Darn. I was hoping you’d get the lecture out of her system before we get home.
Willing to die for you.
But there are fates worse than death?
Pretty much.
* * *
Bellusdeo was not angry. She was—to Kaylin’s eye—both alert and amused. The former made perfect sense. The latter, not so much.
Although both Barrani lords were blue-eyed, they seemed to take their cues from the Dragon; they were as relaxed as their eye color indicated they could be. Terrano appeared to be clueless, but that might be unfair; he was keeping Spike company. The familiar was draped, once again, across Kaylin’s shoulders. He looked, if anything, bored.
Alsanis opened the doors at the end of the great hall, and led the small delegation into the Hallionne’s interior. There, he escorted them through arches that seemed too slender to actually bear the weight of ceiling for long, and into a small dining room. Or parlor. If the latter, it was a Barrani space; it opened to sky. It didn’t open to the sky of the West March, however.
“I don’t know why you’re so annoyed,” Bellusdeo said to Kaylin, as she took a wide comfortable chair.
“I don’t know why you’re not.”
“Dragon. This is not my natural domain, and the Barrani here are, in theory, somewhat old school. We’re all Immortal, and we all have long, long memories.”
“Someone wants you dead.”
“And this is news how? It won’t be the first time an attempt has been made. Oddly, I find it refreshing.”
Kaylin stared at her. On her shoulder, the familiar snorted.
“It isn’t subtle. It’s full-on, out in the open, hostility. It isn’t my fault, and it isn’t my responsibility. It is also, you must admit, somewhat clever; they had little time to craft a response to my arrival—and although forced to react with speed, they also did so with intelligence.” She smiled, showing elongated teeth, a sign that she wasn’t as sanguine as she sounded. “My own kin would just fly down and scorch the earth and everything that surrounded it.”
“The Emperor—”
“My kin, not his.” Tea appeared; it was the tea that Helen habitually made. Although the decor was nothing like the interior Helen had created—at least for the rooms Kaylin had free access to—Alsanis was attempting, as he could, to make them feel at home. Given the situation, she appreciated his attempt, but felt it was misguided.
“Look,” she finally said, turning to Lirienne, “was this your idea?”
His smile, like Bellusdeo’s, was martial but otherwise undisturbed. “Were it, do you think I would have escorted you to Alsanis? He is the only guarantee of Lord Bellusdeo’s safety in the West March.”
“That’s not a no.”
“If it will calm you at all, no. This was not my idea. And while I admire Lord Bellusdeo’s point of view, I myself feel far less sanguine about it.”
It was Nightshade who spoke next, not Ynpharion, as Kaylin had almost expected.He will not be sanguine. To summon a war band is the act of a lord, not a liege; If this truly did not originate with the Lord of the West March, someone has attempted to usurp his authority.
You wouldn’t be as calm?
Ah, you mistake me. I would, of course, appear to be as calm. There is nothing to be gained by exposing either anger or pain; were there, we would do so. Bellusdeo is not, in my view, actually angry; she is resigned and even amused. Lirienne isangry.
And Lord Barian?
I am...less familiar with Lord Barian.
Kaylin glared at her shoulder. “You didn’t have to show up as a giant Dragon, you know.”
“It is perhaps a blessing,” Bellusdeo said, before Kaylin could launch into a lecture.
“How?”
“He is your familiar. To those of power, in both the High Court and the West March, his status is understood. He took the form of an actual Dragon with his own unusual coloring, and if you recall, caused quite a stir. If politics with words alone are to be effective, there is now room to explain a possible ‘misunderstanding.’ Everyone involved can, if it is desired, save face.”
