“I am not mortal,” the Arkon replied—before Kaylin could. She considered this significant enough that the outraged words that had been about to fall out of her mouth died. “I do not always understand the games that mortals play. But I understand something of loyalty and service, and it is my guess—and it is only a guess—that he intends to do so.” The Dragon exhaled smoke; none of it reached Nightshade. “You are correct, however. The damage your presence might do—to his cause—has already been done. Is your brother expecting you?”
“Not exactly.”
“But he knows you’re here,” the brother in question said.
Chapter 15
Annarion stood at the height of the foyer’s grand, curved staircase, just beneath the level of the ostentatious chandelier Helen had insisted was appropriate for their visitors. His face was pale, and his eyes were ringed; he looked very much like a mortal recovering from a significant bender.
More important at this very moment was that he didn’t look happy to see his brother.
The Arkon noticed as well; it would have been impossible not to. At least he’d left Mandoran behind.
“Hello, older brother,” a cheery voice said from up above on the second floor.
Or not.
“Are you guys done with dinner?” Mandoran asked. He was the only Barrani Kaylin had ever met who spoke almost exclusively in Elantran, her mother tongue. She was fine with it; the Barrani Hawks at the office often slid into Elantran when looking for appropriate phrases. She could see that neither the Arkon nor Lord Nightshade considered it a plus.
“Not yet,” Kaylin told him as he appeared at the head of the stairs, a few steps up from Annarion. They shared no blood, no family line, but they were more kin than Annarion and Nightshade, who did.
Annarion turned a glare on Mandoran. Kaylin had no doubt that he also had words—but he kept those words private. It was Mandoran who usually dragged the rest of them into that private conversation by answering the unspoken out loud.
“What?” he said, continuing this trend as he met Annarion’s chilly glare.
“Perhaps,” the Arkon told the foyer at large, “we will attempt to convene an informal, intimate dinner at a third location. This one appears to have become dangerously crowded.” He turned, and then turned back. “It is dangerous when dream becomes reality, Calarnenne. But I, too, have had the lost returned to me. It has complicated my life enormously—but it has given me both hope and joy.”
Kaylin highly doubted that there was much joy to be found between Nightshade and Annarion, but kept this to herself; Annarion’s glower made it clear enough that her words would have been superfluous.
Nightshade, however, looked surprised. As the older Dragon walked back toward the parlor, he said, “Thank you, Lannagaros.”
* * *
“You know him?” Mandoran asked, heading down the stairs and leaving Annarion frozen on them. “You met him after the end of the wars?”
“Between,” Nightshade replied, meeting Mandoran on the level of formality Mandoran had chosen.
“Between?”
“You did not fight in the wars,” Nightshade said, voice chilly. He was watching his brother. “But the war transformed you regardless. We fought. We survived.”
“He’s aDragon.”
“Yes. Good of you to notice.” He exhaled. “After the second war, there were no dreams of glory left in those of us who had survived. The Dragons destroyed much of our ancient lands—and we, in turn, destroyed their clutches, their flights. But we did not do so for our own individual purposes. We were commanded, and for the most part, we obeyed. Those who did not...” He shrugged. “The practice of making outcastes differs greatly among the various races. The Barrani model is more similar to the human one than any other.
“Lannagaros and I had much in common. Were it not for the war, we might have done our exploration, our researches, side by side. He is learned and knowledgeable in ways that I am not. He was a formidable opponent; he was cunning, canny and unpredictable.
“At the remove of centuries, that Dragon and I have more in common than I have with most of the Barrani of my acquaintance. We have shared similar experiences, have experienced similar losses. I almost killed him once,” he added, smiling. “It taught us both respect.”
“I am never going to understand my own people,” was Mandoran’s almost morose reply. “Helen said we can use the small dining room.”
Kaylin wasn’t aware that they had one.
“We didn’t, technically,” Helen said. Nightshade was not a guest in the way the Dragons or the Hawklord were. And Mandoran and Annarion were residents. “It is a small room meant for family, and was used for regular meals. We don’t use it often because at the moment, the house is so full; it’s not very roomy.” Her disembodied voice paused. “Mandoran, I don’t think your presence is needed.”
“Of course it’s not,” was his cheerful reply.
“I don’t think it’s actually wanted, dear.”
