She’d done that before, for Mandoran. And in the wrong light—or the right light, hard to decide which—she could still see the effects of that disentangling on her hand: the threads of what had been a growing cocoon of Shadow had become a flat, harmless glove. She was used to having marks on her skin; the shadow threads had become a different type of mark, a different tattoo.
The marks on her arms were glowing, but remained flat. The glove on her hand, however, had also begun to respond. She almost yanked her hand back, afraid now for Terrano in an entirely different way.
Spike wouldn’t allow it.
If you break contact, you will lose him. You have offered him the hospitality and protection of your home. Will you break that oath now, at the first real challenge he faces?
I’m notathome. And I offered himHelen’sprotection and hospitality. Mine sucks.
Spike’s reply was not verbal; it was a rush of images that overlapped and metamorphosed before she could fully grasp them—not that she was trying very hard.Not now, Spike!He fell silent, but silence wasn’t withdrawal; he was still embedded in her hand and simultaneously embedded in Terrano’s shoulder.
She wound the threads around her palm, or that’s what she felt like she was doing; her hand, however, wasn’t actually moving. Spike was frustrated. So was Kaylin. No matter how quickly she tried to spool this deadly thread, she gained no traction; there was never a point at which she could see an end to what must be gathered and extracted from Terrano. Nor was there an end to the damage it was causing him.
Kaylin grimaced and continued to pull, pausing only for a second. Her familiar roared. She turned automatically as he dived into the crowd and in front of Terrano, hissing and squawking like a miniature, translucent storm.
Chapter 17
For the first time since Kaylin had touched Terrano, the Lords of the Court scattered. She was aware of their movement, although her eyes were closed; she could hear their feet against the perfect stone. She could hear sharply drawn breath.
She forced her eyes open and saw Hope, hovering between Coravante and Terrano. His jaws opened on a jewel-red mouth as he inhaled. Coravante’s eyes were midnight blue and round; he lifted both hands in a gesture that was fluid, fast and complicated. She could see the movement of his fingers in the open air, as if blurred and broken into component parts; she could see the faint trail of light that accompanied them, fingers tracing a pattern of runes at chest level.
Her familiar exhaled a stream of silver, sparkling smoke. It wasn’t aimed at the spell that Kaylin could now see hanging in the air; it was aimed at the stone flooring. But she thought the faint trace of sigils that were left in the air looked very much like her familiar’s breath. She felt no heat—Hope only looked like a miniature Dragon. He didn’t breathe fire. But regardless, the stone his breath touched melted almost instantly, the center of the circular cone causing...splashes.
Coravante shouted. Lord Bressarian shouted. People who hadn’t identified or introduced themselves shouted—but they were farther away, and they didn’t matter. The only voices that did matter remained utterly silent; the High Lord and the Consort did not join in the momentary panic.
Hope’s breath transformed the stones, and had Kaylin been here as a Hawk, months of paperwork and a permanent lack of promotion would be in her immediate future. If she were lucky. She was here as a technical Lord of the Court and, for the first time, considered it a huge plus. While the Barrani could respond, they couldn’t kill her because the laws of exemption didn’t apply to a human.
She just hoped they remembered it as she saw the glint of steel.
And realized that it wasn’t steel, because her eyes were closed. Light pierced her nonvision, as if she were staring at the sun; her ears began to ring, and voices and words overlapped and echoed.
Come on, Terrano, she thought as she pulled on the strands of Shadow. They did not resist her. She could suddenly see an end to what she was trying to extract; Hope had severed the threads. Or Hope’s breath had. She wondered what she looked like, in the eyes of the gathered lords. Part of her didn’t care—vehemently. But part of her knew that she should, because the cohort was, in part, hers.
Her hand burned as the last bit of Shadow was pulled free of its moorings within Terrano; it struggled and, in the end, whipped around to bite her wrist. And then, at last, it was still. She opened her eyes—really opened them, this time—and saw Terrano’s back. Her palm was pressed flat against it. She realized only then that she had not touched exposed skin, which was the way her healing normally worked. Nothing about Terrano was normal. Even for a Barrani.
I’m good now, he said, the interior words spoken as if someone had a death grip on his throat. Which he wasn’t using.
You’re not.
Thank you, Mother.He was angry. None of the trembling that affected him appeared to be due to fear.
Did he mean to kill you?
Withthat? No. But to be free of its influence, I needed to move one step to the side—and I can’t do that here. Not with all these witnesses.Maybe, she thought, feeling a trace of his doubt, not at all. He surrendered with a tiny bit of grace.It’s not the same as what I taught some of them. It’s different.
They’ve had some time to improve.
Not a lot of time. Not for our people.
Maybe not—but it wasn’t only Barrani you approached.
Of course it was. I wasn’t involved with dragging humans into the mess. They were—they needed money.
But mortals were involved, she countered.And mortals don’t have a lot of time compared to the rest of you. What exactly was the Shadow trying to do?
Nothing. Coravante was in control.
It wasn’t an answer, and she didn’t have time to press him.Barrani don’t like to be healed, she said, slowly flexing her palm.
