Cast in Sorrow

glared. Neither, however, spoke to stop him, and because they didn’t, the Barrani Lords let him pass.

Iberrienne smiled. It looked so wrong on a Barrani face, Kaylin found it inexplicably painful to watch; it was far more personal than his unplanned nudity had been. “Calarnenne!”

“Iberrienne,” Nightshade replied, smiling in turn. His smile was different, but to Kaylin, no less jarring. It walked the edge between pity and compassion—neither of which she had ever associated with the fieflord. He held out both of his hands, and Iberrienne placed his over them.

“Where is Eddorian?”

“He is not yet here.”

Iberrienne’s eyes rounded. “If he is absent, it will ruin us. My Lord was so proud that he had been chosen.” He rose. “But—why are we here? It is not the hour of the green. Calarnenne—why are you wearing the Teller’s crown? Where is Annarion?”

“Annarion is preparing for his first recitation, as Eddorian must be.”

Kaylin looked at Teela as Iberrienne spoke. Her eyes were a shade that Kaylin couldn’t remember seeing before—not blue, not precisely, although there was a lot of blue in it. She thought it amethyst, a deep purple.

Do not ask her, Lirienne said.

I’ve never seen that color before—I mean, not in Barrani eyes. What does it mean?

Grief, Kaylin. A deep, abiding, encompassing grief. It is not a color that you are taught, because it is seen so very, very seldom. Grief generally makes my kin angry—and the color of our anger reveals nothing that we do not wish to be seen. An’Teela...

Eddorian was one of the children, the lost children, wasn’t he?

You already know the answer to that question. I will not insult your perception.

“I am the Teller,” Nightshade told Iberrienne. “But come, you are not properly clothed, and when we gather for the recitation, you will be far more of an embarrassment to your father than a late Eddorian.”

Iberrienne looked down at his tablecloth; as he had both hands in Nightshade’s, it had slipped from his shoulders. “I don’t—I don’t understand. Why am I wearing nothing?”

“That is no doubt a story for a long, slow evening; it will keep boredom at bay. Come, Iberrienne.” He looked to Barian. Of course he did.

Lord Barian, however, looked to—of all people—Kaylin. As if he knew, or as if he suspected. “He is as you see him,” she replied, as softly as she could.

“Will you grant us the hospitality of the West March, Warden?” Nightshade asked. It sounded very formal.

The Warden, Lord Barian, nodded.

To Kaylin, Nightshade said, Find the Consort, Kaylin. Find her and summon me if necessary.

What will you do with Iberrienne?

I will see him clothed.

Why is he—why is he like this?

Nightshade didn’t answer. Instead, with ineffable gentleness, he led Iberrienne away.

* * *

Silence reigned in the large clearing.

It was Kaylin who broke it. “Did the eagles remain with the Consort?”

Her question caused a ripple to pass through the Barrani; whatever disturbance Iberrienne had caused—and he had, there was no doubting it—passed.

“To the best of our knowledge, yes. The dreams of Alsanis were not seen by anyone else during the battle,” Lirienne said.

It was to Barian she looked. “They remained with her. We took our leave—at her request. Two of Lord Lirienne’s lieges remained with her, on the far side of her doors; she wished no company.” Before Kaylin could ask, he said, “They are dead.”

“And her chambers—”

“Her chambers are empty.”

“Were they—”

“They were half-destroyed, yes. The eagles, when we arrived, were gone.”

Barian glanced at Lord Lirienne, and then gave a brief shake of the head. “Preparations have been made, Lord of the West March. If you will countenance it, we will repair to the heart of the green.”

She heard the No that he didn’t speak, it was so visceral. “Lord Avonelle has agreed?”

Barian’s lips tightened; it was brief. “She has.”

Kaylin started to speak.

Do not interfere, Kaylin. It was Nightshade.

You’re not even here.

No. The attack on the Lord’s hall is unprecedented. Inasmuch as Barrani are safe anywhere, they have always been safe here; not even the three flights could breach the defenses of the green. In such a situation, there is no safer place.

Given the green and the Hallionne and the lost children, I’d consider that dubious safety.

Yes. You would. But if the Consort can be found, it will be by the will of the heart of the green. The politics of the green and its Wardens require caution—but caution takes time. Lirienne will accept the debt.

What debt? She’s the Lady—she’s the only one who can wake the newborns!

Yes. But he is from the East, not the Vale. Do not interfere.

This isn’t the time for politics!

He laughed. He was genuinely amused. Politics among my kin end when life does. Go. You have touched the nightmares of Alsanis. It is possible that the heart of the green will answer Lord Lirienne—but he will be unable to go to where she is. You, however, might.

Chapter 16

Lord Avonelle was wearing armor. Gone was the very fine, very flattering dress she had worn with such cold grace at dinner. At a dinner that felt like it had happened last week. Kaylin looked up to see the two moons; she had no idea how much time had passed. It was still dark, but the edge of the visible horizon implied it wouldn’t remain that way.

“Lord of the West March.”

He inclined his head. “Lord Avonelle.”

“Accept my apologies; the Warden informed me of the urgency of the situation with all speed. We were ill- prepared for an emergency of this nature. We have bespoken the runes, and we wait.”

“I ask your leave to enter the heart of the green.”

“The green will judge.”

Kaylin didn’t like the sound of that reply, but it was said without inflection. Clearly, even in emergencies, form was more important than function.

Avonelle stood aside. “Tenebriel will serve as guide.”

Barian, however, stepped forward. He bowed to his mother, Lord Avonelle; her eyes were very blue. “I will serve as guide, Lord Avonelle.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue.

“I am Warden.” He turned to the Lord of the West March, his back taking the brunt of Lord Avonelle’s silent anger. “The green will judge. Within the green’s heart, the Lords of the High Court—and the Lords of the Vale—