thought was arresting and disturbing, and she tried, mostly successfully, to push it aside. “I don’t think the lost children want Teela dead. I think they want her to—finally—join them. It’s like they think she was left behind, or held back.”
“And Evarrim is aware of this.”
“Evarrim is a—”
Severn cleared his throat, and Kaylin took the hint. “The whole High Court is probably aware of it by now. Terrano wasn’t exactly subtle. I’d guess most, if not all, of the High Court is worried.”
“They don’t trust Teela.”
Kaylin rose. “They’re Barrani; they don’t trust anyone.” The small dragon sneezed in her ear. “I think,” she added, glaring at the small dragon, “we’re moving again.”
The forests of the West March, or its environs, weren’t exactly light-filled to begin with. The trees were too tall. But when evening began to set in, Kaylin missed the light. Moonlight was barely visible from where she was standing—and she’d chosen the spot because from here she could see at least one of the moons.
She stayed in range of Teela. She kept Severn more or less in line of sight. But what she wanted—what she missed about a city that was in theory vastly more crowded and consistently noisy—was a bit of privacy. There were no doors in the forest, and no small, enclosed space she could call her own.
But she didn’t have that in Elantra anymore, either. The attempt to assassinate Bellusdeo had not only destroyed her flat, it had destroyed a large chunk of the building itself.
The small dragon snapped at something large and chitinous that was crawling up her arm; the damn bug didn’t even crunch. “Do
The small dragon snapped its jaws shut and whiffled.
“Kitling.”
She looked up from a furious attempt to kill a buzzing, flying bloodsucker. The tone of Teela’s voice made insect blood loss a triviality. She walked away from the only obvious—to mortal vision—moonlight, making a beeline for Teela.
Teela was not the only Barrani to draw weapon; the entire clearing had fallen silent.
Kaylin listened. She heard nothing.
Even the insects were quiet for one long, drawn breath. Severn unwound his weapon chain—and to her surprise, that made almost no noise, either.
The Consort lifted her chin. “From the north,” she said. The Barrani turned.
In the forest, night was spreading across the ground.
The Lord of the West March spoke three short phrases that Kaylin did not understand. Light flared in the forest, spreading across flattened undergrowth and fallen branches until it hit a wall of darkness it couldn’t penetrate.
The Consort was right: the wall of darkness existed only to the north of the group; to the west, east, and south the summoned light faded naturally. As Kaylin reached Teela’s side, the small dragon dug claws into her shoulders, throwing his wings wide. He almost dislodged the precariously embedded stick that kept most of her hair out of her eyes. Reaching up, she fixed this. She couldn’t afford to be half-blind. She also tried to remove him; in response he batted her hands away with his head.
And a hiss.
His wings, however, were rigidly spread. They were, Kaylin suddenly realized, covering half her face—and her left eye. She stopped trying to remove him, and instead turned to look at the moving, black wall through his wing.
“We have Ferals,” she said.
The Lord of the West March was less prone to be annoyed by her inaccurate description. “Where?”
“In the wall.” When he failed to answer, she added, “I see the darkness moving in as a wall. The light doesn’t breech it.”
“Lord Evarrim? Lady?”
“I see the...wall...that Lord Kaylin describes. I cannot see anything moving in it.”
“Lord Severn?”
Severn held a blade in each hand; he came to stand beside Kaylin, and then took one step forward. He didn’t set the chain spinning. “I see the shadow. I don’t see what it contains.”
Neither could Kaylin—with her right eye. But the translucent wing that covered the left eye clearly showed forest Ferals. She frowned. “There are three,” she said. She spoke softly, squinting. “I can’t be certain, but I think there are two Barrani behind the Ferals.”
“Do you recognize them?”
This was not a reasonable question to ask of a mortal, even a human Hawk. “No. Neither are Iberrienne, if that’s what you’re asking. I think one is female. They’re not obviously armed,” she added, aware that this didn’t mean they were harmless.
“An’Teela?”
For a long moment, Teela stared into the moving wall; the Barrani shifted formation, drawing into a tighter front line that faced north. “I see the shadow,” she finally said. “Lord Evarrim, can you bring it down?”
Evarrim replied tersely, “I have been making that attempt.” His tone made clear that it wasn’t wise to emphasize his failure.
The darkness wasn’t a flood; it was slow, but inexorable, and as it moved, it swallowed the edge of the light, changing the shape of safety in the clearing. The Ferals seemed content to move beneath its cover; they didn’t snarl, growl, or speak; they didn’t charge. Kaylin glanced at Ynpharion. He was instantly aware of her, but for the first time since the Lord of the West March had led this wilderness trek, his loathing and fury were directed at something other than Kaylin.
She didn’t ask him what he could see. At the moment, she knew. He saw the moving darkness, and he wanted to obliterate anything that was hidden within its folds. She readjusted the small dragon. Living masks were awkward.
“Is the darkness transforming the trees?” The Lord of the West March asked.
Kaylin frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Does the light continue?”
That was what was wrong. “Yes. It does. It’s why I can see them at all.”
She heard a shout and turned; the other Barrani held their ground. “Incoming from the west.”
The Lord of the West March glanced once at his sister. “Call them back,” he told her softly.
The Consort’s eyes widened, their color darkening. She looked as if she wanted to argue but in the end, she did as he asked. Her commands, Kaylin understood. “Lord Kaylin, stand beside me. Under no circumstances are you to now run—or fight—on your own.” She lifted her chin, frowning. “Where is Lord Calarnenne?”
Kaylin froze. Nightshade was not standing within the boundaries of the Lord of the West March’s light. When he’d chosen to leave, she didn’t know—but she knew where he now was, because she could see him clearly. He had crossed the threshold of moving darkness, to the west of the farthest Feral, and he was now making a silent approach, using the cover of standing trees, toward one of the two Barrani who walked behind those Ferals.
As if, she thought, he had seen them. Maybe he had. Maybe the tiara that graced his brow at the whim of the heart of the green allowed it. She was only grateful that wasn’t the case with Teela.
He failed to answer. Inasmuch as he could, he had shut her out entirely. And she knew what it would cost to force him to listen, or worse, obey.
