“She told me years ago that if she had to hear thisone more time,” Kaylin said, mimicking almost exactly Teela’s inflection, “she would make certain she never had to hear it again. With a vengeance.”
“Ah. But I’m certain she did hear it again.”
“Less often. She thought I spent too much time whining about what was wrong, and not enough time figuring out how to change what could be changed. For me,” she added, “I could change nothing. Or that’s what I thought, back then. I think it most of the time now. But...notallof the time.”
“And Tiamaris?”
“I didn’t change that, though. Tara and Tiamaris did—or will.”
“Without you, Tiamaris would not be fieflord and Tara would not be Tara.”
“That wasn’t why I did it. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t go in thinking: Hey, how about I changeonefief by confronting its Tower? Oh, and drag Tiamaris along just because.”
“No. But change is change, and you cannot entirely predict what the fruit of your actions—for good or ill—will be. You did not intend to change Tiamaris. But you went to the fief’s Tower. You went with knowledge of your past, of yourself, of the things that you had done and hated—and of the things youwantedof yourself. You’d already begun to make those changes.”
Kaylin’s snort was less forceful. “I first left the fiefs to assassinate the Hawklord.” She seldom said this out loud. But Helen already knew, even if she had never heard it directly.
“I do,” Helen said, her voice softer. “But Kaylin, you knew you would never succeed. You didn’t come to assassinate him; you came to die.” Helen’s Avatar appeared in her room as Kaylin turned toward the sound of her voice. There was, alongside the knowledge, an acceptance that Kaylin struggled to maintain.
Her home hugged her gently.
“What you were when you arrived in Elantra is not what you are now. The choices that you’ve made since then were different choices. They were not choices you could have made in the fiefs. You wanted to be a different person—but the person you are grows out of the person you were.
“You remember all of the bad things. You remember thewhyof them. You could have chosen to be far more judgmental in your work as a Hawk.”
“I am.” Muffled voice.
“Not to my eye,” Helen replied. “And no, I don’t see you at work. But I know what your day was like. I could wish you might take Margot less personally, but knocking over her sandwich board on a daily basis didn’t prevent you from saving her life.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Helen chuckled. “You have two visitors,” she added.
“Two?”
“Sorry, three, but one is Severn.”
The parlor—not the dining room—was where Kaylin’s breakfast was served. The room had grown, but it now hosted more than four people. The Arkon was present, and with him, Lord Emmerian; Severn was, as Helen had said, here. Kaylin lifted brows in his direction.
“I was told that while you are seconded to the Imperial Palace, I am also seconded to the palace.”
The Arkon said, “By whom?” His voice was chilly. His eyes were orange.
“The Lord of Hawks. Lord Grammayre.”
“I see.”
“The Hawks work in pairs,” Kaylin pointed out.
“The Arkon,” the Arkon said, “does not.”
“We have a mirror, if you want to speak with someone who can rescind those orders,” Kaylin told him. “But neither Severn nor I can ignore them.”
Teela walked into the parlor. She was not happy. “We will be heading into the Halls of Law, and I will happily relay your discontent.” Given the color of her eyes, Teela’s discontent was likely to be first on the discussion list.
Kaylin decided that rank mattered for reasons of pay. But Teela and Kaylin now shared a rank, and there were things that Teela could say that Kaylin couldn’t, if she wanted tokeepher new rank.
On the other hand, Kaylin couldn’t imagine the Arkon wantedmorepeople as companions. He didn’t seem happy to be stuck with Severn and probably accepted Kaylin under sufferance. Kaylin had the book. The Arkon did not.