“No taverns were burned down in the process,” Tain said.
“Not completely,” Teela added. She glanced at Bellusdeo.
“You were in the infirmary,” Bellusdeo pointed out.
“You didn’t even take Maggaron.”
“Maggaron is sulking because I went to the Aerie and confronted the outcaste without him. I am sulky enough for a small army, and if we’re being honest, he was making me feel guilty.”
“He wouldn’t—”
“Not on purpose, no. If he weretrying, I wouldn’t care.”
“So you called Teela and Tain?”
“As it happens, Teela happened to be in roughly the same spot when things were over. She suggested it.”
Teela shrugged. “I did. She looked tense.”
Going out drinking with Teela and Tain was like running an obstacle course—with angry people on either side of it.
“You look terrible,” Teela added.
“Thanks, Teela. I was sleeping.”
Bellusdeo had the grace to flush. She didn’t apologize, but Kaylin wasn’t expecting one. She fully understood why the Dragon was unhappy, and was fairly certain she would have done the same thing. Mostly because she often had—she just didn’t have the innate volume of Dragons.
Looking up the stairs, Bellusdeo straightened her shoulders. “Now,” she said, “it’s time to face guilt, grovel and apologize.” She climbed up three steps, stopped and turned to look back at Kaylin. “I’m sorry.”
Kaylin wondered if she were dreaming.
* * *
Kaylin expected Moran to return to the Aerie the next day, and was surprised when Moran came home to Helen. She also came home to Helen the following day, and the day after, lingering. The mirror room was...busy. Moran largely ignored it, which caused Helen to purse her lips with mild—but obvious—disapproval.
Mandoran joined them for dinner on the third day, looking pale, exhausted and bored. Annarion joined them as well, looking concerned. He had come, in the past few days, to some state of compromise with his brother. Kaylin didn’t ask what it was. If it were dangerous to Annarion, Helen was certain to tell her, because Annarion certainly wouldn’t.
“What happened?” Kaylin asked Mandoran.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Could it be any better than getting stuck in a wall?”
“The wall wasnotmy fault.”
“And this was?”
“No. This was worse than the wall. I’m once again confined to the house.”
Kaylin glanced at Helen, who nodded. She was worried about him. To Kaylin’s surprise, Moran was worried, as well. She wondered if that was why Moran had stayed. The Caste Court—which apparently still existed—was vastly more deferential in its communications with Moran than it had ever been. But deferential or not, thepraevolodidn’t want to talk to them.
He said, “I blame you.”
“Me? This wasmyfault?”
“What the hell were you doing with your hands, anyway?”
“I wastryingto—”