“No dice. You’re living in my home.”
“And so are Mandoran and Annarion.” Teela tilted her head back against the seat, exposing the line of her perfect throat. She even closed her eyes. “Candallar has not been outcaste for as long as Nightshade. I am uncertain whether or not he is working in concert with members of the High Court in the faint hope of being somehow reinstated; I assume that is the case—but I do not know. Nightshade has never made that attempt. And given the circumstances, I think it far more likely that Nightshade would be granted his title; he would, of course, have to fight for his lands and his ancestral home.”
“They’re not really his anymore.”
“Oh?”
“Well, they’ve kind of been home to other people for a lot of centuries. People have probably been born there.”
“And died there. I believe the death count outnumbers the birth count, but it is often the case that births are secluded, private, and frequently hidden affairs. There is too much risk, when the families play for power. It matters little. Were he somehow to receive the High Lord’s approval, were he to become the returning son, those lands would in theory return to him.”
“And the people against this are powerful enough that it’s not a possibility?”
“Anything is possible where there is will and drive, but the cost might be prohibitive. Annarion understands this,” she added softly. “I think, in the end, it is not a price you would be willing to pay. From your perspective, his claim predates the Empire. In your world, were you the long lost scion of Kings, and the throne still extant, you would have to slaughter untold thousands to return to it—you would not be able to take it back without an army to clear the way.
“And you would not have the stomach for that.”
“Would you?”
“Yes. Were it of import to me, yes.” She opened one eye and added, “If you don’t like the answer, don’t ask the question when the answer is obvious. While I have nothing particular against lying, I see no reason to do so merely as a sop to your sentiments.” She closed the eye and continued. “Do you think Annarion is not aware of the cost of his return? He is the line—or was; his claim is almost impeccable.”
“Almost?”
“He was lost to the ceremony in the green. Kitling, I know you like them both. I am fond of them myself. But when he loses his temper—or when he’s distracted—he loses his form. He loses cohesion. Helen has done work with him; she has worked with both of what she calls ‘the boys.’ Annarion is easily upset, easily offended; we all were, when we were his age. Except Sedarias. Sedarias, however, is perfectly capable of nursing a grudge while waiting for an adequate moment to act on it.”
“So...she’s like you.”
Teela did smile then; it was feline. “She is somewhat like me, yes. Or rather, it was of Sedarias that I thought in my long isolation.” The smile dimmed. “I want them back,” she said, voice low, eyes closed. “I want them by my side. But I understand the danger, Kaylin. The Consort doesn’t—but she will. She will fully understand it when she visits. You confuse trust and affection; you believe that people you both like and trust will, by the nature of your attachment, share your views.
“It is a mistake. The cohort will not harm her, or so I believe; only Terrano was willing to do so. I trust the Consort, I hold her in high regard, but I also believe it likely that she will agree with those who now work to prevent their entry into the High Court. She will not do so for the same reasons—no one who has power or claim has any desire to shed it, after all—but the reasons won’t change the facts.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Kaylin replied.
“Of course you aren’t.”
“No, I mean it. You can’t hear what she hears, day in and day out. I could hardly bear it for the hour that I could. She hears the wails and the cries of the damned—it’s a literal version of hell. I think she has hope, somewhere, that if the cohort are so very changed, they might be able to do what no one has dared to do.”
“Don’t say it.”
“Fine.” But she could think it, and did. They might be able to free the damned. “She might be willing to take the risk.”
“And if they fail? Do you understand what happens if they fail?”
“They’re trapped.”
Teela’s laugh was bitter and joyless, a stark contrast to the Consort’s. “No. If it were that alone, it would signify little, except to friends and possibly family. Imagine that they are one with the Shadow. Imagine that they are twined with it. They don’t have to stay solid. They don’t have to remain in the bowels of the cavern that jails that Shadow. They can leave, as they left before. They can do irreparable damage to the High Halls, and to Elantra. It would be worse, in many ways, than the attack of the ancestors upon the Halls, and that was very costly for the Hawks.”
Teela knew how to shut her up. Kaylin never wanted a police action that had such a high body account again. Ever.
“Were you Consort, would you take that risk?”
Kaylin considered it. She didn’t like any of the answers she could come up with.
“The Consort’s anger with you over your last disagreement—which was very, very short-lived for one of my kin—was due to the fact that you were willing to take a risk that she could not, and would never have, countenanced. She could not prevent you. She could prevent this.”
“But it worked out.”
“Yes, and I am certain that that is the only reason her anger has abated. I believe that this is a greater risk to my people. In the case of the Devourer, the risk was universal, shared, absolute.”
“You think I shouldn’t have invited her?”
“I think you would have, regardless. I would just like evidence that you had thought about all of the consequences before you opened your mouth.”
“Oh.”
*
By the time the carriage had reached the Halls of Law, Kaylin had had more than enough time to think; thinking had devolved into fretting, which had sunk further into self-recrimination. Severn was so silent, he might not have been there at all. But he’d been that way in the Court as well. The Consort seldom addressed him directly, as if he were a simple bodyguard or even servant, neither of which Kaylin had the money or the status to acquire.
Teela dropped them off at the front gates. The Barrani Hawks were still not on the active roster, and she was not therefore expected to be in at a given time. Her clothing was meant for the High Halls, and while she could perform her duties dressed like a queen, the rest of the Hawks would find it uncomfortable. Either that, or they’d be gawking.
“I didn’t think,” Kaylin said, almost before her foot hit actual street. She glanced up at the Halls of Law, and at the door guards.
“You’re worried about Bellusdeo,” Severn observed.
“I’m not worried about her. The Consort would never try to harm her. I’m worried about what’s going to be said to me if I don’t somehow clear the visit first.”