“Destroys anyone else.” Evanton’s frown lines deepened. “Moran ispraevolo.She was accepted—provisionally—aspraevolo. She was adopted into arguably the most powerful and significant flight in the Southern Reach. Do you honestly think that adoption would have proceeded if the dar Carafel weren’t certain?” His frown was familiar, and oddly comforting in spite of the fact that it was turned on her.
Did she? No. No, of course not.
“They may not have let herkeepit. In theory, there are guardians who protect the regalia. In practice, it is historically unwise to have men of ambition and power as guardians to objects—or kingdoms—they might otherwise desire to possess. In general, the guardians become the kings—usually when their charges die.”
“Thepraevolodidn’t rule, though.”
“No, perhaps not. But thepraevolo’s power is considered close to divine. It is theheartof flight, to the Aerians. Moran is the mortal expression of it.”
“And she can’t fly.”
Evanton said a quiet nothing. A quiet, significant nothing.
“She can’t fly,” Kaylin repeated. “Have you taken a closer look at her wing?”
“She ispraevolo.”
“Evanton—” Kaylin stopped. Froze. “You think—you think the assassination attempts started because she’spraevoloand she couldn’t fly. You think—”
“It is not my job to think,” was his testy reply. “It’s yours. In theory, you get paid for it.”
“I’m off-duty,” Kaylin pointed out.
“There’s no reason you can’t think on your own time.”
No wonder Grethan was invisible. But Evanton’s dour questions had kicked off thoughts that wouldn’t stop once they’d gained traction. “If the power of thepraevolois the heart of flight—if thepraevolowas meant to give flight to the flightless, her inability to fly proves she’s a fraud.”
He was silent.
“The dar Carafel—the ones doing the adopting—knew that she could wear the bracelet. You’re right. They’d’ve had to know. They know she’s not a fraud, and they know it would be hard to convince the rest of the people—you know, the ones who do theactualwork—”
“Classism, Kaylin.”
“I don’t care. It would be hard to convince them that she was a fraud when they didn’t believe it themselves. People like Lillias will give up their lives to protect her because of what she means as a symbol.” She slowed down. “People like Clint or the rest of the Hawks. If they believed it, they would.
“But if she couldn’t fly—in spite of injuries that would cripple any other Aerian—she becomes a fraud. And if she’s considered a fraud, her death means nothing. No, probably more than nothing: it’s like she’s been lying, and she’s been caught out, and she’s facing justice. Ugh. You know, she’s suffered because of those wings. She’s lost a lot. I can’t think of a thing she’s truly gained. And no one else is going to believe that, unless they know her well enough that she’s willing to talk about her life.”
“No.”
“But the thing I don’t understand iswhy? The power of thepraevolois random. It’s not predictable. It skips generations. Killing her means that in the future anotherpraevolomight be born—with a better pedigree—but that future might be generations down the road.”
“We circle back, then.”
“It would only make sense if they had some way of passing that power on.” Her frown deepened. “Or if theybelievedthey had a way of passing that power on. If they could choose.” She looked at Evanton. “Have you examined Moran’s bracelet at all?”
Evanton smiled then. “Only in a cursory fashion. I do not deem it wise—or safe—to handle.”
“But the mortal carried it.”
“Yes. The mortal who was, as you have mentioned, imbued somehow with Shadow.”
“Do you think it’s possible that it’s thebraceletthat contains the power?”
“And that it’s thepraevolowho can house it?” Evanton opened his cookie tin and handed it to Kaylin, almost as if the question deserved a smidgen of reward. “I think it is possible, yes. I think, however, it is unlikely.”
Kaylin deflated.
“But I think it very likely that men who are accustomed to power and its use, to rank and its use, to elevated birth and its rules, might well come to view it that way.”