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weren’t, they wouldn’t have been able to injure me. If they were, there’s a reasonable chance that their activities also involve
Lords of the High Court. Are you telling me you wouldn’t revisit the scene of a crime to assess how the crime occurred?”
She opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “. . . he has a point,” she said to Teela.
Teela rolled her eyes. “If a murder occurred in the warrens—”
“If?”
“And it was somehow reported, would you rush off without your partner to investigate the scene of the crime?”
Kaylin sighed and turned to Terrano. “Teela also has a point.”
“It happens to be the better point,” Teela said. She’d folded her arms as if she were wearing Hawks’ kit and not extremely
expensive noble clothing. “Sedarias didn’t tell you not to investigate at all. We understand the importance of at least knowing
the contents of our enemy’s arsenal. But there’s a reason Hawks operate in twos.”
“I thought that was so one of the two could be a witness if things went south?” He then frowned. “Why south? Wouldn’t west
be better?”
“It’s so we have physical backup. We’re not isolated. The Emperor doesn’t consider our partners to be reliable witnesses if
we’re accused of committing crimes as Hawks.”
Terrano snorted. “So it’s better for two people to be endangered than one? No, this is a stupid analogy. I can investigate. Of the cohort, I’m the only one who has Abel’s permission to poke around. The only other person who might safely
investigate is Mandoran, and he wants nothing to do with the Lords of the High Court.”
“He wouldn’t be seen by them.”
“It’s the principle.”
Sedarias smacked the back of Terrano’s head.
Mandoran appeared at the height of the stairs that led to the doors of the guest rooms. “I don’t care if he talks about my
issues with Kaylin,” he told Sedarias. “Helen knows everything, anyway.”
“Helen won’t discuss it with Kaylin unless we give her permission.”
“So . . . I’m giving her permission? I don’t feel the need to be protected from Kaylin, of all people—without her, we wouldn’t have a safe home. And there’s way too much we’ve been leaving her in the dark about. That would make sense if she had zero involvement with the Barrani High
Court; they won’t murder her in a fashion that would lead back to them because she’s the wrong race and it’ll give the Dragon permission to investigate—or the High Court permission to terminate the lords
involved.
“But she is a Lord of the High Court, and she is a friend of the Consort—if that’s the right word for it. She’s involved no matter what we do. She’s involved no matter how
much we share. Right now, we’ve got bits and pieces of threat, enmity, attempted murders—but we’ve only got pieces, and the
pieces are small enough we can’t put them together to see the bigger picture. We can’t see a picture at all.
“Kaylin might have different pieces, related in ways we don’t immediately see. She’s on our side. She’s always been on our
side. You know we’ve always done better when we’re all working on those pieces, trying to get a sense of where they fit. We
think differently.”
“Well, she certainly thinks differently,” Teela agreed. “But Mandoran’s issues with his family don’t seem—at the moment—to
be relevant. Helen is trying to protect your privacy.”
Mandoran descended the stairs. “Why? I’m not. I’d give Kaylin my name if the rest of you agreed.”
“We don’t,” Teela and Sedarias said—at the same time, and in the same tone of voice.
“It wouldn’t be the only name she holds.” He shrugged. Terrano was also big on the giving of his name. “Nothing terrible has
happened to any of the others.”
“Nothing yet,” Sedarias snapped.
Kaylin exhaled and lifted a hand; green silk trailed down her arm as if it were liquid. “I don’t need to know about Mandoran’s family. I don’t need to know his True Name. I didn’t grow up in the cohort, and sometimes I want privacy—which I’d never get again.
“But there is a lot going on, and a lot to process.”
“Will you tell us why the Consort summoned you?”
“She didn’t summon, she invited.” Ynpharion’s dismissive snort was absent. “And I can’t really talk about her concerns.” Kaylin was not one of nature’s liars.
Given the life she’d lived in the fiefs just prior to her arrival at the Halls of Law, that shouldn’t have been true. But
she glanced at Teela.
Teela’s eyes were a paler blue than they’d been for most of the day, but they were still blue. Teela, of all the cohort, chose
what to share and what to hold back; she did the same with Helen. Kaylin guessed that most of the meeting with the Consort
had not been shared.
“But she heard about Nightshade, and she suspects that the people who were aiming at Nightshade are working against her, as
well.”
“On what grounds?” Sedarias demanded, turning to Kaylin.
Kaylin glanced at Teela; Teela failed to notice, indicating that in this, Kaylin was on her own. “I’m not certain. She said
assassination attempts against him were once common; they’re much less common now. But she thinks maybe they want the sword?”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the answer I can give.” Kaylin attempted to change the subject. “We met An’Tellarus, as you probably already know.”
Sedarias nodded; clearly, Teela had chosen to share that information. “She’s dangerous.”
“Probably. She’s old, she’s Barrani, and she’s the head of her line. How could she not be dangerous?”
“Theoretically, she could have been the last man standing,” Mandoran said.
“It’s happened a handful of times within Barrani history.
Someone mostly harmless keeps their head down while magic and bolts fly above them, and when the air clears, everyone else is dead.
They’re weak enough, they’d lose the line they inherit by default immediately—but all of the aggressive, ambitious people with even a hint of legitimate claim are dead. ”
“You were paying attention when we visited An’Tellarus, right?” Kaylin asked. After Mandoran nodded, she said, “What about
An’Tellarus struck you as mostly harmless? Or harmless at all?”
“. . . it was just a thought.”
“Don’t dignify it by calling it thought,” Teela snapped. “She is dangerous.”
“Of course,” Sedarias agreed. “But I don’t think she is—at the moment—a danger to Mellarionne. Your interaction made clear
she intends to remain neutral, until and unless we have something to offer, or we step on her toes.”
Kaylin had a headache.
She imagined Terrano had one as well—but he wasn’t getting any peace on the inside of that head, either. She could almost
understand why Sedarias was so angry: Terrano had come very, very close to dying in the fiefs. Of the cohort, for reasons
that would never be clear to Kaylin, it was Terrano to whom Sedarias felt closest.
Sedarias had been born into the competition—the blood sport—that was the Mellarionne seat. She’d been raised with ambition
to rule, and the understanding that every single person who had even a tenuous claim to the line was her mortal enemy, literally.
Her sister had tried to kill her. Her brother had tried to kill her. Cousins in the distant past had done the same, and probably
other siblings, lost to combat.
No one in this house, no one in her cohort, would ever try. But she believed that most of them were what Mellarionne would
have considered weak. Therefore they required protection. Kaylin was almost certain Sedarias had half her drive to rule Mellarionne
because it was a certain source of power—if she could hold it.
From a position of power, she could offer far more solid protection to the cohort.
But Kaylin wasn’t certain the cohort—or many of them—wanted that. They wanted for Sedarias what she wanted for herself, but they didn’t necessarily want her protection. Serralyn was happy in the Academia, doing research that
would both aid Sedarias and possibly create brighter paths toward the future; she would never, given the opportunity, abandon
the Academia for the High Halls.
The discussion—held the normal way as a courtesy to Kaylin—grew louder in volume. But Sedarias was half right. And if Yvonne
was going to visit Helen, An’Tellarus was going to come with her. Kaylin would have bet any money she earned on it.
“I’ve told one of An’Tellarus’s servants that I’d like her to visit,” Kaylin said, speaking in a volume that would have done
her sergeant proud. “I want her to meet Helen.”
Everyone stopped at her words, even Teela.
“She’s Barrani, but she’s very young, and I liked her. I think you’ll all like her if you give her five minutes. Maybe less, given some of you. But the problem I see with
the invitation—which I’m certain she’ll accept—is that An’Tellarus is likely to come with her as a chaperone or guardian.”
“No,” Teela snapped.
“Dear,” Helen said, intervening before harsher words could be spoken. “It is Kaylin’s home. It is Kaylin’s invitation to extend.
If Kaylin asks it, I can prevent An’Tellarus from entering—that is easily within my capabilities.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Kaylin said, although Helen already knew it.
Mandoran frowned. “Annarion is against. Nightshade is here.”
“Helen won’t let anyone anywhere near him without Annarion’s permission.” Kaylin hesitated. She didn’t want to expose Yvonne’s possible abilities, because exposing Yvonne would put the Consort at serious risk.
But instinct sometimes drove her, and her instincts had been screaming for her attention since she’d met with the Consort.
It was just that everything else that had also been screaming for her attention had been a lot louder.
“I’m not certain, dear,” Helen said. “At another time, perhaps—but the Barrani Lords are clearly quite active, now. Is it
a risk you feel is worth taking?”
“I think it will lead us to Nightshade,” she finally said. “Or at least to having him regain consciousness.”
Kaylin wasn’t surprised when Annarion appeared at the height of the stairs. Barrani didn’t generally require sleep. Annarion,