02
She hadn’t heard from Nightshade in almost a month. Helen kept the namebond contact out of the house, because she didn’t completely trust the fieflord. But Helen let him into the house, in person, whenever he wanted to visit Annarion. If she didn’t entirely trust him, she didn’t entirely distrust him, either. Kaylin, sprinting all out, didn’t disagree.
Ynpharion’s warning, Sanabalis’s information, and her own sense of restless anxiety had come together in a visceral near certainty. That and her bleeding cheek. Severn kept pace with her; they could run without break through a quarter of the city, but not at an all-out sprint. Gaining the bridge across the Ablayne required slowing to a quick jog.
They were wearing the Hawks’ tabard. The guards situated on the fief side of the bridge frowned but made no attempt to stop them. They jogged across the bridge, into Tiamaris proper. The Dragon had made significant changes to the fief he ruled in the short time he’d captained the Tower; it now felt like a poorer district within Elantra. Not the warrens, but a place that was slowly struggling its way out of that almost lawless state.
She hit the fief side of the bridge and shouted. “Tara!” She then continued to jog.
She wasn’t surprised to see the shadow of a Dragon’s descent before she’d reached the streets that formed part of the Tiamaris-Nightshade border.
“This had better be an emergency,” the Dragon fieflord said, his orange-red eyes the size of Kaylin’s face.
“I need to get to Nightshade.”
“That fief is not under my jurisdiction.”
“No—it’s Nightshade’s. At least for now.”
“Your cheek is bleeding.” He exhaled a stream of smoke; that was his only pause. “Very well. Get on. If this causes diplomatic issues, the Halls of Law will hear about it. Tara is concerned,” he added, which explained the speed of his appearance. Kaylin had expected that. He lowered himself to ground so Kaylin could scrabble up his side.
Severn leaped up onto Tiamaris’s back, behind Kaylin; they both braced themselves as the Dragon launched his bulk into the sky. The city shrunk beneath Tiamaris, but not too much; he flew as close to the ground as the aerial demands of flight permitted.
“Where?” he asked.
“I don’t know—I just know something’s wrong!”
“Do you know where he was?”
“I just said—” She stopped. “He didn’t answer. When I reached out, he didn’t answer at all. It’s namebond stuff. I don’t always understand it.”
“Clearly.” The word was more felt than heard; Tiamaris vibrated with the sound of his own voice. “You can, however, find him if he still lives.”
She felt the hair on her arms rise in a ripple of goose bumps and sensitivity. Tiamaris, in draconic form, was casting a spell—a traditional one, in Sanabalis’s terms. Severn snaked an arm around her waist as she closed her eyes; she wasn’t certain which came first.
Nightshade.
Silence.
Tell us where you are. We’re coming on dragonback.
Silence.
She’d been told she would know if he was dead. No one whose name she held had died—not yet.
Ynpharion said,So, it starts. And it ends.
If you can find it in yourself, be helpful or shut up.
The Consort believes he was traveling to see his brother.
Why?She cursed.Never mind. Not important.It wasn’t. How the Consort knew could wait. Nightshade himself couldn’t. She inhaled, exhaling slowly as wind whipped strands of hair from her face.
If it was true that she’d know if Nightshade was dead, he wasn’t. Not yet. But Ynpharion believed she could find him. Somehow. It had been a long time since she’d been the one to initiate contact with the fieflord. He, like Ynpharion, was aware of where she was or what she was doing—or he could be.
But he hadn’t reached out either, and if she were honest, she was comfortable with that. She wasn’t comfortable with his death. Didn’t examine the why of that. Instead, she listened as she tried to find Nightshade through a namebond she didn’t really understand.
But Ynpharion, curse him, was right. She could sensesomething, a flicker of light she could almost see, although her eyes were closed.