“That wasn’t sleep. He was unconscious.”
“What’s the difference?” Before Kaylin could answer, Annarion frowned. “Mandoran thinks you’re trying to distractme. He says it doesn’t matter whether or not my brother needs sleep—you need it. You look awful.”
She felt awful, truth be told. As if the days of terrible tension and anxiety she’d been bracing herself against had suddenly folded, and she was left pushing back against nothing.
Annarion slid an arm around her shoulder. She tensed—she always did—but accepted it and let him take on some of her weight. They made it halfway up the stairs before he took on all her weight; he lifted her off her feet. His gaze skirted the Erenne mark and shied away.
“Can you forgive him now?” Kaylin asked, her voice soft because she was so exhausted.
Annarion opened his mouth, closed it, and continued up the stairs. Hope had adjusted his position. The hatchling had not, and almost fell, because Hope had pushed him off the shoulder he’d occupied. “What is that?” Annarion asked with obvious relief. “Another familiar?”
Hope squawked. It was the unhappy, disgusted squawk, but at least it wasn’t aimed at her.
“I don’t know. Right now, it’s not my problem. It’s not biting me, it’s not trying to burn me to ash, and it’s not hostile. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“Serralyn asks if you’d like her to speak with the librarians.”
“As long as I don’t hear what they have to say until tomorrow, sure. She can use me as an excuse to get into the library.”
Annarion chuckled. The sound faded. Kaylin had closed her eyes. “I never hated him,” he said. “I was so angry, and so disappointed.”
“You know he probably did this—the mark, I mean—because of you, right?”
Annarion’s arms tensed. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say, but she really didn’t have enough energy to make sure only the right things left her mouth.
Kaylin made sure she met, and held, Annarion’s gaze. “He wanted to rescue you.”
“Did he ever say that?”
“No—but why would he? He was the fieflord. I was a fiefling who’d managed to escape. I knew nothing about him besides that. Why would I care about his brother? I hadn’t met you yet.” She hesitated. “I met him once when he was younger. There was a big upheaval—a time storm, I think someone called it? The fiefs are unstable when the Towers aren’t properly captained.
“He was different, then. I couldn’t imagine that he would become the Nightshade I knew.”
“Neither could I.”
“But he recognized the Erenne mark. And he knew he hadn’t put it there—not yet. It was one of the first things he did when I met him for the first time.” She swallowed. “I was Chosen. I had the Marks of the Chosen. No one knows for certain what power comes with those Marks. Maybe he thought if he kept me close by, I could help you, somehow.
“And he wasn’t wrong. He never forced me to do anything. He never hurt me, beat me, or commanded me. And his thugs treat me with respect.”
“The High Court doesn’t.”
“They wouldn’t even if I didn’t have the Erenne mark.”
“They might. You have Hope. You have the Marks of the Chosen.”
“The Erenne mark makes me seem lesser to them. Your brother is the threat, not me. On the other hand, it probably makes him seem likemoreof a threat. He has the Chosen in his pocket. If he removed the Erenne mark—or if someone else did—it would make me more of a threat, not less of one.” She grimaced. “But because it’s still on my face, people know he’s alive.
“Annarion, I made my peace with it. I don’t even notice it’s there on most days.”
“Except when it’s bleeding?”
“Except then, yes. But if it weren’t for this mark, I’m almost certain your brother would have died. We wouldn’t have been able to reach him or heal him. Please—find another reason to fight with him. Hate him because he treated the citizens of his fief like less than garbage, for instance.”
Annarion fell silent but carried Kaylin to her room. He didn’t stay to make certain she got ready for bed—but Helen was determined. It wasn’t a fight Kaylin wanted to have. She did need sleep.
“You should be resting,” Annarion said as he entered his brother’s room. The door wasn’t locked, but even if it had been, Helen would have opened it for Annarion. He would not have asked. He understood sentient buildings and their hospitality; Hallionne Alsanis had been both prison and home for the majority of his life.
Calarnenne was not resting. He appeared to be talking with Helen’s Avatar. She was, to Annarion’s surprise, aiding his brother in bandaging a wound on his right side.