Michelle Sagara - Cast in Flame

“Well, I won’t argue that,” he replied. He was looking at the buildings that lined the streets, the people that walked them, the stray cats and dogs, and the clouds that scudded overhead, as if everything was both new and fascinating. It probably was. He had spent the past many centuries trapped inside the green, which had a tenuous understanding of physical form. At best. His eyes were a shade of blue-green, and he kept to the side of Teela that happened to be farthest from the Dragon. Kaylin had inserted herself between Teela and Bellusdeo, which meant Mandoran and Bellusdeo were as far apart as they could be while still heading in the same general direction.

They both turned heads, though.

Mandoran wasn’t encumbered by the regulation tabard that Teela wore, and Bellusdeo looked far more like a Lord of the Dragon Court—by dress, at least—than the average pedestrian. Most women who could afford to dress the way she did didn’t walk anywhere—they took carriages, and usually stayed behind their guards and footmen.

Kaylin grimaced. She almost wished Bellusdeo were in one of those carriages, because Elani street was the home of wheedling, enterprising frauds, most of whom could happily accost anyone that appeared to have money.

They were usually better behaved when their victims had Hawks as escorts. Mandoran, on the other hand, didn’t appear to understand that he was a victim. He responded to the offers—in this case, fortune-telling—with unfeigned curiosity and quick delight.

Teela raised a brow. Mandoran stiffened. Neither spoke out loud. They didn’t have to, if they wanted their conversation to be private; they knew each other’s true names. It had been centuries since either had had call to use them, if one ignored the past few weeks.

“Teela,” Mandoran said, “doesn’t want me to have fun here.”

“She’s working. You’ll add to the paperwork if you do.”

“Yes, that seems to be one of her fears. The other is attempting to throw me into...jail if I misbehave?”

“I imagine that would be a lot of fun,” Kaylin replied.

“I’ve offered to visit the High Halls instead of the city streets,” was his cheerful counter. “There, it won’t matter if foolish or stupid people die; it’s considered a form of suicide, and it isn’t Teela’s job to prevent that.”

“Why did we think this was a good idea?” Kaylin asked her fellow Hawk.

“I never thought it was a good idea, if I recall. I merely pointed out that compared to your induction into the Hawks, Mandoran was far less likely to be in danger. Or to indirectly cause it. I was perhaps optimistic about the latter.”

Mandoran snorted. So did Bellusdeo.

“I thought you were here to keep an eye on Annarion.”

At that, Mandoran’s smile dimmed. The color of his eyes shifted, but not into the midnight blue that generally meant upcoming injury or death. He glanced at Teela; Teela was studying the occupants of Elani street as if they were fascinating, dangerous, or both.

“You will have to tell me,” Bellusdeo said to Kaylin, “exactly what did happen on your pilgrimage. It seems you’ve acquired companions.”

“They’re Teela’s companions, not mine. And there are—at the moment—two of them in the city. You’ve met Mandoran. He’s the outgoing, friendly one with the questionable sense of humor.”

“It seems a fairly standard Barrani sense of humor, if less subtle than rumored.”

“He’s young for his age.”

“Not so young,” Mandoran cut in, “that he enjoys being talked about in the third person.”

“And not so mature,” the Dragon countered, “that he doesn’t enjoy talking about other people present in the same way.”

He grinned. His eyes were still a wary blue. “Fair enough.” He spoke Elantran. Kaylin doubted a similar phrase existed in Barrani.

“Where is Annarion anyway?”

“Kitling.”

Mandoran raised a black brow. “He’s visiting his brother.”

Nightshade.

“And no, before you ask, it’s not going well.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?”

“I wasn’t invited. Or rather, I was specifically not invited. Lord Calarnenne was willing to entertain Teela, but for some reason, Teela didn’t choose to accept his invitation.”

“I am uninterested in playing games of power with Nightshade.”

“But Annarion—”

“Is not in danger. Whatever else Nightshade intends in future, the death of his youngest brother is no part of his plan. It is safe for Annarion to rage only in the absence of witnesses. Nightshade didn’t invite me because he was concerned for Annarion’s safety; he wished to confine Annarion’s wrath. I,” she added, with a slender, sharp smile, “did not.” She glanced pointedly at the mark Nightshade had left on Kaylin’s cheek. It was just so much skin to the younger Hawk, but it never failed to annoy Teela.

“Heads up. Margot on the prowl,” Teela added.

Margot was possibly the person on Elani street Kaylin disliked the most, not that there was any shortage of rivals for that position. She was a tall, gorgeous redhead, and she made the color look natural. She was statuesque, her skin was fair, her eyes striking, and she could milk money out of stone by oozing wisdom and charm.

Neither of which Kaylin privately believed she had.

“She won’t come here,” Kaylin replied. “She’s seen me.”

If Kaylin played the least-favorite game, so did Margot. Kaylin was on the top of the Hawk’s list, and possibly near the top three across the board. She still blamed Kaylin for the loss of one of her most lucrative clients, which cost Kaylin no sleep at night, ever.

“Pretty,” Mandoran said, which didn’t help. Margot was not an idiot, whatever else one could call her; she cast an equally appreciative look at Mandoran, but kept her distance. Barrani affairs were seldom safe for mortals, and attempting to bilk a Barrani out of money was a mug’s game; it required stupidity and overbearing ego, and Margot only had one of the two. She pretty much failed to see Kaylin as Kaylin sauntered past.

“She is attractive,” Teela said—which was obviously meant to irritate Kaylin, because there wasn’t any other reason to say it out loud.

Bellusdeo shook her head. “By mortal standards, perhaps, but there’s a brittle edge to the line of her mouth I find unappealing.”

“Guys,” Kaylin snapped. “A little less ogling and a little more patrolling.”

“I’m not patrolling,” Mandoran chuckled.

“Technically, you’re not here.”

He laughed. “You know,” he said, “I think, when you have a place of your own, I’m going to be visiting a lot. You really are much less stodgy than Teela’s become.”

“Teela is no one’s definition of ‘stodgy.’”

“Kaylin will not be living on her own, and I don’t do drop-ins,” Bellusdeo pointed out. Her eyes remained golden. Mandoran’s had edged toward green, but a stubborn streak of blue persisted. If he eventually chose to be comfortable around a Dragon, it wasn’t going to be today.

He shrugged. “From the sound of it, you’re not going to find much of a place of your own anyway.”

“I can find a place,” Kaylin said. “And Bellusdeo, despite appearances, doesn’t require something palatial or even regal, given where we were living before.”

“Oh, it’s not your friend that’s going to be the problem.” He glanced at Teela’s expressionless face, and added, “on the other hand, it could be worse for you. You could be living with Tain.” His grimace looked nothing like a Barrani expression.

Teela cleared her throat. Loudly.

“You’re living with Tain?”

“If you can call it living, yes. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to want me to see much of your fair city. I want,” he added, “to visit the Leontines I hear you have living here. I didn’t even know they could function in cities. But your Sergeant seems fine wearing clothes.”