Epilogue
“I want you to meet the Consort.”
Yvonne flinched.
“You could approach the Lake of Life. So can she. She isn’t political, even if she occupies a very political position. She
loves both of her brothers. I’m not sure she was as fond of her father. Word’s going to spread.”
“I’ve never mentioned it. An’Tellarus said it wasn’t worth my life.”
“I’m not sure anyone would kill you—but I think if people know, the Consort is vastly less safe. And she won’t care about
that. She’ll only care about the Lake, and the future of the Barrani people. If she knows you can do what she does, she’ll
feel relieved.”
Helen had opened the parlor for Kaylin and Yvonne. But the doors that normally opened into a fancy room with equally fancy
furnishings opened, instead, to a late afternoon sky. A path led from the doors, of interlocking stone in pale colors, hemmed
in by grass and rows of flowers. None were flowers that grew in the green.
“You could help her,” Kaylin added. What she’d managed to do for Nightshade, she’d achieved because of the Erenne mark that had driven such a wedge between the two brothers.
She didn’t have a similar mark placed on her by the Consort.
Given it was a sign of vast disrespect, she’d never have one, either.
Yvonne swallowed. “You like her.”
“We’ve had our arguments,” Kaylin replied. “But . . . yes. I think the hardest thing about those arguments was her sudden
coldness.”
“I’ll have to speak with Ollarin.”
Kaylin nodded. And hesitated. She knew she’d be grilled by the cohort when they finished their interrogation—and after they
actually managed to get Nightshade to rest. Kaylin had her own reasons for wanting to avoid the Consort, but she knew Yvonne
wouldn’t visit her unless she were also present.
Not that Kaylin’s presence was a guarantee of safety; these days, it seemed the exact opposite.
Yvonne reached out, almost hesitant, toward the new lizard. It turned its head in her direction, but she withdrew her hand
before she could touch it.
“Does it feel familiar?” Kaylin asked.
“It does.”
“Dangerous?”
Yvonne shook her head. “It—I know this is going to sound strange—but it feels like sleep.”
“Does it remind you of the green?”
Yvonne glanced at Kaylin’s dress and considered the question. “It wouldn’t if you hadn’t asked, but yes. Your dress really
does. And the Teller’s crown. But Lord Nightshade is right: it’s too early for the regalia. And I don’t think the green means for us to go to the West March. I think . . . the green intends, somehow, to come to us.”
That wasn’t what Kaylin wanted to hear, but it didn’t surprise her. The Lord of the West March had already arrived. She wondered
if Yvonne had been sent from the green by the green. But Yvonne had been here for years. The green and its flowers hadn’t figured much in Elantra until Mrs. Erickson.
No, be fair. Until Azoria and her flowers and her terrible paintings, and her attempt to become something other. “Was it the
green that led you to the Lake?”
“. . . I think so. It felt like a dream, a waking dream. But I slept for a long time in the green, and I dreamed there.”
“What did you dream of?”
“Flowers and shadow and death,” Yvonne replied, and turned her face to the side. “Death was the last thing I saw. I wasn’t
afraid of death in the green. I wasn’t awake enough to be afraid of anything. I knew—I knew that if the green took me in,
I would be safe.”
“But you didn’t want to stay there?”
“I didn’t have the choice. I was found, I was alive, and the very few people I cared about were happy. I offered to stay in
the green where I’d be safe, but the green wouldn’t let me back in. So I came to Ollarin. An’Tellarus made certain I arrived
safely. And I’ve been there ever since. How do you know Severn?”
“We were children together in the fiefs. In Nightshade,” she added bitterly. “You?”
“I was part of his test. Because he passed, he could wield the weapon of the green, and I could wake up and emerge.” She hesitated
again. “You’re friends, right?”
Kaylin nodded. “We’ve had our disagreements as well.”
“It’s just . . . I think I heard your name while I was sleeping.”
Kaylin fell silent.
“I don’t think Severn’s test is over yet.”
The silence changed. “What do you mean?”
“The weapon he wields—it’s the weapon of the green. The green tests those who want to wield it. He passed the test. But I
don’t think it was the last test.”
They were silent again. The silence was broken by Hope and the hatchling, their voices a much quieter clash of sound than their roaring had been.
Squawk.
“What now?”
Yvonne looked at Hope as if he’d expended enough power to make himself understood. The young Barrani woman swallowed and nodded;
she didn’t answer in words Kaylin could understand.
But the shadow on Kaylin’s left shoulder opened its mouth, and a spout of purple fire left its jaws.
“Tell Lord Nightshade to wear the Teller’s crown if he leaves this place,” Yvonne said. “I will do my best to convince An’Tellarus
and Ollarin that meeting the Consort is safe.”
When Yvonne left, Kaylin walked her from the garden to the front door. An’Tellarus was waiting. The moment she left Helen’s
boundaries, her clothing would revert to the bloodstained remnants of her very fine dress. She knew it and seemed unconcerned.
“Sedarias offered her more suitable clothing. An’Tellarus declined,” Helen said. “I believe she wishes to make a statement—and
she will, when she arrives at the High Halls. She is feared for a reason.”
“Probably because she’s not sane,” Terrano muttered. He was invisible.
“She doesn’t have to worry about social grace, no,” Helen replied, a hint of disapproval in her tone. “But she is not bored,
and boredom, where An’Tellarus is concerned, has always been dangerous for anyone who isn’t An’Tellarus.
“You should eat,” Helen added, turning to Kaylin. “And sleep. I’m afraid your color is terrible.”
Kaylin was exhausted. Her shoulder hurt. She’d never truly appreciated Hope’s lack of weight before. “Helen, can you see the
hatchling?”
“Yes.”
“Terrano?”
“You mean that smoky shadow sitting on your left shoulder, glaring at the world?”
“That one.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Later,” Kaylin replied. “I’ll tell you all later.”
“Sedarias wants to hear it now. Teela agrees with Helen. She wants you to eat in your room, hopefully before you fall over.”
“Is there a reason you’re hiding?”
Terrano materialized. “I was avoiding An’Tellarus. I think Yvonne is a bit like Serralyn, just interested in different things.
I think An’Tellarus is terrifying.” He winced. “Annarion also agrees with Teela, and he’s coming downstairs to make sure you
actually make it to your room without tripping on the stairs on the way up.”
Annarion was standing on the last step, arms folded. He reminded her of Teela in that moment. His eyes were an odd color,
not the dark blue the combat had all but demanded, but not the green-flecked blue that meant danger had passed.
She frowned. “You’re injured.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“She will,” Helen added.
“My brother took worse, and he’s fine.” The wealth of sarcasm turned the sentence on its head.
“Did you get him back to bed?”
“He’s resting.” Which meant no. “He doesn’t need sleep. He says he’s slept enough for a decade.”
“That wasn’t sleep. He was unconscious.”
“What’s the difference?” Before Kaylin could answer, Annarion frowned. “Mandoran thinks you’re trying to distract me. He says it doesn’t matter whether or not my brother needs sleep—you need it. You look awful.”
She felt awful, truth be told. As if the days of terrible tension and anxiety she’d been bracing herself against had suddenly
folded, and she was left pushing back against nothing.
Annarion slid an arm around her shoulder. She tensed—she always did—but accepted it and let him take on some of her weight.
They made it halfway up the stairs before he took on all her weight; he lifted her off her feet. His gaze skirted the Erenne
mark and shied away.
“Can you forgive him now?” Kaylin asked, her voice soft because she was so exhausted.
Annarion opened his mouth, closed it, and continued up the stairs. Hope had adjusted his position. The hatchling had not,
and almost fell, because Hope had pushed him off the shoulder he’d occupied. “What is that?” Annarion asked with obvious relief.
“Another familiar?”
Hope squawked. It was the unhappy, disgusted squawk, but at least it wasn’t aimed at her.
“I don’t know. Right now, it’s not my problem. It’s not biting me, it’s not trying to burn me to ash, and it’s not hostile.
I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“Serralyn asks if you’d like her to speak with the librarians.”
“As long as I don’t hear what they have to say until tomorrow, sure. She can use me as an excuse to get into the library.”
Annarion chuckled. The sound faded. Kaylin had closed her eyes. “I never hated him,” he said. “I was so angry, and so disappointed.”
“You know he probably did this—the mark, I mean—because of you, right?”
Annarion’s arms tensed. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say, but she really didn’t have enough energy to make
sure only the right things left her mouth.
Kaylin made sure she met, and held, Annarion’s gaze. “He wanted to rescue you.”
“Did he ever say that?”
“No—but why would he? He was the fieflord. I was a fiefling who’d managed to escape. I knew nothing about him besides that.
Why would I care about his brother? I hadn’t met you yet.” She hesitated. “I met him once when he was younger. There was a
big upheaval—a time storm, I think someone called it? The fiefs are unstable when the Towers aren’t properly captained.
“He was different, then. I couldn’t imagine that he would become the Nightshade I knew.”
“Neither could I.”
“But he recognized the Erenne mark. And he knew he hadn’t put it there—not yet. It was one of the first things he did when