“Yes, obviously. You just want it to be a big misunderstanding that will resolve itself with mortal-style hugs and kisses.”
This was true. Kaylin flushed. “I know that Nightshade spent a lot of years searching for a way to find—and free—his brother. I don’t understand him. He seems very Barrani in other ways, except for the outcaste part. But if he cares about anything outside of himself, it’s his family.”
“No,” Mandoran replied, picking up a fork as if it weighed more than his entire arm. “It’s hisbrother. He considered the rest of his family responsible for Annarion’s loss. He did not, and would not, forgive.”
“That’s why they’re fighting.”
“More or less. Annarion is not outcaste. He is considered Barrani, inasmuch as that’s possible for any of us anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
It was Bellusdeo who answered, which surprised Mandoran, judging from his expression as he turned to stare at the Dragon. “Dragons, Barrani, almost any person of any race who is considered to be a power, hate to admit that they’ve made mistakes. They will avoid referring to their mistakes—because of course, anyone who lives and breathes makes them—with a determination that might seem stupid, when seen from the outside.
“Annarion is therefore considered Barrani—and only Barrani—in every legal way by his Caste Court. The Barrani Caste Court is somewhat elastic; it is political. Barrani outcaste lords have been repatriated, historically, with a change of leadership.”
“Not often,” Mandoran said, frowning.
“More often than Dragon outcastes.”
Mandoran shrugged. Obviously he believed her statement was both true and irrelevant.
“Annarion is not, as you are well aware, what the rest of the Barrani are. He has to struggle to retain even his shape. He’s willing to make that effort. The polite fiction is that he has returned. Because he has—and I’m sure Mandoran will correct me if I’m mistaken—he is a legitimate member of his family line. He cannot hold or take it back if he is not a Lord of the High Court. He cannot be Lord of the High Court—”
“Without taking the Test of Name.”
Mandoran did not argue or correct Bellusdeo.
“He’s not ready for that,” Kaylin said.
“You’re not going to tell him that,” Mandoran said. “First of all, he probably wouldn’t hear it, given the argument he’s having now. Second of all, it’s not going to matter. He thinks that his brother abandoned his duty to the family and the line, surrendering it to distant cousins because he made himself outcaste. He believes that theonlyresponsible thing he can do is establish himself as a Lord of the High Court and retake what is, in theory, his.
“You can imagine the cousin in question, who is a Lord of the High Court and has been for centuries—that timing coincidentally around the same period in which Nightshade was made outcaste—is not thrilled. Although Annarion is in line, he has no legitimate claim if he can’t pass the test. If he takes the test and passes it, hedoeshave a claim.
“Claims are theoretical. The law would give him the ancestral home, lands and titleifhe survives, but they would be slow about the grant. It’s quite possible—quite probable—that he would not survive becoming a Lord; there would almost certainly be assassination attempts.”
“I’m still stuck on the taking-the-test-and-surviving-it part.”
“So is Lord Nightshade. I believe that’s the core of his argument. If his brother has returned, he is not what he was. But Annarion’s argument is the same. Nightshade is not what he was, either.”
“And that’s caused all the shouting?”
“No, dear,” Helen said. “Annarion is angry with his older brother. He feels betrayed.”
“But Nightshade did so much of what he did—”
“To find his brother, yes. Lord Nightshade feels that sacrificing the line—or his claim to it—was an acceptable cost if it meant not abandoning the only member of his family he truly cared for. Annarion, sadly, does not see this the same way.”
Mandoran winced.
“What?” Kaylin asked him.
“Helen’s understating things.”
“You can hear them.” Of course he could.
“Yes. Helen can’t provide privacy for those who are Namebound.” Mandoran’s face was tight with pain. “Annarion is reminding his brother that duty—his duty—should never have been forsaken for something as trivial as brotherly affection.”
Even Kaylin winced. She’d never had brothers or sisters. Her mother had died. She’d never had a father. But she’d yearned for family. She still did. Severn had once said that she built family wherever she went—and maybe that was even true. But she wouldn’t want any of her made family to suffer for her sake. That wasn’t supposed to be the point of family.