“As foryou, what was that? Whatexactlywas that? The Consort is the most elevated of all ranks—did you think you were going toshake her hand?”
Kaylin had survived her early life by causing as little offense as she possibly could. Invisibility was a state she’d desired. She’d survived her later life because she was a Hawk and she had friends. She could survivenowbecause she had Helen—a home of her own, pretty much until death. At this very moment she was trying to hold on to all three of these experiences because the desire to either shout at Sedarias—or strangle her—was becoming harder and harder to resist.
Helen didn’t intervene, which made clear that she didn’t consider Sedarias’s lessons dangerous. Or possibly that she agreed.
I certainly do, Ynpharion said. She would have raged—silently—at him because he was a safe target, but his internal voice held no smugness, no sense of the usual superiority. He was worried. He was worried for the Consort, not for Kaylin, of course—but he considered Sedarias’s manner and instruction to be utterly necessary.
She wondered what it must have been like to be raised as Barrani, and swallowed.
I survived. But, Kaylin, I would not have survived were I as ill-mannered as you. The Consort is indulgentbecauseyou are mortal. Or perhaps because you are Chosen. It signifies little to the Court; her indulgence of a beloved cat would be considered similar. You are not, and will never be, what Sedarias is desperately trying to make you. But if the Consort is indulgent, she is the only one.
What do you mean you wouldn’t have survived?
I would have been considered a black stain upon the whole of my family. In order to remove that stain, they would have removed me. If your Helen permits, I will attempt to offer advice when the Consort arrives.
And if the Consort permits?
And if the Consort permits.There was a flicker of doubt in the words that she very seldom heard from Ynpharion.
You think she won’t?
I think, if your concern is the welfare of the people you have chosen to befriend, youmustobey Sedarias in matters of deportment.
By dinner, the cohort had finished with Diarmat’s report. It had caused some argument and some disagreement. Teela’s actual, centuries-long experience was given more weight by the cohort than the documents offered by the Imperial service, but Teela was willing to trust the Imperial service’s observations. This clearly rankled the cohort, but not Kaylin; it was a Hawk’s view. Tain said almost nothing, although he looked with interest through the reports about Teela’s family, Danelle.
He, like Kaylin, needed to read everything on his own; he was not part of the cohort, and did not have access to their memories or their perceptions.
Serralyn, for instance, had read maybe a third of the reports. She hadn’t involved herself in the argument that Helen had chosen to relocate. Or at least, she’d kept her interaction to words that Kaylin couldn’t hear. Karian, of those involved in the argument, had become the most silent, the most withdrawn.
What this meant in practical terms, however, was that he was now glued to Serralyn’s side, eyes closed, head flopped on her shoulder and the back of her neck. She didn’t appear to notice.
No, Kaylin thought, that wasn’t true. She did notice, but it was so natural to her it required no response. Marcus’s kits had been like this when they were young—piles of interconnected fur of different shades, breathing evenly together, as if they shared a single set of lungs.
The only time Serralyn looked up was when Terrano shifted in place and the chair made the faintest of noises. She didn’t speak. Her glance returned to the written High Barrani in her hands. But Allaron sighed, gathered the documents he appeared to have barely started and dragged Terrano toward where Serralyn was sitting.
“Helen?” Allaron said.
“I feel it best to maintain a table,” Helen replied. “The documents in question are of some value to Lord Diarmat and, as much as they can be, should be handled with care. But let me alter the dining room slightly to better suit your needs.”
Terrano was flushed. He glared at Allaron and attempted to remove the hand on his upper arm. It was like trying to move rock. Kaylin knew Terrano could escape if he really wanted to.
“It is not actually that simple,” Helen said in a gentle voice. “Not where Allaron is concerned.”
“Because he’s larger and stronger?”
Helen smiled. “It’s because he’s stronger, yes—but his size has nothing to do with it. If he must be characterized at all in regard to his position within the cohort, he’s the anchor. He’s the foundation, the stability.”
Mr. Stability dragged Terrano to where Karian and Serralyn were now sitting—Helen had literally moved them to an enlarged corner of the room in which a carpet and several pillows and throws had been haphazardly dropped.
“You can’t help us by reading this,” Allaron told Terrano.
“It’s useless to me,” was Terrano’s mutinous reply.
“It’s not useless to the rest of us. And neither are you. You’ve been gone too long. Now sit down and let the rest of us expire from boredom.” He dropped Terrano more or less in Karian’s lap, and Karian opened one eye—the left eye—and then wrapped an arm around Terrano before Terrano could pick himself up.
“You’re warm,” he said.
Terrano grimaced. “Karian—”
