Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(146)

Then you are subject to its—

Her.

...her whim. His eyes narrowed, and he turned away from the door. This was an abominable idea. I have no idea why I am here. I almost cannot believe the centuries I spent attempting—in some small way—to retrieve the brother I could not believe was dead. He headed down the stairs.

“Helen, please.”

Helen exhaled. It was a sound that was vaguely reminiscent of Dragon.

“Nightshade!” As he continued to walk away, she said, “Calarnenne.” She spoke without force, as if it was merely a mortal name. He stopped.

Annarion had come down the stairs; he’d reached the doors. Helen’s ability to shield his presence extended to the fence line, but he was understandably reluctant to test this. Kaylin glanced at his expression. It was nowhere near as shuttered as Nightshade’s, and yes, there was anger in it.

Anger, she thought, and bewilderment.

“They need to talk,” she told Helen. She spoke very quietly, but without hope that either of the two men would fail to hear her.

“Then perhaps it would be best if they used the Twilight Room. I do not like this, Kaylin. I understand that you accept certain attitudes as inevitable cultural behavior. But Lord Nightshade is unlike the other Barrani you have invited as guests.”

“I am not more of a danger than Lord Teela,” Nightshade said, voice sharp, eyes narrow.

Helen’s eyes rounded. They were still obsidian, but the expression itself was more human.

“Lord Teela,” Helen replied, in a voice that was about as soft as her eyes, “does not trouble herself to hide her thoughts when she enters Kaylin’s home.”

“My thoughts,” Nightshade said, “are not your concern.”

“No. But Kaylin is.” Before Kaylin could move, Helen reached up and gently touched the mark Nightshade had placed on Kaylin’s cheek.

Kaylin was surprised. It no longer hurt, and she didn’t resent it nearly as much as Annarion, Mandoran and Helen did. “No, you don’t,” Helen said.

At least teach your Helen that she is not to reveal the thoughts you are wise enough not to put into words.

“But none of our anger is as deep as Teela’s.” Helen shook herself, and as she did, she resumed the most familiar of her forms. “Annarion? The Twilight Room?”

Annarion nodded grimly.

“Will you require refreshments?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

“Should I inform Mandoran that the meeting will be private? I believe he is...concerned.”

Nightshade’s anger turned on edge—and gave way to a bitter amusement.

“Yes,” Kaylin answered, before Annarion could. “Tell Mandoran exactly that. It’s not like he’s not going to know if Annarion needs backup.”

Helen led the way.

Her voice, however, remained behind, and when the Barrani and her own Avatar had cleared both the foyer and the visible upper hall, she said, “He feels that he owns you.”

“He can’t own me. For one, it’s illegal. For two, he’s wrong. I’m not responsible for how he views me. I can’t change it. I’m responsible for how I view me, and I’m telling you it doesn’t matter.”

“He does not have friends, Kaylin. He has lieges and servants. He does not understand family as even Annarion understands it. What you want will never be of value to him in the way that what he wants is. I cannot read him,” she added. “But he is powerful, and that attitude combined with power is not...safe.”

“No, probably not. But—he did spend centuries trying to find a way to reach, or free, his brother. And I actually really like his brother.” She exhaled. “I don’t know how he feels about his brother now, but...he’s capable of more than you fear. I know he is.”

“Perhaps. But you are not his brother. I do not like this,” she added, belaboring the obvious. “But I have grown fond of Annarion, and Annarion is his brother.”

*

The discussion wasn’t over by dinner. It wasn’t over by the time Kaylin went to bed. Nor, apparently, was it over when Kaylin woke the next morning.

It wasn’t over when she’d finished breakfast, either, and Mandoran, her only company at the table, was distracted by it because he couldn’t hear most of it.

“Helen can,” Kaylin reassured him. “Annarion’s not in any danger.”

“Not physically, no.” He exhaled and changed the subject in a particularly Mandoran way. “Moran’s not going to be happy that you’re walking around the house like that.”

“I didn’t break a leg,” Kaylin replied. “There is nothing—besides a small burn—wrong with me.”

“That’s not what she thought.”

“Believe that I know what she thought.” Kaylin grimaced. “But I’m well enough.” She stood.

“You’re going to see Kattea?”

“Yes. I don’t suppose Gilbert showed up while I was sleeping?”

Mandoran shook his head. “The Tha’alani castelord did, though.”

“Is she still here?”

“No. Where are you going?”

“We promised that we would do one thing for her if she would help us,” Kaylin replied. “And I am going to do that one thing if it kills me.”