“And it was actually useful, unlike most jewelry.”
Lord Emmerian rose and bowed to Bellusdeo; Kaylin suspected it was because he was fighting to keep his smile from becoming all-out laughter. Bellusdeo, however, didn’t bother. She laughed. “There are subtle uses for much jewelry, and the tiaras of the Arcanum are, as you said, actually useful to their wearers. But...yes, most jewelry is a statement, a bit of color.” She was wearing the medallion, but it had not left her palm. “Lord Emmerian, I thank you. You are a Lord of the Dragon Court, and it cannot be often that you are sent as an errand runner.”
“Far more often than you think,” Emmerian replied. “But I understand the purpose of the errands I am asked to run, and in the end feel that they are necessary.”
Kaylin attempted to imagine Diarmat running errands, and failed spectacularly.
“Yes, perhaps. If Lannagaros was not to deliver these in person, they could not simply be handed to the Imperial messenger service. He trusts you,” she added.
“Yes. But, Bellusdeo, he trusts every member of the Dragon Court. It is a small Court, smaller even than the smallest of Flights during the ancient wars, but given the nature of the Emperor’s hoard, those who comprise the Court must be trustworthy. Arguments cannot be resolved in the manner of old; it would destroy or damage what he has built.
“And what you,” he added softly, turning to Kaylin, “and your mortal kin have built.”
Bellusdeo said something; it was lost to a roar of pure rage.
Helen’s Avatar froze as she abandoned it. Abandoning it, on the other hand, meant that thewholeof her house’s attention was focused elsewhere. Bellusdeo all but ran toward the dining room; Kaylin followed.
Or she would have followed, but Emmerian grabbed her arm.
“I’ll be safe.”
“It’s not your safety that I wish to speak of. I wish to extend my gratitude.”
She blinked.
“Thank you for accepting the Arkon’s gift. Thank you for allowing Bellusdeo to likewise accept what otherwise might be almost humiliating for her.”
“Not humiliating. Shelikesthe Arkon.”
His expression shifted. “Yes. She does. But she was Emperor, in her world. It was hers to protect, to safeguard, to fight for. She failed. It is gone. She has been reduced, here and now, to someone who can no longer do any of the things for which she trained. She protectsyou, Chosen. She is still searching for a different life on which to build.”
Kaylin frowned, her brow furrowing. After a long pause, she looked up at Emmerian. “Does the Emperor consider the palace guard to be an embarrassment?”
“No, of course not.”
“The mostly human, very mortal palace guard?”
Lord Emmerian’s brows rose slightly, as did the corner of his lips. “No.”
“Then Bellusdeo shouldn’t consider the protection offered by those who are somehow weaker embarrassing.”
“And if we all managed to do what we logically should, the world—all worlds—would be a different place.” He bowed deeply. “I will see myself out if you wish to investigate.”
When Kaylin managed to get to the dining room, it was silent.
It wasn’t empty—but half of the cohort was missing. She cringed. “Training room?” she asked her absent house, without much hope.
“There was a stability problem,” Helen replied. Although she had a deadpan voice, this was a dead giveaway; the more neutral Helen sounded, the more frantic she was.
“‘Frantic’ is harsh. The word you want isconcerned.”
“What happened?”
“Tain joined the group and they were forced, for reasons of consideration, to have their arguments verbally.”
Ugh. Annarion and Nightshade had onlybarelystopped having their “verbal” arguments.
“What?” Mandoran said. He looked queasy, almost hungover. “You didn’t expect that with all of us under the same roof it’d getquieter?” He rolled his very blue eyes. Kaylin was almost surprised to see that he was still in the dining room. So was Annarion, but where Mandoran’s skin was a shade of yellow-green, Annarion’s was chalky.
