“She does wish to spend some time in discussion with the Arkon, but the reasons are not political. Ah. Before you answer me, I have taken some caution to say this only to you—which is perhaps why the color of my eyes is flickering.”
“Kaylin?” the Consort then prompted.
Wary now, Kaylin nodded. “I know what you’re afraid of. And yes, I was lying. If it weren’t for Helen, I’d be a lot more terrified. But I’m not watching my back. I’m certain they’re not plotting to kill me or rob me or head out into the streets to destroy my city and break all the laws.”
“And if I invited them to the High Halls?”
“No.” Kaylin folded her arms.
“No?”
“I trust that you wouldn’t harm them.” This was true. “But I do not trust that that’s true of anyone else in the High Halls. If you’ve spoken to Alsanis—and I don’t doubt that you have—you understand the material risks.”
“They will need to come to the High Halls to undertake the Test of Name.”
Kaylin nodded.
“They cannot arrive in the High Halls with a Dragon escort.” She then turned to Bellusdeo. “You have my profound gratitude, for what little it is worth. Understand that among my people, one must volunteer to become Consort, to become the mother of our race. We are tried and we are culled. The culling is not particularly compassionate; the trials kill many.
“But for all that, we have choice. The very first test was to make that choice. It was what my family wanted, of course. It was what my mother had chosen. It has a prestige and an import to the Barrani that no other title can grant. I didn’t understand that it was a test until I saw how many failed it. But that single test took no lives, not directly. Those who could not answer affirmatively were simply turned away.
“You, however, have not taken that test. You have not been asked to choose your fate; you have not been asked to become what you must become if your race is to have a future.”
“Do not pity me.” Bellusdeo’s eyes were orange.
“I do not.” The Consort bowed her head for one long beat. When she lifted it, her eyes were blue. “I will never attempt to harm you, who are the mother of her future race, as I am the mother of mine. I swear it, and will swear it, under any oath-binding you wish to demand. I will allow none of my kin to harm you, where I have prior knowledge. I will not allow—”
“No,” Teela said, stepping into the room. She was wearing a loose shift that would not be at home in the Halls of Law, but would not be at home at Court, either. The color was, however, the same green. “You will not involve yourself further. The matter of a Dragon’s attack in the West March is a matter of and for the High Court, and, my Lady, you are of the High Court because of your import to theBarrani. Not to the wars they hope to start, not to the politics they play.”
Ynpharion had withdrawn completely. Teela’s words barely penetrated the surface of his mind; it had grown almost numb with outrage and disbelief. Helen did not need to tell Kaylin that the Consort did not offer to make a binding oath, and the Barrani lords did not tell the Consort what to do. But she couldn’t feel Ynpharion’s outrage as her own; it was no part of how she viewed the Consort.
And how did she, in the end, view the Consort? One part terror, one part longing, one part confusion. This was the woman who had left her kneeling for the entirety of a Barrani dinner, while everyone else got to eat.But she didn’t make me kneel; I did that.This was the woman who had openly hugged her in the Barrani Court, whose eyes showed unfettered delight at the approach of a mortal, grubby Hawk. This was the woman who had been willing to doom what remained of theNorannirrace because to allow them into the city was also to court the awareness of the Devourer.
And the Devourer destroyed worlds.
This was the woman who had offered them all the safety of the Hallionne—but had intended to build that Hallionne into yet another prison for the cohort that Kaylin had been brought to the West March to rescue.
“Were you, dear?” Helen asked, her eyes a misty gray.
She managed to bite down on an answer that would make no sense—or that she hoped would make no sense—to her guests. Shehadrescued the cohort. But the elemental water had sent her to the West March because of the great danger the water felt—a danger Kaylin did not and could not perceive in the same way. What if the water meant the cohort itself was the danger? That the cohort was the terriblewrongnessin the fabric of the world?
She remembered the first time Mandoran had visited the Keeper’s garden, then. She remembered the water’s reaction to Mandoran; it had attempted to drown him, and the agitation of the water had flooded the entirety of Evanton’s house—outside of the theoretical containment of the garden itself.
What if?
The Consort was afraid of what the cohort might become when faced with the Adversary beneath the High Halls. She was afraid that they could fail that test, and become the agents that the Shadow needed to destroy...everything, really. And Kaylin could admit, with growing unease, that the fear was grounded in fact.
It wasn’t about intention; Kaylin believed viscerally that the cohort would never willingly harm the Barrani or her city.
“But Terrano almost did,” Helen said softly.
“That was before!” Kaylin cringed as every set of eyes in the room swiveled toward her. She also reddened.
The Consort, however, did not seem surprised. The Arkon’s eyes were gold-orange. Bellusdeo had raised one brow, but no one spoke.
“Why don’t you go and change, as well,” Helen said. “The Consort is already attired for a more casual setting, as is the Arkon. Bellusdeo?”
“If things become...difficult...most of the clothing I wear is irrelevant,” the Dragon replied, smiling. It was a very Leontine smile.
