“Because,” she said, smiling sweetly, “we were never boring.” Kaylin couldn’t see her expression. She did see the reluctant gentling of the Arkon’s.
“Why are you here?”
“You are holed up in this library, and rumor has it that you have closed the public collectiontothe public.”
“Because I did not wish to be disturbed. By anyone.”
“Yes, yes. I must admit it far more challenging than it was before you became the Arkon. And I had eight helpers then. At the moment, I’m forced to make do with one.”
The Arkon finally moved his glare to Kaylin. It might have stayed there except Kaylin was carrying something in her hands.
The orange of his eyes was lost not to gold but to silver. “What do you carry?” he demanded, shaking himself free of the only Dragon he seemed to adore. He crossed the room, his gaze unwavering, although he scattered words as if they were weapons.
“Sanabalis, explain yourself.”
“Lannagaros.”
“I was not aware that you had usurped his name,” the Arkon snapped.
Sanabalis bowed his head for a moment. Kaylin could see his back, not his face. “Lord Bellusdeo,” he said, the use of the title both inaccurate and respectful, “accompanied Private Neya—”
“Corporal Neya. I’m a corporal now.”
“Ah. Apologies. And belated congratulations on your promotion.” He cleared his throat, teacher-style, a clear indication that corporals could burn as easily as privates could. “Lord Bellusdeo accompanied Kaylin. It is, for the mortal servants and officials, either too late or too early for a visit of any sort. She wished to speak with you.
“You have left strict instructions. Bellusdeo considered the instructions irrelevant to her goals, and asked for permission to break them.”
“And you gave her that permission.”
“I did. I would have risked her wrath,” Sanabalis continued, “had I not seen what Kaylin carried. Had I sent them both away, your wrath would have been more difficult.”
“Well?” the Arkon then said, his voice testy, his eyes losing the silver sheen. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Very well. I invite you to move out of the way.”
“I remind you that what Kaylin carries appears to be magical in nature, and the library and its—”
“It is mine, Sanabalis. It is my risk to take.”
“But you will be in a foul mood for decades, in the most optimistic scenario,” Bellusdeo added. “Honestly, Lannagaros. I have never seen you so impatient. Even in our youth, you...” Her voice trailed off, her gaze moving from the Arkon, her expression shifting from the sweet and affectionate malice with which she treated the Arkon to something almost akin to alarm.
She looked to Sanabalis, and after a brief pause, to Emmerian.
Emmerian’s eyes were orange now. Nothing else about his posture or attention had changed.
Sanabalis moved out of the Arkon’s way. Kaylin tried to do the same. It was instinctive, and it was the wrong move, but it was survivable.
“What are you carrying?” the Arkon demanded.
Kaylin held it out to him, her arms shaking from more than just cold.
“Answer the question, Kaylin. I am at the limit of patience.”
“It’s a book,” she told him. The Arkon was often condescending and dismissive when dealing with Kaylin. This was neither. Whatever it was, she found she preferred the condescension—something she would have bet against ever feeling.
“A book. That is what you see?”
She nodded, lifting it so that he could see the cover.
“A book.” His eyes were a complicated color now. To Kaylin, they seemed to be shading from the orange-gold that was normal to something that looked almost blue. Or green. It was not a color she remembered seeing in Dragon eyes, and she was instantly tense. Green, she thought, with hints of copper. What was copper again? Sadness? Grief?
