Michelle Sagara - Cast in Peril

Marcus, eyes pretty much red, fur standing up everywhere it was visible, and claws fully extended, was at his desk. His lips were drawn up over his teeth; all he needed was foam or spittle and he’d look entirely rabid. Teela and Tain intercepted Kaylin as she made her way to said desk, her hands still cupping the only thing, besides Bellusdeo and the clothing on their backs, that she’d managed to save.

Marcus, however, didn’t appear to notice what she held in her hands. Given his fury, she was hoping he’d at least recognize her. The good thing about the Barrani—and good was entirely subjective—was that when they were seething in fury, their eyes shifted color. To blue. To midnight-blue, which in this light looked suspiciously like black. She knew this because Teela’s and Tain’s eyes were that color. But they hadn’t suddenly sprouted claws and they weren’t bristling with weapons; they looked decidedly less friendly, that was all.

Of course, she could only think something as inane as this because they weren’t angry at her. Even furious, however, Teela noted that she was carrying something small in her hands. “What is that? A glass dragon?”

Bellusdeo snorted smoke.

Kaylin, however, understood the question. “No,” she said quietly. “It’s alive.”

Teela’s eyes lightened to a more familiar blue; Tain’s, however, didn’t budge. “What is it, and where did you find it at a time like this?”

“It hatched from a very large egg.”

“An egg? The one in your apartment?”

Remembering that Teela had not only seen the egg but by all reports burned her hand when trying to touch it, Kaylin chose a nod as the safest bet. When Teela’s stare wandered into glare territory, she added more words.

“It’s a— I don’t know what it is. Bellusdeo thinks it’s a familiar.”

The silence was like a knife: long and sharp.

Tain turned to Teela. “Please tell me I did not hear what she just said.”

Teela was staring at Kaylin’s hands. “I think,” Teela told her, “we’ll need to hear the longer version of that answer.” She glanced at Marcus’s desk. “It will, unfortunately, have to wait.”

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Kaylin headed to Marcus’s desk. She couldn’t really stand at attention, and the usual at-ease posture wasn’t going to work, either, unless she wanted to drop the sleeping dragon on the ground. Marcus actually looked at her hands. He didn’t, however, ask her what she was carrying. More important, he didn’t tell her to get rid of it. He left his chair and she saw deep scores in both the armrests. She winced. Marcus had to replace his desk on a relatively frequent basis. He seldom had to replace his chair.

He walked around the desk toward Kaylin, who instantly lifted her chin to expose her throat. His mood was bad enough that he even reached for it, although he lowered his hands before he touched skin. “Did you destroy your apartment?” he asked in a rumbling growl of a voice.

“No, sir.”

“Then why are you exposing your throat?”

Because you’re in the worst mood I think I’ve ever seen you in? She thought it massively unfair that she was the one who’d almost been killed and everyone was more than happy to vent their rage and fury at that fact on her. Kaylin, still aware that no one had yet denied her the promotion she desperately wanted, kept that one on the right side of her mouth. He was in a bad enough mood that he didn’t wait for an answer, which was good, because she was too tired to come up with one. She was also still very cold—except for her hands.

As if she could hear the thought from across the office, Caitlin appeared with a blanket. She wrapped it around Kaylin’s shoulders and knotted two corners just under her chin. She also paused to look at the small, translucent creature in Kaylin’s hands. “He is adorable, dear,” she said.

Bellusdeo, silent and unassailed by Marcus in a fury, snorted.

“I’ll get you something warm to drink. The Hawklord should be down— Ah, there he is.”

* * *

The entire office was like a living catalog of racial foul moods. The Hawklord’s eyes were as dark as Teela’s, and his wings were high, the arches poised as if to strike. “Private,” he said in a much friendlier voice than the Sergeant had used. “You’re alive.”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at her hands. “If the item you are carrying is not essential, I suggest you set it down somewhere safe.”

She swallowed. “It’s essential.”

“I see. Perhaps, at a later point in time, you can tell me where, in the regulations, carrying glass is considered essential for performance of your duties.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What happened?”

“We went home to change for the etiquette lessons. While we were there—” She took a deep breath, held it, and continued. “While we were there, something was thrown or shot into the apartment through the window.”

“The window was open?”

“No, sir. The shutters were closed, but they’re really warped, so they’re only tied shut. Sometimes they pop loose—”

He lifted a hand. “Continue.”

“I think an Arcane bomb landed in the room.”

His brows rose. “Impossible.”

She swallowed. “Sir—”

Clint cleared his throat; she’d forgotten he was even there. “It’s not impossible, sir.”

“You have a damage report?”

“We have Hawks working with a portable mirror now, but I did see the building.”

“And?”

“It’s sustained severe structural damage. Very little remains of the walls, floor, or ceiling in the room in which the suspected bomb exploded.”

“And you, Private, were somehow not in the room when it did explode?”

“I was.”

He looked over her head to Bellusdeo, who was standing and looking vaguely regal. Although Dragons were not Barrani, and therefore lacked some of their innate grace and cold beauty, they certainly weren’t mortal. They could, on the other hand, hide it better when they chose to do so. “We were both in the room.”

“You are unharmed?”

“Yes.”

“Did you shield yourself?”

Bellusdeo’s brow rose a fraction. “I did not.”

“Can you explain how you are both alive?”

“Not definitively, but I have some suspicion.”

“And that?”

“The necessary item in Private Neya’s hands.”

Every set of eyes in the office that were close enough to Kaylin now turned their attention to what she was carrying. The Hawklord’s eyes were already losing the sapphire edge of their blue. Tain and Marcus still looked enraged, however.

“Private, explain.”

“When we had the problem with the magical surges a few weeks ago, the midwives had some problems with some of the deliveries.”

“Yes. I read the reports.” It was hard to tell from his tone of voice whether or not he was being sarcastic.

“This came from one of those problems.” She lifted her hands, extending her arms to enable her commander to get a closer look. The translucent dragon lifted its wings and then raised its delicate head, elongating its neck in the process.

Kaylin hurriedly drew her arms back in, because she wasn’t entirely certain what the little creature would do—and biting the Hawklord’s nose appeared to be a distinct possibility.

“I…see.” To Bellusdeo he said, “How did this small dragon preserve your lives?”

“He is not a Dragon,” she replied as she approached Kaylin’s side. “But I believe he is a familiar.”

* * *

The Hawklord and the Sergeant exchanged a glance. Kaylin was willing to bet a large amount of money—and given her finances, large was relative—that the Sergeant, at least, had never heard the term.