Kaylin was so grateful and so relieved she had no words. Which is why she didn’t miss the next thing Mandoran said.
“And I’m coming with her, too.”
“What?”
“Well, I thought I’d take a look at the High Halls, visit what’s left of my family, and maybe join the Hawks.”
“Do not make that face, kitling,” said the Barrani Hawk whose eyes were still closed. She was massaging her forehead. “He can’t possibly get into more hair-raising trouble than you did.”
“But he’s—”
“You were thirteen when you started tagging along with us. If you’re telling me Mandoran can get into more trouble than a cocky thirteen-year-old mortal...”
“Yes?”
“You’re wrong.” She opened her eyes. “Mandoran is leaving now.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. You can leave the easy way or the hard way.”
He laughed. “If it makes you feel better, Lord Kaylin, she’s not going back strictly because she’s terrified of the new ways you’ll attempt suicide.”
“I have never attempted—”
“It’s because of Eddorian. Iberrienne has not been declared Outcaste, yet. The Emperor—a Dragon,” he added, with genuine disgust, “has ordered his death. But the Barrani might be able to contest this; the execution is not a public matter. At least, if Teela’s right. She’s going to talk to the High Lord, the Hawklord, and possibly the Emperor. I think she thinks it would help you, as well, although we’re not quite clear how.”
Because Severn wouldn’t be sent out again. Severn wouldn’t have to kill Iberrienne.
Mandoran headed toward the door after Teela propped herself up on one elbow.
* * *
In the darkness of Alsanis’s night, Kaylin heard singing in the distance. She glanced at Teela, or at what she could see of Barrani profile. “Can you hear the Consort?”
“Yes. She has always had a beautiful voice.”
“Do you know the song?”
“Yes.”
“Teela—”
“You saved them. You saved them when they didn’t know they wanted to be saved. I didn’t know it, either. They were only barely aware of their names; not aware enough to use them. They couldn’t hear me—but they couldn’t hear each other, either. Now we can. They’re not what they were. But I’m not what I was.
“What we did was stupid. It was reckless. It was willful.”
“You mean the names?”
“You see? You have been paying attention.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No. I will. I’m certain I will. But, no.” She fell silent for a long moment. “I had no idea, when I picked you up in the Halls, that this is where it would lead.”
Kaylin closed her eyes.
“I think Nightshade had hopes—and that angers me.”
“Teela—”
“If you’re going to tell me that at least they were hopes you approved of, save your breath. Every criminal feels justified in his actions. Every single one. Are you going to keep interrupting me?”
“No.”
“Hah. Where was I? Even if I had known, I wouldn’t have risked you. If the choice had been mine, you would have been packed up and sent back to the Halls.”
“I had the dress.”
“Yes. Which is why the choice wasn’t mine. It’s odd. My life has revolved around the day my mother died. My life in the High Court has been tainted by it; my family has certainly changed because of it. Only when I was in the Halls of Law was it irrelevant. And I valued that. I valued it highly. You were part of that life, not this one. I was enraged when Nightshade marked you. I was even less happy when you got lost and wandered into the test of name. His hand was behind it. Don’t bother denying it.
“But now, I’m wondering what he saw that I didn’t—or couldn’t. I wouldn’t have risked you here. Yet without you, we would—all of us—still be trapped. You’ve freed them. You’ve freed Alsanis. You’ve freed Barian.”
“His mother’s not thrilled about that.”
“Even better. I never liked my aunt. You’re interrupting again.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re interrupting an apology. From me.”
“It’s the shock.”
Teela chuckled.
“You don’t owe me an apology.”
“Not yet. But I will. You’ve proved yourself here. But you’re still a mortal. You’re still our mascot. I don’t think I can untangle that. I don’t—truth be known—want to.”
Kaylin relaxed into the pillow. She was surprised, because her throat tightened. She was, she realized, crying. But it was dark, and she was silent. Maybe Teela wouldn’t notice.
“What have I told you about crying?”
“It makes me look weak and pathetic.”
“Hasn’t changed.”
“I am weak and pathetic.”
“You don’t even understand what those words mean, kitling. You are, however, an idiot. But you’re my idiot, and I don’t intend to let go of you. Sedarias will keep court here for longer than your natural life. If I stay, you’ll age and you’ll die before we’re done. I’ll miss it all.”
“I hate mortality.”
“Not keen on it myself.”
The dragon hissed.
“Oh, shut up, you,” Teela told him.
* * * * *
Acknowledgments
My editor, Mary-Theresa Hussey, is a rock star. Seriously. The fact that this book is in your hands at all can be laid at her door. She has been patient, supportive, and encouraging. She has had to deal with me being Very Very VERY late—without strangling me. Which I probably deserve because when I’m late it throws a wrench into everyone else’s schedule.
My home team (Thomas, my two sons, my parents) had to deal with writer-mom-in-a-state-of-panic for way too many months, and as you can imagine, this was not pleasant for them. Also, the crew at the bookstore let me take time off (Chris Szego and Ben Freiman), while Leah Bobet covered shifts for me toward the book’s end.
My away team—my Australian alpha reader—read an awful lot on very, very short notice.
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ISBN: 9781460318126
CAST IN SORROW
Copyright © 2013 by Michelle Sagara
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