Teela lifted a hand. “Before you continue, I am leaving. I have an investigation to begin before we head to the High Halls tomorrow.”
“There’s nowe,” Kaylin began.
“Attempt to make sense of what Terrano sees when his eyes are in that state. I’ll tell you if I discover anything of import.”
“Where are you going?”
“The fiefs, of course.” Teela turned and left the room, walking quickly. She paused, and then said, “Lord Andellen. I would appreciate your input.”
Andellen, standing on the other side of the arch that led to his lord, stiffened.
Helen turned to Nightshade’s sole liege. “It’s you or Kaylin,” she told him. “She would prefer your input because you were actually involved in all stages of the attack as a defender. Kaylin arrived only after the fact.”
Kaylin, still looking away from Terrano’s face, turned to Andellen. She nodded. “Annarion and Nightshade might not have been on the best of terms, but Annarion will let nothing harm his brother while Nightshade remains within Helen’s perimeters. If Teela thinks she needs your input, she does.”
Andellen hesitated for one long beat before nodding. To Kaylin.
“I swear, Teela’s about to lose all her hair.”
“Hair isn’t the word we usually use.”
“Helen doesn’t like it when I curse.” As Terrano spoke, he turned back to Nightshade.
Kaylin glanced at Annarion and he flinched, looking away.
“What?”
Annarion said nothing.
Terrano did curse, then. “You know your mark is bleeding, right? Nightshade’s Erenne mark?”
“According to everyone I’ve spoken to today, yes.”
“An Erenne mark isn’t like the other Marks. Most of Annarion’s anger at his brother is because of the mark you bear. He doesn’t care about the family that discarded him. He doesn’t care that most of that line is lost to history, even if he’s certain Nightshade was responsible for that. It’s the damn Erenne mark. What it means to you—mostly nothing, anymore—and what it means to our people are different.”
“It’s like a consort mark, right?”
Terrano winced. “Yes, sort of.”
“No,” Annarion snapped. “It’s like a slave mark. A precious slave. A valued slave.” His hands were fists. Of the cohort, Annarion was usually mild and quiet; he had control of his emotions and his words. But not when it came to his brother.
“He’s never tried to use it against me.”
Terrano placed a gentle hand on Annarion’s shoulder. “I know. I know, but the fact that the mark is bleeding might be helpful. Kaylin doesn’t want your brother to die—and the mark is onherface.”
“Two war bands,” Annarion said, voice low. “Any Barrani who sees that mark in the wake of those war bands is going to target her.”
“Everyone’s seen it. Look—I’m not trying to defend your brother. I’m just interested in saving his life. Even if you never speak to him again, we need him in the fiefs.”
Annarion swallowed. “...sorry.” He’d dropped into Elantran as he looked at Kaylin. “Terrano thinks you might be able to break through because you have that... tattoo. He says it’s bleeding because it’s connected—and no, he doesn’t understand why. None of us do. It’s an ancient tradition—and it’s never used now. That’s part of the reason it was so shocking.”
“So... I’d want to talk to someone ancient enough to tell me what the mark actually does? I mean, Nightshade’s thugs treat me with respect because I have it.”
“Because if you get angry with them, Nightshade might be furious. They will suffer consequences for disrespecting you.” Helen sounded certain.
“But it doesn’t mean what they think it means. It doesn’t mean anything, now.”
Helen said nothing.