“Is it because I should have died, and didn’t?” She directed this question to Severn.
“Should doesn’t matter,” Severn replied. He exhaled. “I think the problem is actually Gilbert.”
This wasn’t comforting.
“Gilbert, the water, time and something the Arcanists have been doing. I think you’re caught up in it—but I don’t think it’s your fault.”
“What happens to me if Gilbert goes back and I don’t?”
“Gilbert said you’d be fine here,” Kaylin answered. She tried not to insult Kattea by glaring her partner into silence. “I believe him. He wants you to survive.”
Kattea nodded. “But...Gilbert’s kind of...stupid.”
“I don’t think he’s stupid. He’s just not used to being one of us. Give him time and—” She stopped talking. “Severn, did you hear that?”
Kattea, notably not Severn, said, “It sounded like something cracked. Or shattered.”
Severn was already on his feet. He scooped Kattea off the table. “I think we wait outside.”
Kaylin opened the door. “How well do you swim?” she asked Kattea.
“I don’t know how to swim. We weren’t allowed to go into the Ablayne.”
“Then we’re going to have problems.”
Chapter 19
Kaylin knew that Evanton could be totally submersed in water without drowning. She’d seen it. She had to trust that Grethan could do the same. The rains, which hadn’t chased them up the first flight of stairs, weren’t falling, but that no longer mattered. The second-story hall was underwater.
“Is there any chance that window leads to actual Elantran rooftops?” she asked Severn while watching the water’s currents.
“Possibly.”
Kaylin turned away from the rising river the house had functionally become. She could see the window clearly now. Water roiled on the other side of the closed glass. “I hope not, given what that would mean for the rest of the city.”
Kattea said, “Is Gilbert okay?”
Fair question. Gilbert had not made the list of Kaylin’s immediate worries. “Gilbert,” she said, “is probably the only one of us guaranteed to survive this. Well, Gilbert and Evanton. I’m worried about us, selfish as that sounds.”
Kattea said, in a much smaller voice, “Sounds practical.” But she said the last word as if it were a guilty confession. She looked, for the moment, much younger and frailer; she was afraid. And of course she was afraid: she had working eyes and ears. Water did not work this way unless magic was involved—and in general, if there was a clash between normal people and magic, magic won.
She turned to the door again.
“The water?” her partner asked. He did not set Kattea down.
“Rising, of course.” Kaylin exhaled. “I’m going to leave the room. I’m closing the door. Don’t open it.”
“Kaylin—”
“Don’t open it. Promise me.” She turned back. Kattea’s slender arms were around his neck. “You’re a Hawk,” she whispered.
Memory was a bitch. Always. It cut you at the worst times, for the worst reasons. It returned in a way that made no sense; it followed no logical pattern. Kattea was not Steffi or Jade. She wasn’t Kaylin’s baby sister; she wasn’t Kaylin’s responsibility.
But she was the same age. She was a shadow of the past; a shadow of everything that had come between her and Severn.
Severn nodded.
Kaylin walked out the open door, closing it firmly behind her. She leaned her forehead against it, briefly, and then turned and headed down the stairs.
*
The water was rising as she watched. She hadn’t lied to Kattea; she was certain Gilbert would survive. She wasn’t certain that his ability to interact with the rest of them would, and in any practical sense, that was the only thing that mattered to Kattea.
But Kaylin hadn’t come down the stairs without a plan. The plan, unfortunately, involved contact with the water—but the sooner she managed that, the better.
The currents, while strong, couldn’t knock her off her feet yet. Sliding her right arm between the banister rails, she caught one picket firmly in the bend of her elbow, bracing herself for the unexpected; she had no idea how much time she had before the inches of water became a flood.
She knelt, grimacing, and tried not to think of water damage to her clothing. Stupid thoughts, really, but she didn’t have the time to remove her pants—or boots. She had time to place her left hand firmly in the water.
Self-preservation made her yank her hand clear.
Responsibility made her grit her teeth and once again submerge it.
Kaylin was not Tha’alani. She was not one of the native race of telepaths that lived in Elantra, doing their level best to keep to themselves and away from every other race’s inborn isolation.