“Could I have done this to Bellusdeo?” It was the heart of her fear. She knew what she was like when she was in a bitter, despair-fueled rage. And people who had those shouldn’thavethe power to do what she was now certain he was telling her to do.
“No. She is wed to her name, bound to it. It is where it should be. Her desire has never been to escape the truth of herself.”
No. She wanted tobeherself. And as the only female Dragon, the only person who could propagate a race, she couldn’t. Kaylin stared at the name that was closest to her; it was the name she had tried to dust free of what appeared to be living cobwebs.
These would not be the first people she had killed in her life. They wouldn’t be the first people she’d killed since she’d crossed the bridge. But...killing in a fury of red rage was not the same as killing this way; slitting a person’s throat wasn’t the same as stabbing them from the front while they were trying to kill her.
Ynpharion.
Lord Kaylin.
Would it have been better—for you—if I had killed you instead of taking your name?
How would you have managed to accomplish that?
Just pretend I could. Would it have been better?
His frustration was an endless well; it threatened to become a geyser.Why must everything devolve into permission with you? If youcankill them, kill them. We do not have the time—
Killing a person. Enslaving a person. Both were bad—but she’d done both before. If the situations were different, the end result was the same: death or enslavement.
Kaylin’s shoulders sagged. Hope placed a hand on one of them, and she felt a jolt of warmth, of something that was almost like the essence of home. “Why can’t you do this?” she asked, because asking put off the decision for a few minutes.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “This is not my power, Kaylin. It is yours. It is the power of the marks of the Chosen, funneled through the person who now carries them. They are wed to you; nothing you do here could not, in the end, be donebyyou. It requires no sacrifice. Were I not here, you would still be in this space; you would still see the words clearly.”
“And I could take them.”
“And you could take them.” Voice gentle, he said, “Decide, but decide quickly. I will not judge you for either decision. Nor would your companions.”
“It’s not their judgment I’m worried about.”
“Yes. You must live with yourself, regardless.”
Kaylin exhaled. The Ferals, attached somehow to a greater well of Shadow, were probably already enslaved. Probably. Maybe. It was a justification, an excuse. Ynpharion as Feral had not been Ynpharion as Barrani. Any thought of the Shadow, any thought of the people who had taught him how to live in a “less restricted” way, enraged him. He would not choose to go back to what he had been.
You would have killed me, had you realized you could.
Yes. Yes, she would have. But she’d done what she’d done to save her own skin while attempting to save Orbaranne. And, she thought as she forced her shoulders into a more upright position, she’d do what she did because she was attempting to reach the cohort. Annarion. Mandoran. Prickly, autocratic Sedarias. She’d do it because the Consort was with her, and Teela, and Severn. She wouldn’t let Nightshade die, either, if she could prevent it.
She reached out with her left hand, caught the name andlistened.
Chapter 23
In the darkness of Shadow and gold, Kaylin listened to the syllables, which were blurred and indistinct if even a hint of stray thought intruded. The sound of breathing, even her own, fell away; she could hear no internal voices. She listened, until the only sound she could hear was a name.
Edelonne.
As Ynpharion had, he fought. Hemoved, leaping toward her, although he also remained in place, beneath her hand. It was disorienting enough that she ignored it, although Teela’s raised voice could be heard, regardless.
Edelonne.
Speaking the name, saying it, was like the rumble of thunder, but syllabic. Light stabbed her right eye—or something like light—and she held on to the name as he attempted to rush across it to reverse the direction of the control. It was like trying to hold on to a horse, and was the entirety of the reason that Kaylin had never taken well to riding lessons. Luckily, horseback was only required for the Swords. It wasrecommendedfor Hawks.
She shouldn’t be thinking about anything but Edelonne now, but in a perverse way, it helped. It grounded Kaylin. It centered her, for the moment, in the life and the responsibilities she’d chosen. She was a Hawk. Private Kaylin Neya.
And Edelonne was a man who, for whatever reasons, had chosen to join the Barrani who even now conspired against the cohort, against her friends and—probably in ignorance—against the Consort, who brought life to them all.
Guilt left. Doubt fled. She held on to the name in a grip that was tight enough it restricted all movement. It struggled to evade; it was like trying to hold on to a glowing snake. A poisonous snake that she had by the head; if she didn’t hold on, it was going to be costly.
