In the West March.
Fine. Your brother would have flown to the West March from the High damn Halls the minute—the second—he had word that she was alive. I’m not naive. I’m not stupid.
“You are not naive, and you are not stupid,” he agreed—out loud. “But your experience with the Barrani is too narrow. We said—all three of us—that our family and our relationship was unusual for the Barrani. It was, and is.”
“Nightshade spent centuries trying to find some way to reach his brother.”
“Yes. And in the end, he succeeded. He found you. He is also outcaste and fieflord. Your experience with Barrani involves very, very few, and it is unwise to make assumptions about an entire race based on such a selective sample. And yes. Were my sister to return to me alive—in any form—I would have been here.
“But your cohort are not my sisters or brothers. They are therefore potential rivals, potential enemies. They are certainly contentious. As they are not mine, I do not feel responsible for them, or for their survival. And Lord Kaylin? Very, very few of their families want them back; Calarnenne and Iberrienne are the exceptions. Honor at a remove of centuries is politically safe, and even wise. The dead can be created, recreated, their histories revised and transformed to suit the political needs of the moment. The living have never been so convenient.”
“Did any of the surviving family visit?” Eddorian’s brother had come, but not to visit; he had been one of the Barrani who had worked most closely with Terrano. And whatever had been done to him, or had been done to him by his self, had all but eaten his mind.
He was silent for one long beat. Almost reluctantly, he said, “Yes.”
*
The West March was, in theory, in the middle of forested land. It was not, however, a small village by mortal standards. The forest path, which was not obvious, was nonetheless easily traveled. Kaylin knew the moment they had crossed a boundary invisible to her eyes, because she could see the shadows of the giant eagles the Barrani called the Dreams of Alsanis. Terrano didn’t fear them; he remained on the carriage roof as they approached the bridge that separated the West March from the rest of the world. Lirienne did leave the carriage, then; the bridge was not fixed, and in fact, did not exist until he—or one of his kin—invoked it.
Kaylin would have disembarked as well, but she didn’t trust Bellusdeo to remain in the cabin if she wasn’t with her. For obvious reasons, she wanted the Dragon to be as invisible as possible while in the West March. Bellusdeo was not Teela; she didn’t immediately fly into a cold rage if she thought someone was condescending enough to worry about her.
Lirienne returned to the carriage. “Can Terrano be persuaded to come down off the roof?”
By which he meant, could Kaylin persuade Terrano to get down. She grimaced, stuck her head out the nearest window, and asked. When Terrano apparently failed to hear her, she shouted, instead. Terrano, whining, did return to the inside of the carriage, although he sulked for the rest of the drive, which was thankfully short.
Kaylin was reminded that Lirienne was the Lord of the West March; a dozen armed and armored men stood at a kind of elegant attention as the carriage pulled up to the front of his dwelling. He asked that they remain in the carriage while he spoke—briefly—with his seneschal. Probably about the Dragon.
Definitely about the Dragon, among other things, Lirienne said. I am certain you realize just how unusual a visitor she is. Or perhaps you do not, given your cohort and their place in your life.
*
“The reason he was reluctant,” Bellusdeo said, when they had been shown to their rooms by servants so frostily silent they appeared to made of ice, “was your reaction.”
“There was nothing wrong with my reaction.”
“He said, clearly, that most Barrani consider their direct siblings their most dangerous enemies. It’s just possible that the visitor had no love of the sibling; the visitor might have been attempting to discern just how much of a threat their sibling posed.”
Kaylin’s arms were folded.
“I loved my sisters,” the gold Dragon continued. “But I do not doubt that, had we all survived, we would have come into conflict. Serious conflict.” It was the first time Bellusdeo had ever said that.
“You kind of did all survive,” Kaylin pointed out.
“They are part of me, yes. They are part of my name. But they have no voice that I can hear. They cannot keep me company. They cannot fight armies at my side. They cannot argue with me, disagree, or suggest things I had not yet considered. I understand what happened; I understand why. I understand that were it not for their existence, I would not be alive; I even understand that I am more powerful and far more stable than I would otherwise be.
“But I miss them. I miss them especially in Elantra, where I have no role, no duty, no responsibility. And I nonetheless understand that we were Dragons. Sooner or later, one of us would have risen to lead the flight, and those who could not, or did not, fall into formation might not survive it.”
Kaylin stared at her. “I don’t understand Immortals.”
“No,” was the fond reply. “It’s probably why we like you so much. Even the Lord of the West March seems fond of you.”
“That’s because I saved his life.”
“And you assume that I’m fond of you because you saved mine?” Brows rose. “Kaylin...no Immortal likes to feel obligated to anyone else. It’s a type of weakness. It implies that we are not strong enough, not powerful enough, to stand on our own. We’re not fond of you because of that, we’re fond of you in spite of it.
“I do, however, have a slightly different concern.”
“Terrano?”
Bellusdeo smiled. “I forget, sometimes, that you’re observant.”
“Hawk.” She hesitated, and then said, “When a crime has been committed. Terrano, of the eleven trapped in Alsanis, was the only one who could freely travel between the Hallionne and the outside world. But...he kind of reminds you of Mandoran.”
Bellusdeo nodded.
“He reminds me of Mandoran, as well. If Annarion put his mind to it, I believe he could be political; he could make plans, and he would be focused enough, deliberate enough, to carry them out.”
“But not Mandoran.”
Kaylin nodded. “Not Mandoran. Mandoran does have the rest of the cohort sitting on him from a distance—but I think he’d need that cohort to keep him on the straight and narrow. The Barrani version of straight and narrow, at any rate.”
“And you think Terrano couldn’t have plotted what occurred the last time you were here.”
“Not on his own, no.”
“Sedarias?”