Michelle Sagara - Cast in Flame

Kaylin’s arms tightened. “And what, exactly, is that?”

“A displaced person. She is very much the equivalent of the Norannir. You think of her as a Lord of the Court, and you have some rudimentary understanding of the political power that title might give her. She lives in the Palace, and not in the mean streets of the fiefs that border Ravellon. She has food, should she desire it, and clothing; she has money. But the Norannir have more freedom than Bellusdeo now does.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why not say this to the Emperor?”

“Do you think I have not?” His eyes shaded to a color that was more copper than orange. Kaylin couldn’t remember what it meant, she’d seen it so rarely. In fact, she’d seen it only once: in Bellusdeo’s eyes. “I have told the Emperor that Bellusdeo cannot live in a cage. He does not intend to cage her—but regardless, he does. She is too valuable to risk. We have already seen how close to disaster we came.”

“Arkon—” Kaylin froze, and only in part because the muted draconic voices had risen in volume. “Please tell me this argument has nothing to do with my moving out.”

“You are not, that I recall, fond of unnecessary dishonesty.” He took a seat. It was the only seat in the room that seemed to have enough exposed surface to sit on. “If Bellusdeo can be said to have one friend in the Empire, it is you. She found your absence far more difficult than either she—or you—had imagined she would.”

“She said this?”

“Of course not.” He winced; it took Kaylin a couple of seconds to realize it wasn’t because of anything she’d said. Unlike her, he could understand every word that was being said. Or shouted. “You have made it clear to Bellusdeo that life in the Imperial Palace does not suit you.”

“Not in those exact words, no.”

“Refrain from repeating the exact phrasing.”

Because Kaylin loved her job on most days, she did.

“You intend to find another domicile?”

“Yes. As soon as I can.” When he lifted a brow, she thought of the job she loved—none of which included pandering to annoyed Dragons. On the other hand, survival often did. “Look, there are people who would kill to live in the Palace. I’m certain of it. But they’re the people the Hawklord goes out of his way to prevent me from meeting. Everything in my Palace rooms—everything—costs more than the clothing on my back. I feel like I should bathe before I step foot through the door.

“I can’t leave or enter without an inquisition. I have to deal with Imperial Guards on a daily basis for no other reason than that I live here.”

“They are there for the protection and security of our guests.”

“Fine. But I don’t want to be a guest in my own home. I want to be able to live there. Bellusdeo is a Dragon. When she dons Court dresses, they fit her and look good. She understands the powerful. She has power. I’m a groundhawk. I can barely make ends meet on my cruddy pay. I’m not in her class—and I know it.

“I came from the fiefs. I work on the streets. I don’t belong here, and I can’t be happy where I don’t belong.”

“You are a Lord of the High Court.”

“The Barrani High Court, and you know damn well I don’t have to live in the High Halls.”

“You have visited them before.”

“I visited them with Teela.”

“And the difference?”

She grimaced. There was a difference. She wasn’t certain what it was. “Teela’s a Hawk.”

“And Bellusdeo is not.”

“Bellusdeo would never swear the oath the Halls of Law require.”

“No. Lord Teela did?”

“Lord Teela doesn’t give a damn about nonbinding oaths. They’re just words, as far as the Barrani are concerned. There is no way Marcus would ever allow Bellusdeo to join the Hawks.”

“Ah, yes. Your Sergeant’s famous mistrust of my kind.” His eyes, however, shaded toward gold. He clearly found Marcus amusing. “Your Teela understands the High Court, and she avoids it where possible. But if you enter that world, she enters it beside you—and she warns others, by presence alone, that there are consequences to any actions they might take against you. Bellusdeo cannot do that, here. And she is aware that she lacks that ability; the Palace is not her home. It is not an environment with which she is familiar, or over which she has ultimate control.

“Still, she tries. She targets Diarmat with the full brunt of her outraged disdain. Her outrage,” he added, “is genuine. She feels your marks are not accorded the respect they are due. She does not fully consider the advantage in being underestimated— and I will say, now, that there is a distinct advantage to you, in my opinion. She feels a debt of gratitude to you.”

“I didn’t do anything for her gratitude. I did it because...because....”

“Oh, do continue. I’m certain it will be fascinating. You did it because that’s what anyone would do?”

Kaylin shrugged. It was a fief shrug. Fief shrugs, on the other hand, were not a language with which the Arkon chose to be familiar.

“You grew up in the fiefs. You are aware that you are lying. Even if you aren’t, there are very few—I can think of almost no one—who could do for Bellusdeo what you did. She would have died there.” His gaze slid off hers. “I am not certain, at this moment, that fate would not be preferable in her mind. Yes, the discussion in progress—and to my mind it will be some hours before it is done—involves both your residence and hers.” He closed his eyes. “She is in pain, Kaylin. She is grieving. For us, the grief is long past; it exists only in echoes, when we turn our thoughts to the past.

“For Bellusdeo it is new. It makes her reckless. More reckless,” he added, as if this were necessary. “You see her as a Dragon, which is fair. You will age, you will die; she will live forever. She is favored by an Emperor we still consider it wise that you never meet; she is given leeway that would be granted no one else. All of this is true. It is not, however, the only truth.

“I understand that the loss of your home was due to her presence. Believe, Kaylin, that she understands this, as well. If you do not resent her for the loss—if you do not speak against her companionship—she will go where you go.”

“You...want me to move out with her.”

“No. I feel it prudent to advise you that her presence will make your life far more difficult than it might otherwise be. I want her to move out with you. I am of the opinion—at the moment—that the benefits that accrue will go in one direction; I am aware—as you are—of the risks that move entails. If Bellusdeo does accompany you, the Imperial Treasury will cover a large portion of your rental costs.”

Kaylin’s arms tightened, but she said nothing. She’d been able to afford her one-room apartment, even with Bellusdeo as a roommate. She wasn’t so flush with money that money itself was irrelevant. But...she really didn’t like the idea. At all. “She hasn’t even asked me, you know.”

“I know. She will not ask if she cannot argue the Emperor around; it would be too humiliating.”

And having a screaming fight that an entire palace had no choice but to hear wasn’t? “I don’t want my home surrounded by bloody Imperial Guards.”

The Arkon raised a white brow.

“I mean it. I don’t want home to be a jail.”

“Bellusdeo will have a security detail.”

“I apparently have a security detail, if by that you mean Imperial spies. I can’t stop them from watching my every move. I just want to pretend that they don’t.”

“Why?”

Dragons. Ugh.

“And your other demands?”

Kaylin had none. She felt guilty, because one of the things she’d been so looking forward to was having a place of her own again. She’d had nothing when she’d come from the fiefs. But she’d had hope for the future—with the Hawks, within Elantra. What hope did Bellusdeo now have that was similar?