Cast in Sorrow

water in the fountain, and swim all the way back to wherever Teela was.

She wasn’t certain—couldn’t be certain—that the Consort was lying to Avonelle. That was the worst of it. Everything she’d said in the heart of the green—every single word—could have been a lie, a way of leaving the green. And she’d do it, too, not because she valued Teela’s life so little, but because she was the conduit to life for the rest of her people. No one would think what she’d done was wrong; no one but Kaylin.

Kaylin.

I don’t want to talk to you right now, she told Nightshade.

Then perhaps it would be best if you were not shouting. I am not the only one who will hear your thoughts and your grief. I will not use them against you; can you be so certain that no others will?

She couldn’t, and he knew it.

You must learn to hide this, Kaylin.

I am hiding it. It’s on the inside of me.

You have learned how to hide thought, Kaylin; you have learned how to shield what must be shielded. You are mortal; you are exhausted. Even exhausted, you must not forget. You found the Lady.

Yes.

Understand that the High Court is, once again, in your debt.

Kaylin said nothing.

Yes. You understand what that means. You are not wrong. Given a choice between her own life and the life of any other member of our race, she is duty bound—honor bound—to save herself. If you think this does not grieve her, you fail to understand her.

It’s easy for you to say. You want what she wants.

Ah. No, you misunderstand the Lady. But yes, Kaylin. What Iberrienne wanted—before he lost so much of himself—I want. I did not understand what had happened to Iberrienne; I understood only that he had seen his brother. The brother he thought lost. He has spent centuries attempting to do just that—only that—in secret. I knew.

Why did you turn him in?

Silence. It didn’t last. Do you not understand?

No. I don’t ask questions to make conversation.

It was the only thing I could offer that would bring you here.

You knew. That I would be harmoniste.

No. It was, from the beginning, a gamble. You are Chosen. You do not understand your power; no more do the Barrani. But I have seen what you have done with it. You stumble. You fail to plan. But you free the trapped. You tell stories that I cannot hear, but cannot doubt.

Kaylin stumbled; Severn caught her, sliding an arm around her waist. She was too tired and too dispirited to care when her stomach growled, but she did watch—a little vindictively—as a large shadow crossed the green, catching Avonelle’s attention. The dragon had followed the eagles at a discreet distance—but something the size the dragon now was would never, ever be stealthy.

Avonelle’s eyes did not take on the gold of surprise, which was a pity. They didn’t really shift at all; the color of fear—which the Barrani never acknowledged—was pretty much the color of their more socially acceptable rage.

She did, on the other hand, feel Nightshade’s surprise. Kaylin, what is this?

Small dragon. Well, not so small dragon.

He didn’t appreciate her humor. This made her feel a little bit better.

What happened to it?

I needed him to carry Teela. Which guttered the little bit better entirely.

Can you control him? The question was sharp, insistent.

She glanced up at the sky and the underside of translucent belly. At this distance, he looked almost like himself. If he squawked instead of roaring, it would almost be a comfort. He predictably roared.

No.

You allowed him to...grow...without being certain of your control?

Since the answer was pretty self-evident, she didn’t bother with one. Instead, she said, Which one of the lost was yours? Because she wanted him to leave her alone, and she was pretty certain the question would shut him down.

It did.

* * *

Kaylin had only seen a small portion of the Warden’s perch; her visit to Lord Barian’s ancestral home had been cut short by the presence—and demands—of the dreams of Alsanis. She was exhausted by the time she reached the Warden’s halls; she was dragging her feet in a kind of stupor that meant morning would start sometime around late afternoon. Given that it was pretty much full-on daylight, it might start later than that.

Severn walked by her side, and to Kaylin’s surprise, the Consort joined them; her brother walked by her side and the Barrani High Court, disheveled, bruised, and otherwise less perfect than normal walked both in front and behind. Avonelle didn’t live in the Warden’s perch; it was a small mercy on a day when mercy was in short supply. Kaylin took it.

The eagles stayed with Barian; he led the High Court into his halls. Kaylin, by this point, was tired enough that taking a seat with her back to the nearest wall seemed like a better option than tripping over her own feet. Severn glanced at her. A minute later, maybe less, he stepped in front of her and crouched. “Climb on.”

She hesitated for less than ten seconds. Yes, being a Lord of the High Court made demands on dignity. No, at the moment, she didn’t care. She let herself be piggybacked down the tall, wide, light-filled halls, and surprised herself by drifting off.

* * *

Lord Kaylin. Lord Kaylin—wake.

The voice was unfamiliar for one long moment; Kaylin snapped out of sleep, and the shattered edge of dreams, when she recognized it. It was Ynpharion’s. She recognized the background blend of bitter humiliation and rage. Both were muted. His concern—his fear—was not.

She rolled out of bed, which was her first mistake; the beds in the perch were obviously meant for people at least six feet in height who nonetheless always landed on their feet. They were much higher off the ground than the rickety bed she’d once owned.

She landed on her knees, shook herself, and gained her feet as smoothly as she could.

Ynpharion?

She felt his impatience at her obvious ignorance, but he answered. Yes.

What’s happened? Are we under attack? What time is it?

It is almost midnight, he replied, with just a hint of condescension. Both the Lord of the West March and the Warden gave orders that you were not to be disturbed. I believe they have changed their minds. We are wakeful; the Lady herself has been roused, and she is...concerned.

Great. Kaylin made sure she had her daggers, although they didn’t provide much comfort; too many Barrani, too many swords, and too much shadow magic. She longed for Elani street with a passion usually reserved for hating it.

Severn was at her door before she’d opened it; he was armed with the two blades of his weapon chain. She stared at them.

Ynpharion, is Iberrienne still alive?

The question confused him, which Kaylin took as a yes. “What’s happened?” she asked as she exited a room that did not—at first glance—appear to have a door ward.

“Your dragon is breathing on select buildings in the West March.”

Kaylin wanted to turn back to her room and crawl under the bed. “Any particular buildings?”

“You’re not going to like the answer.” He began to walk down the hall; she followed at a jog, to make up for