Michelle Sagara - Cast in Peril

She kept this to herself as she rose unsteadily to her feet, wondering, as she often did, if Nightshade deliberately made the portal passage as nauseating as possible to give himself the edge in any negotiations or conversations.

“I hardly think it required,” was his amused—but chilly—reply. He was, of course, standing beneath the chandeliers. But his eyes were a shade of blue at odds with the situation, and the color immediately put Kaylin on guard.

“You are cautious,” he replied, “as is your wont.” He offered her an arm. If she maintained physical contact with Nightshade, the Castle didn’t throw up new doors or halls and didn’t distort the ones she’d seen before. She reached for the bend of his elbow and stopped as the small dragon reared up on its unimpressive legs, extending his head, his small jaws snapping at air. It was, sadly, the air directly between Kaylin and the Lord of the Castle.

“What is this?” he asked softly, his brows folding in almost open surprise—for a Barrani.

“My newest roommate,” she replied tersely. She pulled her hand back, and the small dragon settled—slowly—around the back of her neck, looping his tail around the front.

“It lives with you?”

She had not come to the Castle to talk about the small dragon. “Yes.”

“I…see.” He withdrew the offered arm. “Are you aware of what it is?”

“A small, winged lizard,” she replied. The small dragon hissed, but did so very quietly. She knew Nightshade would have some interest in the small creature, and at the moment, she didn’t care. A cold certainty had settled into the center of her chest, constricting breath.

His expression chilled. “You are, in the parlance of mortal Elantra, in a mood.”

“I’m angry, yes.”

“Have I done something to merit your anger?” As he spoke, he walked; if she wished to continue the conversation, she had no choice but to follow. “Have you made preparations for our journey to the West March?”

It wasn’t the question she’d expected. “I’ve been given a leave of absence from the Halls of Law, yes. I will be traveling with Teela.” The halls of the Castle looked almost familiar, and they led to the room in which Nightshade habitually received guests. Or at least guests who wore the tabard of the Hawk on the other side of the bridge.

“That is not entirely what I meant.” He led her to the long couch in front of the flat, perfect table that graced the room’s center. There, silvered trays held very tastefully arranged bread, nuts, and flowers.

“You know that the High Court is traveling there.”

“Indeed.”

“How exactly are you going to survive?”

“Is my survival of concern to you?” He smiled.

She ignored the question and the smile; the latter was harder. “You’re Outcaste, and even if the Barrani don’t view Outcastes the way the Dragons do, they won’t be able to ignore your existence if you’re constantly in their presence.”

“No,” he agreed. “Be that as it may, I have reasons to believe in this case they will hold enmity and decree in abeyance.”

“Reasons you’d like to share?”

“At this point, Private Neya, you would not understand them; I believe they will become clear with time. My status, however, given the debt owed you by the High Lord, should not materially affect your own.”

She lifted a hand to her cheek, which deepened his smile and lightened the color of his eyes. “Yes.” The smile faded. “It is not, however, concern for my welfare that brought you to my Castle.”

“No. You already know what I want to ask.”

His eyes, when they met hers, were dark, his expression smooth and cool as winter stone. “Ask,” he said softly. When her silence extended for minutes beyond awkward, he smiled. It was thin. “I would not have all effort in this conversation be mine. You made a decision, Kaylin. You have come to my fief, my Castle, to ask a simple question. Ask. I will not lie.”

She exhaled. “There’s been a series of disappearances in Tiamaris.”

His expression didn’t shift. At all. “Continue.”

“One of the people who disappeared in the fief wasn’t a native. He crossed the bridge on a dare.”

At that, Nightshade frowned. “That is unfortunate.”

“Is it more unfortunate than the other disappearances?”

“Of course. That mortal was a citizen of the Empire over which a Dragon claims ownership.”

“And the others were citizens of a fief over which a different Dragon claims ownership.”

“A Dragon who is in the unheard-of position of also owing loyalty to the Eternal Emperor. I do not envy him the loss of an Imperial citizen within the boundaries of his fief; he will almost certainly be called upon to explain it.”

“An explanation has presented itself.”

She felt him stiffen, although nothing about his expression or posture changed at all.

“And that?”

“A Barrani Lord of some power appears to have been involved.”

“Ah. You call him a Lord?”

“The Barrani who have power aren’t generally content to let it remain unrecognized.”

His smile was slender, sharp, and laced with an odd approval. “True. Why do you believe a Barrani Lord to be involved?”

“Because you do,” she replied, the words as tight and sharp as his smile.

“Perhaps that is merely the arrogance of my kind.” He rose. “If events are of significance, of consequence, we assume our own to have a hand in them.”

“So do we. Your own.” She could find no warmth with which to smile. “I saw him.”

Once again he stilled. “You…saw him? The Barrani you accuse?”

“I saw him,” she repeated, “in the border zone.”

* * *

After a significant pause, Nightshade spoke. “You are so certain, Kaylin, that the individual you saw in the border zone was Barrani?”

In response, she folded her arms. “I am.”

“The border areas are often…amorphous. What is seen—”

“I don’t want to play this game.”

“Ah.” A brief smile. “Which game, then, would you indulge in, in its stead?”

“You’re aware that I’m currently resident in the Imperial Palace?”

The smile vanished. “I was not.”

“You are aware that the only home I’ve ever had I could truly call my own was destroyed yesterday?”

Silence. It was not an awkward silence—but it was. Nightshade resumed his seat, the table dividing them. “I was not.” He glanced at the small dragon. “How was it destroyed?”

“An Arcane bomb.” Her throat was inexplicably tight; it was hard to force words out. The small dragon rubbed the underside of her jaw with the top of his head.

He asked nothing, watching her.

“The magical signature left in the wake of the bomb is not currently in the records of the Imperial Order.”

He nodded, as if the information were irrelevant.

“But that same magical signature can be found in the fief of Tiamaris, near the border, where I saw the Barrani we believe to be involved in the disappearances.”

“And your question?”

“People have been disappearing from the fief of Tiamaris for the past week—that we’re aware of. How long have people gone missing from your streets?”

“If I say they have not?”

“I’ll redefine the word ‘missing.’” She pushed herself to her feet, feeling too confined by the stillness enforced by sitting. “Was the unnamed Barrani Lord buying people from your fief?”

“It is not, in the fief of Nightshade, an illegal activity. Imperial Laws have no jurisdiction here. Nor do they in any other fief; Lord Tiamaris may style himself after Imperial rule, but it is choice, not dictate.”

“Is Imperial gold currently in what passes for your coffers?”