“There is nothing, at the moment, to take. I can sense it but cannot see it in any of the planes you might approach.”
Kaylin nodded. Her hand no longer felt frozen and numb. “He lost too much blood.”
“He is with Sedarias at the moment, and I believe he is hoping you will somehow rescue him. Sedarias is most unhappy.”
She would be. Annarion was wrecked, and Terrano had almost died.
“Yes,” Helen said, although it wasn’t necessary. “There are dangers in loving and being loved. But the cohort has learned to define themselves by the things they love, not the things they hate. In some cases, love leads to fear.” Kaylin was pretty sure Helen was speaking about Sedarias.
“Not only Sedarias, but her fear is the sharpest, the harshest—and the most likely to lead to unfortunate consequences. Mortals are not taught that love itself is weakness. Barrani, who must live longer lives, are. They learn this at the same time they learn any of their abilities. Perhaps, because the cohort was young when they first met, the desire to love and be loved had not yet been fully extinguished.” Helen exhaled. “In my time—and I speak not of tenants, but masters—the desire to love and be loved survived in small and broken ways.
“Love became ownership. It was conflated, in its twisted way, with possession. Possession might arise from the need toprotect—but it did not end there. That is not what has happened with the cohort yet.”
Yet.
“It is a worry. Should they fracture along lines of twisted love, it will not be safe for you to have them here as guests.” Helen’s tone made clear what that meant: they would have to leave.
“Isn’t the decision mine?”
There was a long pause between the end of Kaylin’s question and the answer. “Yes.”
“...it’s not mine.”
“It is yours while you survive.” Helen’s eyes were obsidian—Kaylin hadn’t noticed the shift until it was complete. “If you perish, you will have no say.”
It came to Kaylin then that Helen, her serene, gentle home, was angry.
“I am,” Helen said, although Kaylin didn’t ask out loud. “And I am struggling not to be so. The reason I chose you as a tenant is also the reason you have the cohort as guests. It is the reason that Bellusdeo was offered chambers, along with her Ascendant. It is the reason Imelda now makes use of my kitchen. Fallessian has helped her create an herb garden in the back of the house.
“You make your choices, and I approve of them inasmuch as I can. But of all the people gathered beneath this roof, you are the most precious to me.”
“And Mrs. Erickson.”
At that, the obsidian receded from the Avatar’s eyes. “And Imelda, yes.” Helen exhaled. “I understand the importance of Terrano, and Iamangry, but I also understand that in some ways, my anger is blaming the victim, not the criminal. I admit a certain satisfaction at Sedarias’s rage, which is why I have made no attempt to intervene.”
It was hard to stop Sedarias when she was on a tear.
“No,” Helen said, eyes once again darkening. “It is not. But we have so little time together, I do not want any of it to be wasted.” Helen exhaled. “I will tell Terrano and Sedarias that you have returned.” She turned to Severn for the first time since they’d arrived. “Will you join them?”
Severn nodded. “They can’t go overlong, regardless of the discussion topic. Kaylin is expected by the Consort. If you believe her presence here is safe, it is unlikely the High Halls will refuse her.”
Kaylin headed straight to Terrano.
Terrano, however, was with Sedarias—and Annarion, and the unmoving Nightshade. Mandoran was leaning against the wall farthest from where the rest of his cohort were standing.
It was an odd sight, if she thought about it; they were vibrating with tension, blue eyes, and that stillness that spoke of the strain of preserving it—all in perfect silence.
Kaylin sometimes agreed with Terrano and Mandoran: her life with the cohort would be aloteasier if she knew their True Names. Today, however, she was grateful for that silence. And it would force the cohort’s various members to actually choose the words that left their mouth. Almost no one regulated theirthoughtsthat way; thoughts were private.
Kaylin had learned—and it had beenhardin her first years with the Hawks as their unofficial mascot—that she couldn’t unsay words she’d spoken in anger. Words weren’t illegal, but they were weapons. She couldn’t retract them any more than she could unwind time to unstab someone.
What had Teela said?Your ability to control your actions—words count, kitling—is a measure of self-control that implies you are struggling toward adulthood.
She wondered as she waited for the cohort to fully include her in their interrupted discussion, if having people who couldconstantly hear her every thought meant that they’d always think of her as a child.
Mandoran was the first to break away, which wasn’t unusual. He pulled himself up off the wall and headed for Kaylin, glancing at Severn. The cohort’s relationship with Severn was one of mutual respect and a lot more social distance than they ever offered Kaylin.
“You probably don’t want to be in this room,” Mandoran said, heading toward the exit as if to lead them both to safety.