Michelle Sagara - Cast In Flight

“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.

Chapter 5

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,” Nightshade said, “are you doing housing the lllumen praevolo? Have you lost your mind?”

* * *

Kaylin wondered, briefly, why he’d asked the question out loud.

“I thought it best,” Helen replied. “I am somewhat occupied at the moment, and I did not feel that dinner conversation would become difficult. I apologize for my lapse in supervision.”

Kaylin realized two things then. First: Nightshade would no longer be able to speak with her through the bond of True Name; Helen had killed that avenue of private discussion. Second, and more troubling, that Helen had allowed it to begin with. Kaylin didn’t believe that the lapse, as she called it, was accidental. Nor did she think that Helen truly believed that the conversation would not be difficult, given the way she clearly felt about Nightshade.

Her house had lied to her. What she couldn’t understand was why—and just in case Helen was listening in, she made it clear that she didn’t need to understand why right this very second. Later would do, if they all survived the meal.

“What did you say?” she asked Nightshade.

“I asked if you had taken leave of your senses.”

“Before that.”

“Illumen praevolo?”

They were the exact words Lillias had spoken. Lillias had been fragile, nervous, afraid. Nightshade was none of those things. “Yes, that. What does it mean?”

“It means nothing to humans,” he replied. His eyes were a glittering blue, hard as sapphires as they absorbed the room’s light. “It means much to Aerians. Was it the Illumen praevolo who survived the assassination attempt?”

“Yes.”

“They do not belong here.”

“Thanks, but it’s my house. My castle. I get to decide that.”

“Did you know, before you offered shelter?”

Kaylin was irritated. “What do you think?”

“I think you were ignorant.”

“Good. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, tell me why you think she doesn’t belong here.”

“She?”

Damn.

“How did you even come to meet her? I suppose I should not be surprised; you are certainly acquainted with the Lady and with Lord Bellusdeo.”