Cast in Honor (Chronicles of Elantra, #11)(32)

“Kaylin—no.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want—”

“I’m not at risk, Moran!” Kaylin was almost surprised at the strength of her emotional response—an emotion she was trying very hard to name.

Her efforts, as they often were when she felt too strongly about something, were apparently wasted. Moran’s eyes shifted back to gray, though. “Kitling,” she said—a word she seldom used with Kaylin, “—it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”

“I’ve never had much,” Kaylin said, in a lower tone. “When I came here—when the Hawklord chose not to—” She swallowed. “I had the clothing on my back and the gear I’d used to scale the Tower. I had my weapons. I didn’t have a coin in my pocket. I didn’t have a home of my own.

“Not everyone loved me. Not everyone liked me. One or two people were offended by my very presence. But most of the Hawks were at least neutral, and some of them were even friendly. Caitlin helped me find a place of my own. I didn’t have the money to pay for it, so the Hawks did.”

“That came out of a very specific budget, I recall.”

“Yes. The mascot budget. Which was embarrassing, but—people helped me. When I needed help, they gave it.”

“I do not need help.”

“No?” Kaylin forced her hands to relax, because she had balled them into fists. “I know you won’t die without it. But you know what? I wouldn’t have died, either. I knew how to survive. This is the first time in my life I’ve been able to offer to help. To pay back to the Hawks what was given to me.”

“Kitling.” Teela’s use of the word was so common it might have been Kaylin’s actual name. She slid an arm around Kaylin’s shoulders. “Your age is showing.” When Kaylin failed to reply, Teela added, “No one helped you out because we wanted to humiliate you—if I recall the early days, you did that quite effectively on your own.”

“Thanks a lot, Teela.”

“No one helped you with the expectation that you would owe us, or be obligated to us, in future. Any kindness done to you in the past is not an obligation you must carry with you until you can—somewhat forcefully, I feel—discharge it.”

“It’s not really that,” Kaylin said, looking at her feet. “It’s just—I never had much. I have things now. The Hawks are the only family I have. Moran, you’re a Hawk.” She lifted her chin. “You’re like a terrifying aunt or older sister. Not Barrani-scary—if you’re angry at me, I know I deserve it.”

Teela cleared her throat.

“But I feel like—I feel—” She stopped. “I know this is not really about me.”

“But?” Moran unexpectedly prompted.

“I feel like somehow, still, after years of being a Hawk, and working hard, and becoming an adult—I feel like I’m not grown-up enough, or not good enough, to be allowed to help you.”

“Ugh,” Moran replied. “It has nothing to do with that. It’s not about you, you’re right. I just don’t want to involve you in my personal affairs.”

“And if Teela had offered?”

“I don’t want to involve me in Teela’s personal affairs.”

Kaylin laughed. “I don’t have much choice.”

“You really don’t,” Teela agreed. “The perils of joining the force as a minor, even as a mascot.”

“We can drop the mascot bit anytime now.”

“Kids,” Moran said. “You can have the rest of that particular discussion in the hall. I’ve heard it enough to know there’s nothing new for an audience in it.” They remained silent, and she looked down at the desk, where the familiar was still expectantly perched. “This is irresponsible,” she continued.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Kaylin told her. “But—come with me when you’re off shift? You can meet Helen. You can see where I live—and where everyone else lives, if they’re okay with that. You can decide then.”

“Fine. Fine, I’ll visit.”

Kaylin wanted to cheer. “Now?”

Moran sighed. “I suppose we might as well get it over with.”

*

“You’re expected at the library,” Teela reminded her quietly as they exited the infirmary.

“I know,” Kaylin replied.

“Kitling—”

“She’ll change her mind. If we don’t get her home, she’ll change her mind. I can talk to the Arkon tomorrow.”

“Your funeral.”

*

“You live in this neighborhood?” Moran asked as they walked toward Kaylin’s home. Trees—well-groomed and towering—covered the street as if they were nature’s fences.

“I know, right? But it’s where Helen was built.”

“I’m still having difficulty with that.”

“With what?”

“With thinking of a building as a person. It’s not that it has a name—buildings frequently do. So do rooms. They don’t generally have people names, though.”

“Or personalities,” Kaylin agreed. “You’ll understand it better when you meet her.”