not doubt you,” he added, his voice softer than it had been all evening. “We fully believe the man who spoke with the Elani merchant was human, as you do.
“But the Elani merchant was not, in our opinion, meant to survive her encounter.”
Kaylin didn’t even regret saving Margot’s life.
“She did, thanks to the intervention of the Hawks.” He turned now to Lord Grammayre. “I will block the remand to the Caste Court in this instance.” His smile was slender, sharper, but it still conveyed amusement. Kaylin decided that amusing the Emperor was career-threatening, because she probably wouldn’t survive it. “I will also point out that, although no formal complaint has been made, rumors abound that an item of great import to the Aerians has been stolen.”
Kaylin blinked. It took her about five seconds to understand what that item was, and then she was simply outraged.
Moran, however, although she was pale, was resolute. “It was not stolen,” she said, although the Emperor hadn’t actually named the item. “It belongs to me, while I live. That is the law of the Aerians. I am not dead; it is myrightto bear it.” She held up her hand in a clenched fist, and the bracelet she had donned slid down toward her elbow.
“Yes,praevolo, it is,” the Emperor replied. “I am conversant with the laws of the Aerians. It appears they are less conversant with Imperial Law. Grammayre,” he added. “You will find your information leak. But spread your net widely; it is likely, in my opinion, that the Aerian Hawks will not act against Moran dar Carafel at this point. She has declared herself.
“As has been proven, however, mortals are more than willing to accept the offer of coin for very unwise actions.” He finally turned to Bellusdeo, who had remained mostly silent—and golden-eyed, which was almost shocking—during the Emperor’s part of this discussion. “My apologies, Lord Bellusdeo. This is not what I envisaged when I requested the honor of a private, informal dinner.”
She smiled. She smiled in a way that did not expose fangs. If Kaylin’s eyes could change color, they’d have shifted all the way to whatever meant surprise in the race she’d otherwise have to be.
“It is not what I envisaged, either. But I find myself enjoying it far more than I have any encounter in the throne room. It has been both surprising and informative, and I have much to think about. No,” she added, her voice softening. “My kingdom was not my hoard. I have never felt that calling, that certainty of desire. But you have—and you have not let that desire or that calling madden you, as it historically has so many of our kin.
“Kaylin would be safe; she has Helen, she has me. She has, for at least a few years, Mandoran and Annarion. But she cannot live in isolation; being a Hawk is both what she does and who she is. If you would like, Your Majesty, I would be very much honored to dine with you again.”
The Emperor’s eyes shifted into a deep brown, the color of Dragon surprise. Kaylin had never seen it in him—as if his role as ruler had destroyed all ability to feel such an emotion. Or perhaps that was just her interpretation. She was a Hawk. She understood that the Hawks had hierarchy. Lord Grammayre did not stammer or curse, the way the rest of the rank and file could. He was their leader—and it wasn’t a nominal leadership.
Marcus cursed like a groundhawk, and frequently tore chunks out of his desk—he said it prevented him from tearing them out of his idiots. But he was sergeant, and when he gave orders, you obeyed them. Even if you weren’t a Hawk. Leontines of his size and weight made an instant impression on everyone mortal who had less in the way of fur and fangs.
It had never occurred to her that the people who ruled her working life were just like she was; that they could feel doubt or hesitation, that they did not know everything they needed to know, that they could—and probably did—make mistakes.
They gave orders, and she more or less followed them.
She needed that. She needed someone to make those decisions. She wasn’t without freedom of choice; she made decisions of her own when she was in the streets or in a situation that none of the rulebooks covered. Marcus expected her to, as he put it, use her head as something other than a pathetic battering ram.
But the big decisions, or rather, the long-term decisions, weren’t in her hands. All thebigdecisions about city-threatening events had been neatly tied into the visceral need to survive. There was thought in them, but it wasn’t the kind of thought that led to political entanglements.
She tried to imagine what her life would be like if she woke up tomorrow and she was the Hawklord. Or worse, the Emperor. She couldn’t do it. Everything in her rebelled. She didn’twantto be corporal so she could order the privates around. She wanted to be corporal because it meant she was valued and acknowledged by the people in her life who mattered.
She didn’t actually want to order people around at all. Because to do that, she would have to be responsible for them. It was a humbling, uncomfortable thought. What had the Emperor said? She was lazy? She cringed.
“Kaylin?” Bellusdeo said, in the tone that implied this was not the first time.
Kaylin blinked. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “I was thinking.”
“And I am certain,” the Arkon added—before anyone else could, but there probably would have been some competition, “that we do not wish to interrupt you when you are making an effort you seldom make. It is often difficult to think and talk simultaneously.” His eyes were, as they had been for most of the dinner, pure Dragon gold.
“What did I miss?” she asked, surrendering.
“Lord Bellusdeo—”
