She managed not to snap at Caitlin, so gratitude won out—but it was awfully close.
Why are you even talking to me?Kaylin demanded, as she stomped toward the duty roster.
A loud growl diverted her. Right. Sanabalis was waiting in the West Room.
I have been asked to inform you that there might be some troublein the near future.
What kind of trouble?
I am uncertain. The Lady asked that I reach out; she did not command it.Had she, Ynpharion would have had no choice. If Kaylin reluctantly knew his name—and she did—he had offered it—willingly—to the Consort. It was the Consort he served; he was grateful to serve her. Whatever Kaylin had done to save his life paled in comparison; he accepted it because it had allowed him to find the lord he truly wished to serve.
Ynpharion didn’t correct her; it was true. But it was also true that he avoided all contact with Kaylin where possible these days. If the Consort thought there might be difficulty in the future, it was serious.
But her job was serious as well, and she was late to meet Sanabalis. The Arkon. The new Arkon. She had taken a distinct dislike to the changing of names. People had had perfectlygoodnames before, and now it was all up in the air, and Kaylin made mistakes constantly.
She’d gotten a bit better about it, but she imagined it’d take months until the new names became the normal ones.
The Arkon was sitting in a large chair at the otherwise empty conference table. His eyes, when he looked toward his tardy student, were orange. To her surprise, there was no candle in front of him. Candles had been the implement of teaching torture that he had previously employed.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were coming today.”
“I believe you were informed.”
“I’ve been a bit busy, and your lessons aren’t an emergency.”
The Arkon exhaled a small stream of smoke. “We have heard from Lannagaros; he believes you aided Lord Bellusdeo, with the help of Mrs. Erickson.”
Kaylin nodded.
“Lord Bellusdeo’s situation is nowextremelyunusual, but she does seem to be far less prone to tantrums.”
“She isn’t prone to tantrums at all.” Kaylin pulled out a seat and took it, with very little grace.
“She wouldn’t throw them in your presence—you might not survive. If you disbelieve me, you must speak with Lord Emmerian.Afterwe have finished this class.”
“There’s no candle.”
“No. Unfortunately, this is not that kind of class. I have surrendered some of my authority as your teacher—as Arkon, I have other duties that occupy too much of my time. It is a wonder to me that Lannagaros did not torch most of the collection in the Imperial Library centuries ago. And before you defend him, I understand that to Lannagaros, they were the remnants of his desire for the scholarship offered by the lost Academia.”
“I thought he took most of that with him?”
“You are incorrect. He felt that it would teach me needed patience to be forced to look after what remains of the collection. From time to time, information from his various relics and artifacts has proven essential—but not in a reliable or dependable way.”
Sanabalis—ugh, the Arkon—had never struck Kaylin as particularly impatient. Had the Dragon who replaced Lannagaros as Arkon been Tiamaris, she might have agreed or at least found it less implausible.
“Your interference—yourwelcomeinterference—in Lord Bellusdeo’s difficulties made clear to us that your magic, as Chosen, is not strictly the talent-based magic of Imperial mages.”
“Or Arcanists.”
“You’re a Hawk. That goes without saying.”
“Teela was an Arcanist.”
The Arkon’s eyes reddened.
Kaylin murmured apologies. Hope snickered.