Michelle Sagara

Cast in Flame


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She managed to more or less explain to Caitlin the outcome of the interview with Marten Anders, but the sound of Dragon fury meant Caitlin was reduced to lip-reading for half the call. Calling to grovel about missed appointments was out of the question. Caitlin offered to do it for her.

      Apparently, sleep was out of the question, as well.

      Staying in the Palace, however, had less than zero appeal; Kaylin didn’t want to hide in the library with a sarcastic, cranky Arkon, although she did consider asking him if he had a spare bed in one of his maze of treasure rooms. She paced for a bit while the small dragon warbled in the breaks between Dragon “conversation.” There weren’t that many of them.

      When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she mirrored Teela. She almost cut the call when she saw the color of Teela’s eyes: very, very blue.

      “Unless Bellusdeo has burned down a city block or two, this is not a good time,” the Barrani Hawk said.

      “I think she’s trying to burn down the Emperor, if that counts.”

      “It doesn’t, unless she manages to succeed.” Teela frowned as Kaylin lost sound. When it returned—or rather, when outrage receded between the long, long breaths Dragons could draw, Teela’s brows had risen. “You’re not half wrong,” she said, in Elantran. “How long have they been going at it?”

      “An hour. Maybe more. I have no idea how long they’ll be at it either— Oh, I think that one’s Diarmat.”

      Teela started to speak, rolled her eyes, and stopped. “Lord Diarmat. Honestly, kitling, when in the Palace, try to observe proper form.”

      “I’m heading out of the Palace because at this point, I can’t. Try, I mean.” She frowned. “Teela, where exactly are you right now?”

      The Barrani Hawk grinned. It was a cat’s grin. “You finally recognize the room?”

      Kaylin was silent for a long moment. “Where’s Severn?”

      Teela glanced to the side of the mirror and held out her right hand, still grinning. “I win,” she said.

      Severn came into the mirror’s view. He looked about as pleased to lose a bet as Kaylin would have, which wasn’t her biggest concern. “Why is Teela at your place?”

      “Teela,” Teela replied before Severn could, “was bored.”

      “I mean it, Teela. I know what you do when you’re bored.”

      “If you’re not going to play with him, I don’t see why you should be so proprietary; he’s a big boy.”

      Severn raised a brow in Teela’s direction. “I’m the substitute Tain for the evening.”

      “Why does she need a substitute?”

      “The one she has is currently babysitting. I hear Mandoran caused a bit of excitement on Elani street.”

      “Where he wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t been in session with the Wolves.” Kaylin’s frown deepened. She was certain Severn had heard maybe three words of the last sentence, but wasn’t willing to bet on it; the Dragons weren’t pausing for much. “What does she need Tain for?”

      “She’s not an idiot.”

      “Why, thank you,” Teela drawled.

      Severn didn’t blink or otherwise indicate he’d heard her. “Tain’s about the best backup she has.”

      “Why does she need backup? What’s going down?” The small dragon sat up and leaned forward, adding his version of inner membranes to the mirror’s surface.

      Severn didn’t reply. But he did glance—pointedly—at the Barrani Hawk. It was no answer, but it was answer enough for Kaylin. “Don’t leave without me,” she said abruptly.

      Teela’s eyes were already dark enough they didn’t change color. “You are not—”

      Kaylin cut the communication. The mirror was already doing a lightning jig as she grabbed her boots and daggers, putting them both on. It wasn’t safe to ignore Teela when she was in this mood, but Kaylin was done, for the moment, with caution. Teela didn’t need backup to go to a bar. She didn’t need muscle. Nothing that could happen in a bar could threaten her life in any real way.

      And there weren’t a lot of places she could go that made Severn the ideal replacement backup. In fact, Kaylin thought, as she laced up her boots, there was really only one.

      Nightshade.

      * * *

      Kaylin decided to accept the Imperial carriage offered as a matter of course to guests of any note living within the Palace. For perhaps the first time, she was grateful for the screaming fury of Dragon debate; it meant Bellusdeo wouldn’t be able to follow her.

      She wasn’t expecting to be stopped by anything other than stiff, formal, condescending guards. These could be safely ignored. The person who met her in the halls as she all but raced toward the stable yards, not so much: no one ignored the Arkon if he didn’t want to be ignored.

      Teela wasn’t going to wait forever. Severn could only stall her for so long. Damn it. She skidded to a halt; the only other option was running into the ancient Dragon.

      “I can’t talk,” she told him, before he’d opened his mouth.

      “Demonstrably untrue.”

      “I’m heading out for the evening.”

      “I had guessed you might, given the tenor of the unfortunate conversation.”

      “Is this something that can wait until I get back?”

      He was looking, pointedly, at her daggers. “No. It might have escaped your notice, Private, but I am not currently in my library.”

      Kaylin bit back sarcasm with extreme difficulty. “Apologies, Arkon.” A white brow rose as she slid into High Barrani.

      “Accepted. There were apparently some difficulties this afternoon.”

      “Yes—we explained them to Sanabalis. Er... Lord Sanabalis.”

      “Indeed. I think the Emperor was not entirely sanguine about those difficulties; it is certain to come up in the conversation.”

      “It hasn’t, yet?”

      “No. Bellusdeo is extremely unamused.”

      “Diarmat—Lord Diarmat—doesn’t sound all that happy either.” It was the tiny silver lining on the gigantic storm cloud.

      “He is not, but he is not a man who generally radiates either happiness or contentment. He is also not enough incentive for an old man to leave his library.”

      Kaylin took the hint and shut up, silently urging the Arkon to cough up his reasons as fast as humanly possible. Or dragonly.

      “I am concerned about the difficulties, as well. The afternoon’s,” he added. “The current argument between the Dragon Court and Bellusdeo is nowhere near resolution and only an optimist or a fool would expect it to reach a satisfactory resolution in the near future.”

      “Please tell me the near future is within the next few decades.”

      He ignored this. “The Barrani, Mandoran. He was one of twelve Barrani children selected to undergo a significant rite of passage in the West March.”

      Gods. If he started asking about that, she’d be in these halls longer than Bellusdeo would be in the throne room. “Yes.”

      “Lord Teela was one of the same twelve.”

      “Yes.”

      “The only one of the twelve to return from the West March.”

      “Until very recently, yes.”

      “Your answers are evasive, Private Neya.”

      “They’re