“It might be dangerous!”
“You cannot possibly be under the impression that Lannagaros takes orders from me. He barely takes orders from the Emperor, and when he does—”
“I understand the spirit of the Emperor’srequests,” the Arkon said.
“Oh, please. If you understood them, you wouldn’t be here at all.”
“I said I understood them,” the oldest member of the Dragon Court said. “I didn’t say I mindlessly obeyed.”
Bellusdeo’s snort had smoke in it. But she caught up with Kaylin and shouldered her out of the way as she returned to the abandoned front desk. Her armor gleamed in the interior light in a way that suggested a source of illumination Kaylin couldn’t otherwise see. Her eyes were orange.
The Arkon, however, remained well behind Bellusdeo and the two Hawks; Emmerian stayed with him, although he’d retrieved his hand.
People were unpredictable. Kaylin had considered—and probably still did—the Arkon a source of knowledge and wisdom. If he was cantankerous, and he absolutely was, he was steady. This Arkon, she hadn’t met, hadn’t seen. And clearly, neither had Bellusdeo.
It was harder to read Emmerian. Of the Dragon Court, he was the quietest presence. He was the man sent to interfere with her first attempt to find herself a new apartment. She couldn’t resent him for it; she had found Helen, after all. Helen was the home she had always wanted, but hadn’t known enough to even daydream about. She wouldn’t have found Helen without Emmerian’s unwelcome interference. She’d’ve happily taken the room on offer.
It was Emmerian who kept an eye on Bellusdeo—but at a safe distance. She couldn’t, now that she considered it, imagine that he would do so the way someone like Diarmat would. Emmerian seemed to understand what Bellusdeo required. Even here, he allowed Bellusdeo to take the lead.
Bellusdeo, who had led armies and fought until the last against the encroachment of Shadow. She had not fought in the Draco-Barrani wars, although she had been educated and trained—inasmuch as a juvenile Dragon female could be—to do so.
Kaylin had been, for the entirety of her life with the Hawks, either a mascot or a private. Until now. She couldn’t imagine leading armies. If she’d daydreamed about being Empress as a child, it was because she hadn’t understood the weight of the responsibility that came with that position.
Hadn’t considered the guilt that followed a loss. She’d never thought to survive for as long as Bellusdeo had.
“I wish we’d kept Annarion,” Kaylin said as she faced the closed front doors.
“Not Sedarias?”
“Annarion’s not Mandoran, but he’s used to the rest of us. Sedarias keeps her own counsel. If Annarion were here, we’d know what’s happening on the other side of the door.”
“Annarion’s sword-work is the best of the cohort’s,” Bellusdeo said, her voice softer. “This is not where you want him.”
Kaylin, surprised, turned to Bellusdeo—but noted that Emmerian seemed slightly surprised, as well.
“I am considered reckless,” Bellusdeo said, her smile brief but genuine. “But I understand why we are here and the cohort are outside. They can see their enemies. I cannot.”
Kaylin, about to tell her that a wall of fiery breath might change that, said nothing.
The Arkon snorted, as well. He didn’t look over his shoulder to see Bellusdeo. “Stop that.” His voice was grim.
“Stop what?” Bellusdeo’s tone was so deliberately innocent, Kaylin realized that she’d missed something that the Arkon hadn’t.
“Bellusdeo is willing to remain outside of the action—” Something thudded against the closed doors. The Arkon paused until it was clear that no entry was going to follow, then said, “Not because she can’t theoretically see the enemy, but because it will keepmehere.
“Because the results are the correct results—Bellusdeo remains in the safest position—I accept this. But I dislike intensely her claim to be wiser or more prudent than she actually is. I feel that my own wisdom and prudence is being used as a tool.”
Bellusdeo laughed. Her eyes were almost gold. Without pause, given the second thud against the door, the gold Dragon turned and enveloped the Arkon in a hug. Emmerian glanced away. Kaylin almost did, as well; there was something intensely personal in that simple gesture. “You are the only thing that remains of my childhood,” the gold Dragon said.
“I will singe your hair,” the Arkon replied.
Kaylin did not understand Dragons. Emmerian, however, seemed to understand this, and so she turned once again to the doors. Her eyes stopped part of the way there, because Larrantin was present.
Larrantin was looking at the Arkon. Not through him, but at him. His expression was intent, but devoid of anger; a hint of confusion colored his eyes.
“We’re going to deliver your message,” Kaylin said.
He adjusted the direction of his gaze.
