Silence.
This time, it was Kaylin who answered. “Yes. Right now there are only six active Dragons. Some of the Dragons who fought in the wars sleep; most are dead. But for centuries now there’s been no chance that the Dragons will increase in number. And the Barrani can, and have. If Bellusdeo had died during the last assassination attempt, I think things would have been quiet again. She didn’t.
“And that means those who want—or dream—of ruling this particular empire are looking at an increase in the Dragon population in the near future. So...it’s now or never.”
“We would, of course, prefer never.” It was Teela who spoke. “Unlike some of the younger members of the Court, I did fight in those wars. I was respected far and wide for my courage, my bravery, my...glory.” Kaylin had heard her curse in a tone that was vastly more respectful.
“You bear one of the three,” the Consort replied.
“And I do not intend to surrender it while this conflict brews.”
“And after?” When Teela failed to reply, the Consort smiled. “Even so. Calarnenne gained prestige during the wars; he, too, carries one of the three, and he, too, will not be parted from it save by his death. His death would be vastly more difficult to achieve than even yours. And no, Annarion, your brother is not at risk. He is lord of one of the Towers, and his role is essential. You wish to take the Solanace seat that you feel he abandoned.
“He did not abandon it. He was driven from it by my grandfather. But, Annarion, you must know: you are the last of your name. Although your ancestral lands exist, although they are claimed and protected, they are not now known asofSolanace. If you wish peace with your kin, you might adopt the name Coravalle.”
“I am Solanace.”
“Yes. You are. If you are made outcaste, Solanace will die. It was thought dead before Lord Kaylin found you all in the green. But Solanace was more than a name, and everything about the family you knew is now in the hands of Coravalle. Coravalle is not ancient; it does not have the history of Solanace. Your uncle must have feared your brother beyond all reasonable measure.”
Annarion did not reply.
Helen did. “If you are not hungry, dinner can be modified into lighter fare; it can be served later; it can be missed entirely. I do not believe anyone in this room has much of an appetite at the moment. Except possibly Kaylin.”
In the end, the Consort requested light refreshments, a light meal; she also asked that Helen offer that slighter meal in less a confined, restricted space. Helen glanced at Kaylin—which, as it wasn’t necessary, was probably done to make a point—and Kaylin immediately gave permission; she was curious to see what Helen would now consider appropriate.
Sedarias made a decision, and asked that she be excused; that her mode of attire was not appropriate for a casual, informal space. She did not ask on behalf of the cohort, and the cohort was scattershot in their attempt to do the same; some asked, and some fled the parlor.
Terrano would have stayed, but Allaron, at some unheard command, almost literally dragged him out of the room, leaving only the Dragons, the mortals and the Consort.
“You like these people,” the Consort said, turning to Kaylin.
“I consider three of them friends, and I consider the rest family to those three friends. Bellusdeo is also a friend; she came first, and she has every right to be here. Mandoran and Annarion like her, and I expect, with time, the others will like her, as well. So far none of the guests have tried to kill her, and she has not tried to reduce any of them to ash.”
“Do you trust them?”
“Yes.”
“Would you trust them were Helen not your home?”
“Yes.”
“Lord Kaylin—”
Kaylin held up a hand, palm out. “Look—can we just stop with that? If Helen is making a casual room for us and everyone else understands that means they can ditch the fancy, uncomfortable clothing, can we ditch the fancy, uncomfortable titles?”
To her side, Kaylin heard a slight cough, and froze.
The Arkon was, of course, in the room. She was so so so grateful that Diarmat was not. Bellusdeo’s face was turned slightly to the side, probably to hide her eye color or her expression.
“I am willing to ‘ditch,’ as you put it, the fancy, uncomfortable title. I will apologize to you for your...discomfort...in the outlands, and I swear to you that I did not intend to harm any of An’Teela’s friends. But I understand as much of their nature as the Hallionne Alsanis was willing to explain, and some containmentisrequired. Helen is a reasonable containment only so long as the cohort wishes to be contained.”
Helen didn’t argue.
Ynpharion was profoundly shocked and outraged. He was also worried. Very worried.
“Yes, dear,” Helen said quietly. Her house’s eyes were not quite their usual brown. “He is worried because the Consort does not tender apology to mortals or Dragons. Ever. If she is willing to do so—if she is willing to publicly debase herself—it means she intends none of you to survive.
“He is wrong. The Consort does not intend to destroy you; she has, in the past, greatly desired to strangle you—but so have Teela and Tain. Nor does she intend to destroy the cohort—at least not in the foreseeable future.
