No, it seemed to imply that Teela was the head of her line. A line name she did not use. Technically, then, shewasAn’Danelle. And working as an Imperial Hawk. Kaylin understood that every Barrani family of note had a ruler, a leader. It was not that different from mortal, or at least human, families.
But the rest? Had never been relevant. She had a queasy feeling it wasallgoing to be relevant soon. And she remembered that the Hawks, or at least the Hawklord, never, ever sent her to site investigations that required diplomacy and tact. Or Diarmat’s punishing school of proper etiquette.
Putting Teela’s and Sedarias’s anger aside, Kaylin took a look at the documents Sedarias hadn’t yet demanded.
After perusing too many pages of High Barrani, she realized that she didn’t know the families or lines from which most of the cohort came. That was going to have to change.
Sedarias was simple: she was Mellarionne. She wasn’t the head of her line, and she intended to change that. She had killed her sister—also not the head of her line, but probably working in league with her brother, who was. Probably. Kaylin had been an only child. Had Kaylin been born Barrani, she’d probably never have longed for siblings.
Annarion... She frowned. She was certain she’d heard his family name at some point, and since that family was the contentious issue between Annarion and his brother, she should remember it. She didn’t.
“Solanace,” Helen said quietly. “I don’t believe he would be discomfited if you knew, or if I reminded you.”
“He’s not,” Sedarias said, although she didn’t look up from her reading. “I think Teela has his family’s section.”
“I do.”
“Who’s An’Solanace? And are they at Court?”
There was a long silence. It was long enough to be uncomfortable, and no movement punctuated it, which often happened when the cohort discussed an issuebeforesomeone opened their mouth. No, this was the silence of held breath. She had asked the wrong question.
“It is not the wrong question,” Helen said softly. “But, Kaylin, it is at the heart of the conflict between Lord Nightshade and his brother.”
“I thought the conflict was that Nightshade abandoned his family—but it washis familythat kind of threw Annarion away.”
“It was the head of his family, yes,” Helen agreed. She paused, and silence descended once again. This time, there was more expression in it.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It is relevant. And if you read the documents concerning Solanace, you will understand why.”
Kaylin held out a hand. Teela, who had the document section, failed to move.
It was, as usual, Mandoran who picked up the broken thread of what had been a very pragmatic conversation until Kaylin’s question. Kaylin jumped. Until he spoke, she hadn’t realized he’d entered the room. Terrano followed. In ones and twos, so did the rest of the cohort.
The dining room was now a war room, with paper rather than place settings. The color of Barrani eyes was blue.
“Karellan was Annarion’s uncle. He was ambitious; he had considerable power of his own. But he was of the line Solanace, and inasmuch as any ambitious man, he served its interests. After all, weakening the line you hope to take over is not doing your future self any favors.” This last was said without apparent bitterness.
“Annarion’s father died—honorably—during the wars. That’s the story we’re told. Then again, all deaths are honorable among the Barrani.” Terrano snorted. Sedarias looked like she wanted to. Mandoran ignored both, with the ease of long practice. “Nightshade became An’Solanace. There’d be no argument between Annarion and his brother if Nightshade had remained An’Solanace. None. Annarion believed that his brother was the better man in every way. Reckless, yes, but always for a purpose. Annarion would have come home, and he would have been happy. Nightshade would have welcomed him home without hiding a dagger behind his back or a new supply of poison.”
Kaylin looked to Annarion, whose head was now bent just enough that she couldn’t easily meet his gaze.
“Karellan thought that Nightshade was his superior, as well. He was a better man than his father had been. He had earned one of the three. He was liked and respected. Solanace was Nightshade’s far more securely than it had ever been his father’s.”
Annarion had stiffened. Mandoran now turned to Teela. “You were there for the rest. We weren’t. And even now, all we’ve got is Annarion’s anger. Oh, and an earful of Nightshade’s, as well.”
“If it isn’t obvious,” Sedarias added before Teela could speak, “we were all shocked by Annarion’s anger. We understood that his view of his older brother was possibly not entirely realistic. Annarion has never been as angry, in our years of captivity, as he has been under your roof.”
“Because Nightshade is here.”
“Because Nightshade is here.”
“But... Nightshade became outcaste...”
Teela said, “Yes. He was obsessed with Annarion—with his lost brother. He joined the Arcanum. He left the Arcanum. He traveled. He entered the fiefs—not as fieflord—and returned. He wished to understand the nature of the Hallionne, and also the nature of the green. Some of his travels, some of his research, some of his defiance of the High Lord—the former High Lord—rankled.
“And during the time that he did his research, Karellan remained at home.”
