Kaylin did not understand the point of dinner guests. Or rather, of having guests over for dinner. She understood the concept of eating. She understood the concept of eating with friends. Clearly a meal that one was serving, and to which one invited friends, was somehow entirely different.
Bellusdeo, who disliked the fussiness of what was now considered good table manners, was inclined to agree, but without the frustration. Her eyes had shaded orange, but only slightly, when she had been informed of the Consort’s pending visit.
“No,” she said, before Kaylin could suggest it, “I think it highly unwise to have the Emperor and the Consort together at the same dinner table. I would like to meet your Consort, and I admit it might be amusing to watch the two of them in the same room—but in this case, amusement would likely be fleeting, and consequences would not.”
Annarion, on the other hand, was practically hyperventilating. Mandoran, the more laid back of the two—well, technically, the most laid back Barrani she had ever met—was also blue-eyed and tense. Since they occupied the dining room, which was kind of Helen’s equivalent to the mess hall in the office, Kaylin pulled up a chair.
Nightshade had once again been allowed to speak to Kaylin through the shared bond of his name. When Helen was not feeling charitable, he couldn’t—not when Kaylin was at home. Clearly, Helen was feeling charitable. Either that or she thought Nightshade would say something she wanted Kaylin to hear. Regardless of Helen’s motivations, Kaylin wasn’t terribly surprised to hear Nightshade, loud and clear.
The fieflord was not Ynpharion, but he found Kaylin’s entirely casual invitation almost as dumbfounding as the disapproving Barrani Lord did.
She is akin to an Empress, he said, in a chilly internal tone. To the Barrani, inviting the Consort to dinner is only slightly less political than inviting the High Lord.
It’s not political.
It is. You did not have political intentions. Your intentions, however, do not matter. I am slightly surprised that the Lady agreed to your request. And not entirely pleased, Kaylin thought. She disagreed. Politics was all about intention.
No, it is not. You are thinking like a Hawk.
Because I am one.
Very well. Politics of the nature with which you are familiar are about preventing crimes, or rather, preventing their consequences in regard to oneself. Think of yourself as a corpse. To you, it doesn’t matter if you died because you caught a disease, got hit by a carriage, or had your throat slit. In the case of the latter, it is probably a much kinder death than the illness. As a Hawk, the only death that matters is the latter.
But you are not a Hawk here. The outcome is the important factor because it is the only one which will be seen. In the case of my example, that is the death. In the case of the Consort, it is her condescension. Her presence. You have extended an invitation. This is not unusual, although in your case, given your race, it would be considered presumptuous.
Of course it would.
She has, however, accepted. In the best case, she will be considered overindulgent and willfully sentimental—you would be seen as a favored pet.
She’d been on the books as official mascot before she was old enough to join the Hawks as an actual officer of the law. She could live with that, and had.
In the worst case, you will be seen as a threat. The Consort’s dignity is above visiting an insignificant mortal who is not even a member of the Caste Court. If she is willing to publicly accept this loss of dignity, it must be because you hold power over her.
Or maybe we’re friends?
The powerful do not have friends.
Kaylin’s teeth were going to be smooth nubs, she was grinding them so heavily. She didn’t, however, want to have an argument with Nightshade about friendship. Or anything, really.
I am not arguing, he predictably said. But you have entered into a political arena. What matters is not what you believe, here; it is what will be seen and believed by others. And I concur with Bellusdeo. If the Emperor is to visit again—
He is.
—it would be best for all involved if that visit did not overlap with the Consort’s. The Consort is not your enemy, but she has enemies. She has fewer enemies than any others who would hold rank in the High Court, but fewer in the case of the Barrani does not imply safety.
But no Barrani would hurt her.
Not directly, no. Nor would they kill her if they had that option; it is not in the best interests of the race, and not in the interests of those whose families are not secure. But to control her? Yes.
Kaylin frowned, thinking. What would they want from her? She won’t refuse to name their children—I don’t think she can.
No. But it is the belief of my kin that the Consort chooses the name. Always. For some, interfering with, and heavily influencing, that choice would be considered in the best interests of the family. And that, she could do.
I don’t think it works that way.
No. And for the record, neither do I. But the mysteries of the Lake are shrouded and uncertain to my kin; only the Consort knows and understands them. She is also the Lady, wife to the High Lord, and her political power and influence is strong. She might decline to use them as most of my kin would, but it is not because she lacks the tools.
Why do you think she wants to come here?
It is secure, for one. But I believe that she wishes to meet and evaluate Teela’s kin, and at the moment, they are not precisely welcome in the High Halls. They could go. I could not, however, supervise a visit there. Andellen could. But he considers it highly unwise.
So do you.
Ah. You’d noticed that? His voice was dry as kindling. It is not too late to rethink the invitation you have extended. Were I you, I would do so.
I think Annarion would be upset.
Nightshade said nothing.
* * *
The Barrani Hawks were back on duty the following day, minus the one who remained in the infirmary under Moran’s care. Teela and Tain were sent to the warrens. Kaylin was almost certain that the request had been made by Teela, which was technically against the rules—but the people who handled the paperwork were Hawks, and they knew when technicalities had to be ignored.
There had been no word from the Imperial Mages; investigation of the security of the mirror network was clearly not their first priority, but that did give the Hawklord an excuse to curtail acceptance of external mirror messages. It was an obvious attempt to delay acceptance of Barrani Caste Court notification. Kaylin did not believe there had been a breach of the mirror network, and she was pretty certain the Hawklord didn’t, either.
Severn and Kaylin were back on Elani. If the office was quiet—and it was—it wasn’t the fear-laden variety. It was the breath-held variety, and Kaylin was just as happy to patrol as remain there. She’d never been good at figuring out when to break an awkward silence, and even when she had managed to make this intuitive leap, was pretty bad at breaking it in a way that wasn’t as awkward.
Annarion, after overcoming his initial shock, had doubled down on practicing with Helen with the news of the Consort’s visit; he was grim, silent, and absent at breakfast. Mandoran was present but looked hungover, which in theory didn’t happen to Barrani. He gave Kaylin a baleful glare, followed immediately by a wince.
“When’s Teela coming to stay?”
“Soon.”
“Meaning you don’t know.”
“Meaning I don’t know exactly, no. In case you missed it, she’s not my responsibility. And she really hates it when people fuss over her.” After a brief pause, Kaylin then asked, “Have you gotten any more out of her?”
“About the assassination attempt?”
“That, yes.”
“Nothing. I think she’s afraid I’ll tell you.”
“It’s Hawk business.”
“And when you’re the Hawklord, I’m sure she’ll open up and become forthcoming. Until reality fractures, it’s not happening. Don’t look at me like that. Thanks to you, I’m living with Mr. Obsessive.” His grimace deepened as he pushed himself up from the table. “And when I say living, I use that word because there’s no suitable bad one.”
Mandoran stayed home when Bellusdeo and Kaylin left for the office. He had clearly regretted the necessity, but Annarion insisted on company in his misery.
Kaylin was surprised at how used to Bellusdeo’s company she’d become. She was apparently enough of a fixture on the Elani beat that Kaylin had gratefully resumed that most of the merchants and regular customers now failed to notice her.
Her familiar was perched alertly on her left shoulder, and occasionally he chittered like a bird. This grabbed more attention than when he sprawled like a lifeless scarf, but if she was being fair, not a lot more. She had become completely accustomed to having Hope around, and wondered if he could be made the Hawk’s official mascot, since the position hadn’t been filled when Kaylin had graduated from it.
Someone, however, had pointed out that something that looked like a Dragon, even if glass and in miniature, was never going to be made an official mascot. To anyone who didn’t know Kaylin’s familiar, the visual would be thumbing the Hawks’ collective nose in the Emperor’s direction, and given that the Hawks in theory served the Emperor, that would be bad.
“Evanton?” Severn asked.
Kaylin shook her head. “And no Margot, either. I’d like a normal, boring day if it’s all the same to you.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Oh?”
“I think I see Grethan in the window.”
* * *
Kaylin liked Grethan. Given their first encounter, she would have bet that would be impossible. But he worked hard, he obeyed Evanton, and he seemed to be helpful. It didn’t hurt that Kaylin’s familiar seemed to really like him as well; he immediately pushed himself off Kaylin and landed on the apprentice.
Grethan’s forehead antennae were weaving in and around the familiar’s face as Grethan spoke. Kaylin waited until their greetings had more or less finished, and then cleared her throat.
The apprentice blushed. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”
“Any idea what he wants?”
“No, sorry. If it helps, he’s not in a bad mood today.” He hesitated and then added, “He’s been in a bad mood all week—if you could maybe not irritate him, I’d really, really appreciate it.”
* * *
Evanton was, as Grethan indicated, sitting in the kitchen in front of a pot of steaming tea, none of which he usually drank.
“Is this going to take a while?” she asked as she slid into a chair and looked for the cookie tin.
“Why do you ask?”
“You made tea.”
“It happens on occasion when I’m entertaining guests.”
“You were expecting someone else?”
“I was expecting you, of course.”
“I’m on duty,” she told him.
“Corporal?”
Severn smiled and shook his head; he could drink tea, but seldom did while on duty. Kaylin, however, looked at the counter, on which the cookie tin rested. Evanton nodded and she rose to fetch it.
“I have heard disturbing rumors,” he said, while she was prying the slightly warped lid off.
“About?”
“The West March.”
Kaylin cringed. Because she could eat at any time, she took a cookie before she returned to the table, leaving the open tin on the counter. At a raised eyebrow, she rose and put the lid back, as Evanton wasn’t terribly fond of mice, and apparently had some anyway.
“Yes,” she said, deflating, “there have been some problems.”
Bellusdeo treated Evanton with respect; in Kaylin’s experience, Evanton was the only obvious recipient of Bellusdeo’s deference. The Dragon’s eyes were orange. “You seldom mention rumors that are irrelevant. What do you feel it is important for us to know?”
Evanton smiled, which deepened the lines around the corners of his mouth and eyes. “I call them rumors for a reason. In this case, the information conveyed to me was done so indirectly. There is some danger involving the Hallionne.”
Silence. Bellusdeo passed the conversation back to Kaylin with a glance.
“Did your rumors detail which Hallionne?”
“Ah, no. It appears to be a collective problem. I am not,” he added, “Barrani, and I have not traveled by the Hallionne paths for a very, very long time. Before you ask, my prior experience is irrelevant, and regardless, I am not in a position to travel now.”
Kaylin’s frown grew extra lines. “Have you talked to Teela?”
“It so happens that she dropped by to pay her respects, yes. And by respect, I do not mean slouch at the table and eat all the cookies.”
Kaylin straightened up.
“Better. She wanted to speak about Mandoran.”
“Specifically Mandoran?”
“The garden was not pleased to see him the first time he visited, if you recall. She wished me to speak specifically with the wild elements to ascertain exactly why.”
“The elements don’t work that way.”
“No. Very good, by the way.” He waited.
“She can’t possibly expect me to talk to the elements?”
“I assure you she doesn’t.”
“...You want me to talk to them.”
“I would appreciate any attempt you might make to talk to the water. Teela did not seem particularly interested in that solution. But you appear to have an affinity for it. The water is the primary source of my rumors, and the water is...very concerned.”
“Did the water explain what her difficulty with Mandoran was?”
Evanton exhaled. “No, not precisely. The water does speak in a fashion that the other elements do not—no doubt due to the influence of the Tha’alaan. But the words the water offered were opaque. The element understands their meaning. I do not; Teela did not appear to understand them, either.
“But the water’s replies to An’Teela’s questions—through me as intermediary—were broader than Mandoran. There is concern about people who are similar to Mandoran, at least if I understood what was said.” He did not look at all certain. “In your parlance,” he added, “and with deference to Bellusdeo, there is a possibility of the involvement of Shadow.” He held up a hand as Bellusdeo opened her mouth. “It is not a certainty, and I do not guarantee certainty without some conversation with the water itself.”
“Did I mention I’m on duty?”
“I would, of course, as a merchant who pays taxes, expect you to do this on your own time.”
Of course.
* * *
Bellusdeo was not happy to wait, but understood Kaylin’s reasons. Barely. The Dragon was aware, however, that even the mention of Shadow sent her into panic mode, and she was willing to walk out the duration of an Elani beat that had become irrelevant to her.
The rest of the Elani patrol passed without incident. Kaylin returned to the Halls, filed a brief report which went into the “not an emergency and can be shredded” pile on Marcus’s desk, and then paced the office floors. She was now afraid of two things.
One: the Consort would agree with the Lords who wanted Teela’s cohort to be made outcaste, and two: the Emperor would lose his scales when she attempted to cancel his dinner.
The former would mean that she would once again be in conflict with the Consort, and she wasn’t certain that she would be forgiven as easily or as quickly a second time. The latter meant that she would be in conflict with the Emperor, because she would have to explain why she was canceling the informal dinner. She had never explicitly said much about either Annarion or Mandoran.
While it was true that the attack on the High Halls at the heart of the upscale part of the city was technically their fault, they hadn’t called the ancestors on purpose. They wouldn’t have been aware they were calling them at all had it not been for Helen, and they remained indoors—or at least Annarion did—in a desperate attempt to learn to be silent.
Mandoran found it easier; Kaylin wasn’t certain why. Mandoran was therefore allowed out of doors, because Helen didn’t consider him to be a danger. Either that or she just wanted peace and quiet; Mandoran was chatty. And whiny.
But the Emperor’s hoard was the empire, and the heart of the empire was his city. He was unlikely to calmly accept that the loss of so many lives had been accidental, and seen that way, Kaylin wouldn’t entirely blame him. But she was a Hawk, and intent did matter.
* * *
Helen was waiting at the door when Kaylin arrived home.
“What happened?”
“You have an appointment at the palace.”
“Since when?”
“Since this afternoon. I believe both you and Bellusdeo are expected to attend Lord Diarmat.”
“Since when?”
“As I said—”
“We’ve been given indefinite leave from those lessons!”
“You were given leave from them during the Aerian crisis, yes. And during Lord Diarmat’s recovery. He believes, however, that he has recovered enough to recommence.”
“But—”
“Word has reached the Imperial Court of your invitation to the Consort. In and of itself, this would not constitute an emergency. Word, however, has also made clear that the Consort has accepted.”
Kaylin wilted. “I’m supposed to go talk to Evanton after dinner.”
“Evanton, I’m afraid, will have to wait.”
“I think it’s about the cohort. And the Hallionne. He wants me to talk to the elemental water, because he thinks she knows something.”
Helen sighed. “I’ll leave it up to you, dear. I know it might make things easier for the boys—and for Teela, who is very, very worried. But I also know that ignoring Lord Diarmat means that your interactions with him in future will be even more difficult.”
Kaylin snorted. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Oh, it’s possible,” Bellusdeo said. “Why are you just standing there? We’re going to be late.”
Kaylin had about a hundred good arguments for why she wasn’t going at all—but the thought of being late to a lesson taught by Diarmat was enough to swamp them all with a kind of visceral dread.
* * *
“Your carriage is almost at the door,” Helen announced. “It should be here momentarily.”
Of course there was a carriage, feet being inappropriate for a Lord of the Dragon Court. Then again, wings were better than feet, and they were technically illegal without Imperial permission. Bellusdeo did not ask anyone for permission. The Dragon was wearing her feline grin as she made her way to the front door, where Helen waited.
Kaylin was surprised when she therefore spoke in her serious voice.
“I’m worried about the boys, too.”
“Mandoran will have conniptions if he knows you’re calling them that.”
“Mandoran has conniptions when he’s breathing. He’ll live.” Bellusdeo exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “I admit that I’ve been curious about the Consort for a while, and as your last informal dinner was surprisingly enjoyable, I think I’d enjoy this one.”
“Did you tell Diarmat?”
Bellusdeo raised a brow in Kaylin’s direction. “Since I don’t consider a dinner an emergency, no. I generally attempt to curtail all communication with Diarmat.”
“Would you mind very much if I strangled Emmerian?”
The second brow joined the first. “Why Emmerian?”
“If you weren’t the source, he probably was.”
“I wouldn’t mind terribly if you tried—he doesn’t seem to have our racial temper, and it’s not likely to get you killed. It is, however, likely to be humiliating for you, and I have to live with you.” She exhaled again, without apparently having bothered to inhale first. “This is tied in to Candallar, yes?”
“I think so. One of the Hawks did try to kill Teela. She’s officially saying Canatel’s involvement was all a misunderstanding, by the way.”
“Yes, attempts at murder are often misunderstandings. Unless it involves armies, in which case it’s diplomacy. I understand why she lied, though.”
“Maybe it’s not a lie.”
“Maybe I’m not a Dragon.” The familiar squawked and the Dragon sighed. “Teela is a Lord. She’s a ruler on a very small scale. The Barrani who joined the Hawks probably did so at her command. Implicit in that command is the power to protect, and in this case, she considers the failure her own. She does not feel betrayed.”
“Would you?”
“I’m a Dragon, Kaylin.”
“So...that’s a yes? Or a no?”
“Yes, I would feel betrayed. But Dragons in the Aeries resolved these so-called misunderstandings immediately; they did not wait, lie, and attempt to discern the source of the difficulty; they did not stoop to politics. Either I would have died, or the attacker would have died; I would not be concerned with his life. Teela is. She’s surprising to me, in many ways. I understand why Annarion and Mandoran are different—they’re young.” Before Kaylin could correct her, she lifted a hand. “If they are ancient, they are ancient in the same way I am. We are all displaced, Kaylin. We are all people who no longer have a home.”
“You’ve got Helen.”
“Helen is yours. None of us would have Helen if Helen had not chosen you, and she would have chosen none of us had we applied—is that the correct word?—for lodging.”
“You can’t know that—”
“She is correct,” Helen said.
“But—”
“What Bellusdeo, Annarion or Mandoran want from a home is not what you wanted. What they want, I could give, but it’s not what I want. I do not judge them unworthy,” she added, correctly divining Kaylin’s objection. “I like them all a great deal. But liking and living with are not the same. What I wanted to be, you wanted. That is why I chose you.”
Bellusdeo nodded, unruffled. “You had no home for most of your living memory. Not until you crossed the Ablayne, and even then, you were out of place: you were far too young to be a Hawk, and too young to be living on your own.”
“I lived on my own,” Kaylin said, trying not to feel indignant.
“You had your own apartment, yes—one which Caitlin found for you. But everyone you knew had keys.”
“Not everyone.”
“The point is: you were also an outsider. And you wanted to come inside, which I believe is considered perfectly normal for humans. Barrani might, when very young, have some of that same desire—but they understand, if they survive, that inside is often far more deadly. And Dragons? We don’t share well. It takes concentrated effort, and a type of self-control that is lamentably rare among my kin. We don’t require company.
“If you want, I’ll head Diarmat off, and you can go to Evanton’s.”
“The Emperor will have my head.”
“Oh?” This was distinctly chillier. Kaylin almost kicked herself. She had not expected to like the Emperor—and in truth, he seemed a bit above something as petty as like or dislike—but she hadn’t expected to feel any sympathy for him. Ever. Yet she did. She understood that in his own fashion he was trying his level best, where Bellusdeo was concerned, and she didn’t want to become the reason that Bellusdeo continued her dogged anger at him.
“I didn’t know this was going to turn political.”
“No one with any familiarity with you—even a passing one—would expect that you had political motivations. No one, however, believes that the Consort does not. Teela will be moving in—I think she’s halfway done. There was some argument with Tain which we all pretended not to hear. Helen’s attempt to referee the argument—referee is the word, yes? No?”
“I don’t think referee is the word you want.”
“I can’t think of a better one.”
“Mediate?”
“Fine. Mediate. Helen’s attempt at mediation was to tell them both that it was entirely up to you.” Bellusdeo snickered. “I thought you’d appreciate that. You’re certain you don’t want to go to Evanton’s?”
* * *
Lord Diarmat reminded Kaylin of the very worst of her teachers at the Halls of Law. No, that wasn’t true. It made her nostalgic for the very worst of those teachers. He was waiting for them in the large room that Kaylin thought of as the war room, his arms folded, a thin stream of smoke coming out of his nostrils. His eyes were dangerously orange. His color seemed off, but he was a Dragon and Kaylin had very little knowledge of Dragons that didn’t come from Bellusdeo. She knew enough about this one, on the other hand, not to offer open concern. He was glaring.
“We’re not late,” Bellusdeo said, her voice the same shade of cool she used whenever she spoke of the Emperor, her tone as critical as Diarmat’s when he was speaking to, or at, Kaylin. “And honestly, your color is terrible. We are not babes in arms; I believe that we could muddle through without dragging you from your warming stones.”
This did nothing good for the shade of Diarmat’s eyes.
“You are not a hatchling; you are fully politically cognizant. You are not, however, in charge of Private Neya. I am here to assess her ability to entertain the ruling consort of the Barrani High Court without embarrassment to either the Barrani or the Emperor.”
“I highly doubt the Consort is so unfamiliar with Lord Kaylin that she expects to be treated as if she were a Dragon Lord.”
Diarmat looked about as unamused as he could, short of breathing fire. Bellusdeo looked condescending. Kaylin probably looked ill.
“The correct form of address for the Consort?” His tone was pointed.
“Consort.”
Bellusdeo winced.
“Sit down, Private. Let me explain what could be at stake for you and your putative career. As a private, you do not extend invitations to the High Lord or his Lady without permission from the Dragon Court.”
“I didn’t invite her as a private.”
“And if you are not a private of the Halls of Law, you may feel free to do as you please. Until then, your behavior reflects on the glory of the Eternal Emperor.” And not to the better, his tone implied. Given his eye color, Kaylin was grudgingly surprised that he left it at implication. “Lord Bellusdeo’s presence within your domicile necessitates surveillance. The Barrani will likely accept this as a matter of course. We cannot, however, stop the Consort and check her thoroughly.
“We would like to have a representative of the Court present at your home.”
“You do. Bellusdeo lives there.”
“She is not a member of the Dragon Court.”
“She’s a Dragon Lord as far as the Halls are concerned.”
“It is irrelevant what the rank and file at the Halls tell themselves. We are aware that she currently lives with you, but she has not undertaken the responsibilities of the Dragon Court in anything but a cursory way.”
“Lannagaros has kindly offered to oversee the meal,” Bellusdeo said. She didn’t look like she’d breathe fire; she looked like she’d breathe ice.
“Has he?”
“Yes. If you would care to ask him, I am certain Lord Kaylin and I would be willing to wait. We might study the report you seem to have at hand; it looks infuriatingly like the layers of bureaucracy—that is the word, yes?” she added, to Kaylin, who tried not to cringe and failed to reply. “The bureaucracy in which your Court is mired. It is hard to imagine that you actually fought in the Draco-Barrani wars, given your adoption of so many of their peculiarities; I am uncertain how different their victory would have looked.”
Kaylin did not take a step back, but that took serious effort. Had she realized Bellusdeo would be so openly antagonistic, she would have tried to leave her at home.
Lord Diarmat, however, did not breathe fire. Instead he handed the report—and Bellusdeo had not exaggerated—to the Dragon. “I will speak with the Arkon. Please feel free to peruse the report.”
“Will there be a test?” she asked sweetly.
“Oh, most assuredly.” He walked out. He actually opened the door first, which Kaylin wouldn’t have bet on. Only when she could no longer hear his footsteps did she turn to Bellusdeo, whose eyes were a simmering orange. “Was that really necessary?”
“His part or my part?”
“Your part. Diarmat isn’t capable of behaving any differently; I think it would kill him.”
“It might kill him yet,” was the dire reply.
“And he’s going to march to the library, interrupt the Arkon, and discover that you lied.”
“You know what I’ve said about betting?”
“That it’s a waste of time and you don’t understand its appeal?”
“I would like to rescind that. What would you care to bet?”
“You talked to the Arkon?”
“As it happens, I did not consult with Lannagaros, no.”
“So you expect he’s going to lie?”
“Not at all. I expect he’s going to confirm that he would be delighted to join us for dinner. As it seems to be Diarmat’s insistence that we have a minder for the visit, and the Arkon is the most senior member of the Court, there’s not a lot Diarmat can say.”
“I’m sure he’ll surprise you—I think he can say a lot.” She grimaced and looked at the report which Bellusdeo had not even opened. “Let me see that.”
“You can’t honestly imagine it will have useful information?”
“Not that I want to defend Diarmat, but actually, I imagine it has a lot of what he considers useful or necessary information. And to be fair to him? Some of it probably is.”
“You’re actually going to read it.” Bellusdeo was nonplused.
“The Imperial spies are probably a lot more forthcoming than the Barrani themselves. If the Emperor is concerned about political upheaval as a result of this dinner, it’s probably going to have information on how or why that upheaval might occur. Yes, I’m going to read it. It’ll probably tell me more about the High Court than the Consort or Teela would.” She warmed up to that thought. “Diarmat was severely injured fighting to protect the High Halls, and I’m certain his personal preferences would be to see the Barrani as a giant heap of collective ash. He’s going to look down on me no matter what I do, I can’t change that.
“But this might be useful. Do you think he’ll let me keep it?”
“Kitling,” Bellusdeo said, her eyes as gold as they had been since entering a room that also contained Lord Diarmat, “Sometimes you really surprise me. In a good way. Yes, I’m certain he’ll let you keep it. If you ask, he might be slightly mollified.”
“Could you try to stop antagonizing him on my behalf?”
“I’m doing it on my own behalf.”
“Then could you try to antagonize him when I’m not here? He’s had it in for me since the first day we met—and I’m his only safe target.”
“Which is contemptible; it is hardly deserving of consideration.”
Kaylin generally agreed with this. “I don’t think he’s trying to be contemptible. I think he’s worried.” Before Bellusdeo could speak, she rushed on. “Look—I’m the last person I would send into diplomatic waters. I’m only sent to the expensive parts of town when there’s been magical interference, or worse, and I’m sent with senior Hawks who do all the talking. I’m trying to learn how to behave—”
“I see nothing wrong with your behavior.”
“—like a Hawk. I’m trying to think before I speak. But I often fail, and I don’t want that to reflect poorly on the Halls of Law. He’s not wrong about me and diplomacy.”
“Why is it that you’re expected to conform to everyone else, and not the other way around?”
“Because I’m mortal, and I’m a private?”
“That was rhetorical. From everything you’ve said, the Consort knows what you’re like, and she accepted the invitation. She’s hardly going to start a diplomatic dustup if you fail to behave like any other Barrani Lord.”
“Oh—and that’s another thing. Could you please stop calling me ‘Lord Kaylin?’”