“I have been busy for the past several weeks, but I am not unique in that.” He then offered Kaylin and Severn a much shallower and briefer version of the same bow. It was still uncomfortable for Kaylin. Severn, however, returned it.
“I do not mean to encumber you, Lord Kaylin,” he said, voice grave. “But should you require it, I will be here.”
*
You did that on purpose.
If you refer to Lord Andellen’s presence, I assure you that I am not in control of his actions. He elected to visit the High Halls today, and my schedule permitted his absence. Nightshade’s interior voice was a balm when compared to Ynpharion’s. This thought amused the fieflord. I see you did choose to bring An’Teela with you.
She chose to come, and before you say anything else, I am definitely not in control of Teela.
No. No one would assume that you were.
Teela took the lead, but subtly, and her guards shifted formation, allowing her to step forward. Which made sense. If an attack of any kind was going to occur, here was not the place it would happen. She approached the two thrones; to Kaylin’s surprise both were occupied. Etiquette lessons did not involve the niceties of paying court of any kind among the Barrani. If Barrani etiquette formed the base of Imperial norms, the two weren’t identical. Kaylin watched the people who seemed to be loosely milling in proximity to the thrones. She watched the way they stood, the way they conversed, the way they watched the other Lords, and the way they moved—or stood their ground.
She didn’t recognize them. Lord Evarrim, whom she could recognize two city blocks away, was not present.
She wasn’t shocked when the crowd more or less parted for Teela. She was, however, surprised. Teela approached the High Lord with no obvious signal from him. She then bowed, as perfectly—as obsequiously—as Andellen had bowed to her. But she held the bow until he bid her rise, and she rose slowly and gracefully, as if granting him respect that no etiquette could demand.
Kaylin watched the gathered Lords for reaction, because there was some. Most of it, however, did not involve words.
Teela approached the throne, but Kaylin lagged behind. She didn’t hate the High Lord, but his position made her uncomfortable; she was far too aware of all of the skills she lacked, and even if she hadn’t, she was still sworn to serve the Imperial Law with her life. Her accidental acquisition of both a name and a title didn’t change that.
But the Hawks had called her a mascot, and while that was embarrassing, there was affection in it. She couldn’t be that in this court. Yes, she was mortal, and yes, she was an oddity, a curiosity—but affection was no part of these Barrani Lords.
The familiar shifted position on Kaylin’s shoulder, drawing himself to his full height, which wasn’t terribly impressive. Or wouldn’t have been had he not been alive. He nodded at the High Lord. The High Lord raised one dark, perfect brow in the familiar’s direction. Or in Kaylin’s.
“You have come to visit my sister,” he said, turning his attention to the familiar’s perch.
Kaylin did bow, then. If her bow was awkward, that was a function of race. The Barrani would have been far more put out if she’d managed perfect anything. Thinking this, she vowed to practice until she was perfect, because the idea of thumbing her nose at the Barrani while doing nothing wrong that they could point out filled her with momentary glee. And that wasn’t going to get anything done, and perfect would probably come through Diarmat, so she’d pay for it in up-front humiliation first.
Because she was thinking all of this, she actually waited to rise until she was given permission.
“It has been some time since you have visited us,” the High Lord said.
It hadn’t been that long, but Kaylin supposed that riding Dragon-back while everything beneath her that surrounded the High Halls was on fire didn’t count as a visit.
“We find your company refreshing, and would be pleased should you visit us again.” Kaylin sifted through these words and reached the uncertain conclusion that this was, in fact, a dismissal.
Of course it is. He knows why you’re here, and he knows just how wise it is to keep the Consort waiting.
Kaylin thanked Ynpharion. Or thought she thanked him. She had been in gang wars that had caused her less anxiety. She almost backed into Teela, but Teela righted her with a subtle hand in the small of her back, and gave her a nudge in the direction of the Consort’s throne.
The Consort smiled. Of the Barrani, hers were the only green eyes present—or at least the only ones Kaylin could easily see. She did not rise; instead she waited for Kaylin to approach her throne. The metrics of such an approach were fuzzy; the Consort was in theory subordinate to the High Lord.
She is not.
Fine. Kaylin offered the Consort the same deep bow she had offered the High Lord, and waited. The Consort had once left her kneeling for an entire meal—a Barrani meal, which involved a lot of empty chatter and several courses. Kaylin had endured, because she understood that this snub was punishment, and the alternative punishments were more permanent.
The Consort had, eventually, forgiven Kaylin for their extreme difference in opinions, but Kaylin, now aware that she could enrage the Consort, had never felt quite as comfortable in her presence.
“Rise, Lord Kaylin.”
Kaylin rose.
The Consort then left her throne. She didn’t hug Kaylin, as she had done in the past. To the High Lord, she said, “We will walk in my personal garden. I do not wish to be disturbed. If it is necessary, we will speak by the side of the Lake.”
The High Lord inclined his head, and the Consort walked past the thrones until she reached a path that led away from the gathered Court. No one followed except Teela and Severn, not even Teela’s guards. The Consort, however, had no bodyguards of her own. Kaylin frowned. The Consort almost never had personal guards except during actual war.
We are all her guards. Without her, we have no future. Whenever Ynpharion spoke of the Consort, he spoke with pride and reverence. Given that the Consort was the most approachable, the least stiffly hierarchical of the Barrani, Kaylin sometimes found the reverence hard to understand.
9
When they were well away from the eyes of the gathered Court, the Consort turned to Teela. She didn’t hug the Barrani Hawk, but her eyes shaded blue in an expression that spoke of worry-as-concern, and not anger or danger.
“You misunderstand,” Teela said, before the Consort could speak. “Kaylin wished to speak with you, and I am here as kyuthe. She is not accustomed—and will probably never be accustomed—to the High Court and its undercurrents.” She bowed. “I will not entangle you in the minor difficulties I face. They are not the worst that I have historically faced, and doubtless, they will not be the last. If I cannot stand, I will fall, and someone who can will take my place. That has always been our way.
“Kaylin is mortal; she doesn’t understand this viscerally.”