to ditch her Barrani guests, Kaylin looked to Severn, who raised a brow. But he did nod, and headed toward the dining room, which had become the equivalent of an informal parlor. There was a lot of room, it had chairs and it was always well lit. The Hawks used it the way they used the benches in the mess hall; the parlor was almost intimidating in its formality by comparison.
Kaylin hung back.
“She knows what you’re doing,” Mandoran said cheerfully.
“Great. Can you tell her that I enjoy being worried about as much as she does?”
“Yes,” Teela said, before Mandoran could reply, “and when you’ve got centuries of experience under your belt, I’ll stop.”
Which, of course, meant never, because Kaylin wasn’t immortal and was, in all likelihood, never going to see one century.
She kept seeing Clint without wings. It was his wings she had loved first. Everything else had followed, as wings—and what they meant to Kaylin—made way for the person to whom they were attached.
And yes, that probably meant Teela was right. The Aerians were people, just like any other people; the fact that they had one physical characteristic that was at the heart of Kaylin’s many, many daydreams and longings was Kaylin’s problem, not theirs. They didn’t owe her her dreams. They didn’t have to live up to them.
To Helen, she said, “Can I use the mirror?”
“Now, dear?”
Sarcasm came and went. Kaylin managed to keep it to herself, but Helen, who could read the thoughts of almost anyone who entered the house, heard it all. Helen, like Tara, didn’t mind hearing it all.
“Why is now bad?”
“Lord Nightshade is still speaking with his brother.”
“And?”
“I still don’t trust him. It requires a diversion of attention in order to properly contain the intrusion of the mirror network.”
“I honestly don’t think he’s going to do anything damaging or stupid—at least not to you.”
“No. But Annarion is at his least stable when his brother is visiting, and it takes some effort to contain the possible danger of his instability, as well.”
Kaylin exhaled, nodding glumly.
* * *
Moran did not come down to dinner. Bellusdeo and Maggaron did, the former dressed in something other than her armor. Kaylin was certain she’d be hearing about the armor sometime in the morning, and tried not to think about it too much.
The entire dining table fell silent when Annarion joined them, because Annarion brought his brother. Both he and Nightshade were blue-eyed, and it wasn’t the resting state of caution and natural superstition; it was dark.
Annarion bowed very formally and very correctly; Mandoran snorted. Loudly. While both Teela and Tain had stiffened into the type of formality that signaled the possibility of upcoming death, Mandoran lounged. He nodded at Nightshade as if the fieflord were mortal.
Helen set a place for the unexpected guest without being asked. But Helen, like Teela and Tain, had an air that was distinctly more martial. The dining room became, with the insertion of Nightshade, a small battlefield. On the other hand, the cutlery didn’t turn into daggers or swords.
Nightshade’s seat was not beside Annarion; nor was it beside Kaylin. It was between Bellusdeo and Teela. A dark, perfect brow rose as he glanced at Helen; his lips folded into something too sardonic to be a smile. An acknowledgment, perhaps. Her suspicion did not offend him.
No, Kaylin thought with some surprise. The only thing in the room that appeared to do that was the younger brother he had come to visit.
The table was silent for a good five minutes. This was almost miraculous for a house that contained Kaylin and Mandoran. Kaylin was willing to swallow words; she was too ill at ease to speak without thinking, and her thoughts were so tied up in the Aerian problem she didn’t have any left over to waste on not offending Barrani.
You will not offend me. No one but Kaylin could hear Nightshade’s voice, a reminder—probably deliberate—that they were bound by his True Name. She started, flushed and met his gaze. His eyes were much greener, but given his seating, not green.
You have this thing about dignity and proper respect. All of you do, except Mandoran, Kaylin replied.
I was long considered overly tolerant among my own kin.
How many of those that believed this are still alive?
His eyes widened. She’d surprised him. And amused him; the two expressions chased across his face, easing the lines of tension slightly. A few. At least one of them is at this table now.
He could only mean Teela. Kaylin’s gaze swiveled toward her, and veered at the last minute. Too late. This amused Nightshade, as well. It had never been Kaylin’s life’s ambition to amuse Lord Nightshade.
“I hear,” he said gravely, “that you had an eventful morning.”
She nodded, glaring at Mandoran. Mandoran shrugged his lazy, bored shrug. It was too long, too indolent, and too graceful to properly be the fief shrug that he was trying to copy. “Annarion was worried.”
“Don’t try to shift blame,” Bellusdeo said. “You were bored.”
“Well, I was until the street cracked,” Mandoran replied with an unrepentant grin. “Pursuit was interesting, as well. Everything else has been a letdown.”
Nightshade glanced at his brother, who was glaring at Mandoran silently, but not, Kaylin was certain, wordlessly.
“Annarion said only that there had been an attack, a possible assassination attempt. Did he not refer to Lord Bellusdeo?”
Mandoran snorted. “No. I’d understand it if someone tried to kill her.”
Maggaron was destroying cutlery in the sudden tension of his grip. His very large grip. No one spoke.
Interesting. Who was the target? Nightshade asked Kaylin.
She really hated Mandoran at the moment.
And that is interesting. You lie even when no one else can hear you.
Someone can always hear me, she shot back.
I have been somewhat occupied of late. Your Helen does not trust me at all. She is willing to tolerate me, but only for Annarion’s sake. She does, however, bear obvious fondness for him. I am therefore guarding myself on two fronts, and even this conversation is likely to annoy her immensely.
He was probably right.
I cannot hear your thoughts when you are in your home.
You can hear them now.
Yes, and that is unexpected. I am not certain why she allowed my words to reach you. Perhaps she hoped that it would make the rest of the discussion less awkward.
What discussion?
He chuckled, although his face was perfectly composed. You did not answer my question.
Not mine to answer. She thought of Moran—just a brief flicker of awareness of how little Moran wanted to be the subject of any discussion. And of course, that stray thought was enough.
But she hadn’t expected the stillness that spread out from Lord Nightshade. She’d thought him still and composed when he sat; she’d thought him still and composed during the opening salvos of what promised to be a less-than-comfortable dinner. He was frozen now, for one long minute that threatened to spiral out of control, taking what little sound and light there was entirely out of the room.
“What,”