“But what if I—”
“Yes?”
Kaylin swallowed. “I don’t really understand how I came to hold Ynpharion’s name. I don’t want to do that to anyone I—to anyone who isn’t trying to murder people. And I can’t let go of the name now. I have no idea how to release it, and the usual suggestions—all of which involve my death—aren’t really appealing.”
“The Emperor will not execute you,” Bellusdeo said, her eyes darkening and narrowing as she correctly guessed part of Kaylin’s fear.
“He would if he knew.”
“I have no intention of telling him. I agree that it might be difficult for you to keep it from him were you to spend time in his company—but that happens so seldom it should not be a concern.” When Kaylin failed to close her eyes, Bellusdeo’s narrowed. “I understand your fear,” the Dragon said. “But I have reached the end of patience. If I, as the person at risk, am willing to take—in fact, insist on—that risk, there is nothing left to discuss.”
Kaylin agreed enough to say nothing. When it became clear her lack of words was deliberate, Mandoran laughed. Bellusdeo did not.
Ynpharion was highly unimpressed with all of them. With Kaylin, who had taken advantage of a weakness he had always feared, with Bellusdeo and Mandoran, who were willing to expose themselves to a risk he would never have taken, with Helen—even Helen—for allowing it when she was clearly against it.
“I’m waiting,” Bellusdeo said, folding her arms. Smoke eddied out of her nose and mouth, like little tufts of death.
Kaylin closed her eyes.
She could see the Dragon’s name. “Look—I’m doing this because I really don’t think you losing your temper is going to help these discussions at all. But if I—if you—”
“Yes?”
“You have to let me know immediately, because—have I mentioned this?—Idon’t know what I’m doing.” People injured themselves, sometimes fatally, because they didn’t know what they were doing. Kaylin wasn’t certain if she was afraid of injuring herself or her friend, but settled on friend, because as far as she could tell, she hadn’t physically injured Ynpharion.
Who almost shrieked in frustration.
Can you see it?Her voice was curt.
No.Since he couldn’t lie to her, given the bond of the name, she accepted his answer.
What do you see, then?
I see that you are attempting to stall for time.
Anything else? Like, say, something relevant?
I see the usual red-tinged darkness that occurs when I close my own eyes and attempt to look through my eyelids.
So you can’t see the marks?
The marks?
The marks of the Chosen? The ones that appear to be sitting a foot above my skin and glowing?
No, I can’t see your marks. I have a sense that’s what you perceive—but you are not perceiving it in a fashion that is accessible to someone normal.
She ignored the dig. “Bellusdeo, can you see my marks?”
“They’re glowing.”
“Yes—but to me they’re not really attached to my skin.”
“You are stalling for time.”
Ynpharion chuckled.
“Can’t I gather information?”
