Neither Tiamaris nor Severn seemed particularly relieved; they waited as if waiting for the entire cohort were an everyday activity. Tiamaris took on the duties of a host, and did so with grace and wit; Diarmat would have been proud of him. Severn lingered as Tiamaris and Tara led the cohort to less martial looking rooms, and he fell in beside Kaylin as she followed the line.
She stopped walking, allowing the distance between them and the rest of their companions to grow. Turning to Severn, she hugged him. She didn’t have words for him, because important words were often the difficult ones, but then again, he didn’t require them.
“Sorry,” she said, when she pulled away. “I didn’t intend to leave Elantra.”
“I know.”
“Someone should probably let the Emperor know we’re safe.”
“I believe Bellusdeo has asked for permission to do just that. What are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“I’m going to eat something, and then we’re heading to Helen, where we will hole up and discuss our various options. I think the Consort is going to be angry at me forever.” This last was said glumly, Kaylin’s anger having died somewhere on the long march.
She was surprised to discover that her anger was not the only anger in the room; Severn was angry. None of it showed. No one who was not connected to him the way she now was would have noticed it at all.
“Things will probably be ugly. I think we should skip the meal and head straight to Helen before the High Halls is aware of your presence here.”
“They’re already aware,” she replied, thinking of Ynpharion.
“The Consort professed that she did not want any harm to come to either you or Bellusdeo.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“You do?”
Did she? She knew that she wanted to, and that that desire muddied the waters of objectivity. But Ynpharion had believed it. She nodded almost reluctantly. It was easier not to be upset with the Consort’s anger if she believed that the Consort was somehow her enemy. But she held Ynpharion’s True Name. He could keep things from her, but she was almost certain he couldn’t lie.
But maybe that was wrong. The Consort also held his name, and she was not afraid, as Kaylin was, of using it. Ynpharion had known, when he had offered the Consort his name, that that was what awaited him. He hadn’t offered it to Kaylin.
“I don’t believe she ever intended to harm or cage either Bellusdeo or me.”
“Then I doubt she’ll inform the gathered war band that the Dragon has returned. But the Barrani have eyes everywhere.”
Kaylin nodded. “We’re going to have to sort that out before the Emperor attempts to reduce the High Halls to ash.”
“He’ll probably have help.”
Kaylin winced. “Things have been bad?”
“Bad? That would be good, about now.” He ran his hands through his hair, and she noted the circles beneath his eyes.
“I really am sorry. I wouldn’t have gone without you if I’d had any warning.” She certainly wouldn’t have taken Bellusdeo.
“I know,” he said again. “It was fine until—” He shook his head.
“Until?”
“We lost you. You’ve managed, against all odds, to survive, no matter where you land. But when you cut out, when I couldn’t hear you and couldn’t reach you at all...” Severn, so much better with words, even when he used far fewer of them, abandoned the attempt and again ran a hand through his hair. “I understand why Annarion, Mandoran and Teela became so upset.”
“Is that why you went to Helen?”
He nodded. “I know as much about True Names as you do. I thought Mandoran and Annarion might know more. As it happened, Teela was there to answer questions.”
“What was the general consensus?”
“...Not particularly good. Mandoran, however, said it was too sudden, too immediate; there was no hint of struggle. He would have expected the voices to die out singly, one at a time, otherwise. Mandoran assumed you’d found the rest of the cohort.”
Kaylin could imagine just how much fun that conversation had been. “Sorry,” she said again.
“Your own death has never truly terrified you.”
“It has. But—not the same way. I mean, I won’t be around after it happens.” She shrugged, uncomfortable now. She understood Severn’s fear—it was the fear that governed and shadowed her own life; the fear that had done so since the day her mother had failed to wake in the fiefs in the barely remembered past. She had nothing to say to that child, that other Kaylin, changed by the fiefs and by Severn and by deaths that she still couldn’t think about without flinching; she had nothing to say to the girl who had run into Barren and become something darker, something far more dangerous.
And she found that she had nothing to say to Severn, either. The difference was that she wanted to. She wanted to say anything that would ease those shadows, visible across the whole of his expression.
Someone in the distance roared. In Dragon.
Kaylin reddened. “I think Bellusdeo wants us to hurry up.”
*
A dress had been procured—somehow—for the Dragon. It was not a particularly fancy dress, but it was real, and it wasn’t armor. Her hair had been plaited in a single braid that pulled hair off her face and made her look more severe. Or maybe it was just her expression. Her eyes were orange, but close enough to red to make conversation seem life-threatening.
The cohort were, unsurprisingly, blue-eyed. But the blue varied in shades, and two of the cohort were almost calm. Tara had led the cohort into a large room with various small tables situated across a carpet that absorbed all incidental noise. Terrano was seated between Sedarias and Allaron, but seemed to have given up on sulking; he was talking, in low tones, with the leader of the cohort.
Tiamaris stood at the center of the room, arms folded, eyes orange. “We have informed the Imperial Court that you have made a safe—if unconventional—return to Elantra. The unconventional will of course be a matter of grave concern. Lord Bellusdeo has claimed that the decision to take the path you took was hers.”
“That’s not—”
“Sedarias has likewise claimed the decision as her own. Do you have anything to add?”
“Yes. You’re doing a damn good imitation of Diarmat.”
Bellusdeo was surprised enough to laugh, which lessened the deadly color of her Dragon eyes. Tiamaris grimaced, which, given his demeanor, was unexpected.
“The Dragon Court is in an uproar,” he said. “The Swords have been—I have been expressly commanded to inform you—working nonstop since your abrupt departure.”
“By who?”
“Who else can give commands that I am obliged to obey?”
Ugh.
“Bellusdeo has been granted conditional approval to remain with you—as long as you are situated within your own home. The Emperor trusts Helen.”
Kaylin would have resented this, but given the circumstances, felt it unwise. She also happened to agree, and was being cowardly; she knew the Emperor would be blamed if Bellusdeo resented what might amount to house arrest, and the Emperor was in the Imperial Palace. Kaylin would be living with Bellusdeo under the same roof.