Michelle Sagara - Cast in Flame

“I don’t envy you.”

“Evanton—you never envy me.”

“Astute. I am, however, making the onerous attempt not to pity you.”

“Thanks. I think.” She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a foot tapping. It was Teela’s.

“Come back and have tea when you have more time to tell me about the past few months.”

* * *

Teela didn’t take Evanton’s advice. She switched patrolling positions and let Kaylin—and the armored Dragon—take the lead. If Kaylin had privately envied the attention that Bellusdeo drew when they were together—and she pretty much drew it all—she repented; people were practically dropping their jaws at the sight of her now. On the other hand, very few of those people—some who were very familiar to the Hawks—dared to approach her, something the court dress hadn’t seemed to discourage.

Bellusdeo looked like a Dragon now. Many mortals had no reason to ever cross a Dragon’s path, and because they hadn’t, it was easy to mistake them for human. From a distance, that’s what they more or less resembled. Their eye color—and the inner eye membrane—were a giveaway only when you were close enough to examine the Dragon’s face. Most people had no reason to get that close.

No one could mistake a Dragon in dragon form for a mortal—but when you were looking at giant scales, wings, claws and tail, that was understandable.

Dragon armor, even wrapped around a human-size body—albeit a tall one—was distinctive. And at least one of the gargantuan statues of the Eternal Emperor that littered the more respectable parts of Elantra sported it—with metallic leafing. The first time Kaylin had seen that statue, she’d thought the artist a pretentious nit. The first time she’d seen the armor in actual use—on Tiamaris—she’d silently apologized to that unknown artist, which she felt was fair, since it was the same way she’d dismissed him.

Bellusdeo therefore looked like a Dragon as she strode down Elani street by Kaylin’s side. It made the day’s work a lot easier, and as long as Kaylin ignored the probable consequences of the need for Dragon armor, she could be grateful.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mandoran was silent upon leaving Evanton’s shop. He was silent throughout the rest of their patrol. Anything that had caught his attention when they’d first reached Elani street failed to grab it now; he was almost grim. No, Kaylin thought, Teela was grim. Mandoran looked as if he was walking to—or from—the funeral of a very close friend.

Kaylin wanted to speak with him, but given Teela’s expression and the casual way in which she now hovered, it wasn’t safe. But if it had been, what then? Words—especially words of comfort—weren’t exactly Kaylin’s strong suit. Sadly, inactivity wasn’t, either. She wanted to do something to help, while being privately certain that any attempt would only make things worse.

“Kaylin?” Bellusdeo said.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About?”

“If I had a suit of armor like yours, Elani street would be a lot easier to manage.”

“Fear has that effect.” The Dragon grinned. “The only thing your citizens seem to fear is the Emperor.”

“Not true.”

“No?”

“They fear starvation, disease, and homelessness. Among other things.”

A golden brow rose in a distinct arch at Kaylin’s snappish reply. “I touched a nerve.”

She had. Kaylin’s response was a fief shrug. “It’s not easy being a mortal.” Before Bellusdeo could speak, she added, “It’s not easy being immortal, either. I’m coming to understand that. But our fears aren’t your fears. I think there’s overlap. Anyone, of any race, gets lonely. Anyone, of any race, can feel both grief and loss.

“But most of our lives aren’t taken up with war and larger-than-life magical conspiracies. We die anyway, no matter what we do. And you won’t. But the lives we live aren’t insignificant to us; if we only have a handful of years, we want them more.”

“I will not even argue that. Perhaps life is like friendship.”

Kaylin glanced at her.

“If you have many, many friends, friendship is a given, a matter of fact. If you have—at most—one or two, it is rare, it is precious. The loss of a friend in that case is shattering because one cannot assume that there will necessarily be others. I did not mean to diminish either your fears or your experience.”

“...No.” Kaylin exhaled. “I used to think that people like you had it easy.”

Bellusdeo didn’t seem surprised by this.

“You’re beautiful. You’re charismatic. You never get old, or fat, you’ve never been plain—or ugly. You don’t get diseases. The cold won’t kill you. You don’t need to sleep. You’re never going to starve. If worse comes to worst, you can hunt. I used to think—when I was a child—that if I were Barrani, I would never, ever have to be afraid.”

“The Barrani are not without fear.”

“No, I know that now. Neither are the Dragons—they just fear different things. All the things that terrified me as a child in the fiefs would never have been able to hurt me had I been you or Teela. It didn’t really occur to me that other things could. My life was a desperate, mortal life. Until the marks appeared on half my body.”

“And yet you do not seem to be comfortable with them.”

Kaylin grimaced. Honestly, if she didn’t stop doing that, her face would get stuck that way. “A dozen children were killed because these marks existed. Two of them were my family. I’d trade the marks, even now, if I could have them back.

“But I love my life. I mean, I hate parts of it—don’t get me started on Sergeant Mallory or the idiots who demand nothing but paperwork—but I was helpless when I was that child. I couldn’t have imagined living the life I have now; even escaping the fiefs was a daydream, something that other people did.”

“What you love about your life now is that you can make a difference?”

Kaylin’s nod was so instant and emphatic, she should have gotten whiplash.

“Even if that difference involves total strangers?”

“It’s why I’m a Hawk.”

“I will say that the only thing that makes me reconsider my opinion of the Emperor is the Halls of Law. It’s the Hawks, in particular. There are many, many ways he could have approached ruling a city of this size. Or the Empire outside of it. To most of my kin, these laws of yours would be incomprehensible. They were made for mortals, designed for them, and are enforced by them.”

Teela coughed. Loudly.

Bellusdeo chuckled. “Mostly enforced by them. In the Aeries of my youth, the suggestion would have been a joke—at best. Only the sentimental, the naive, or the foolish would have dared to suggest it.”

“So...you think better of the Emperor because he’s sentimental, naive or foolish?”

Teela coughed again. It was louder. “Do remember, kitling, that you’re likely to be observed, hmm?”

“It’s a joke.”

“Yes. And Immortals are famous for their well-developed sense of humor.”

Mandoran said, in all the wrong tone of voice, “I’m amazed that my kin have consented to be ruled by a Dragon.”

“And I’m amazed,” Bellusdeo replied, as Kaylin cringed, “that a Dragon has consented to rule Barrani, given the damage they’ve done to our people.”

Kaylin turned to look over her shoulder; Teela had fixed her with a glare so pointed she should have spontaneously started to bleed. “Good job,” she mouthed, in Elantran.

Arrogant, annoyed Mandoran was probably better than grieving, morose Mandoran. Probably. On the other hand, arrogant, resentful Bellusdeo?

* * *

By the time they returned to the office, Mandoran and Bellusdeo were figuratively bristling; had they been Leontine, it would have been literal. Color had returned to Mandoran’s face, but it wasn’t what Kaylin would consider particularly healthy. Color had mostly left Bellusdeo’s lips, they were compressed so tightly. They had descended—ascended?—to raised voices half a dozen times; Bellusdeo apparently considered the loss of Kaylin’s home and the possible loss of Kaylin’s life almost unforgiveable. Kaylin’s attempt to point out that Mandoran had not in any way been responsible for the Arcane bomb, given he wasn’t even resident in the Empire, fell on selectively deaf ears.