Cast In Courtlight (37 page)

The Barrani had obviously never had to dally with the seamstress guild, which was probably a damn good thing – for the guild. The dress that had been laid out for Kaylin was not only graceful and elegant but also practical in ways the dress requisitioned by the soon-to-be-berserk Quartermaster could never have been. It was long, yes, and fine, and its sleeves ran the full length of her arms – or she wouldn’t have worn it.

Severn made a comment, and she frowned. “What?”

“I asked you what you would have done instead.”

“I’d have made
you
wear it and I’d have worn your damn armor.”

She was
comfortable
in this dress. First, it had very few buttons, which meant, with some effort, she could put the damn thing on by herself. Second, she could bend and touch her toes without being crushed by the seams, boning and the shape of the cloth. Third, she could kick a man’s face without ripping the hem of the skirt. Or skirts. They fell as if they were one piece, but they seemed to be layered and split to allow for something as practical as running. She could probably do splits in this dress. Not that she was about to try where anyone could see her. She had little enough dignity as it was.

She wished she’d thought of asking for the dress
before
she’d asked Andellen for a tour of the Halls.

“Okay. You’re wearing a dress,” Severn said. He’d actually taken the time to get something like sleep. That, and he’d shaved his face. Or had it shaved. Either way, he looked awake and alert.

She could tell, by the slight compression of his lips, that she probably looked like crap. Or what was left of crap after it had been kicked around and stepped on lots.

“I’ll sleep,” she told him. “Just – I have a couple of things I thought I’d check first – ”

“You can do that in your dreams.”

“Severn – ”

He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her.”

I’m really not as tired as you look – I mean, as you think I look – ”

His smile almost defined the word
smug
. “Before you continue to wedge your foot into your mouth – while it’s still moving – Teela did mention that she had to fish your face out of the water when you fell asleep washing your hair.”

“I wasn’t sleeping – I was washing my face!”

“While choking a lot. She was fairly impressed.”

“I bet.”

“Your money.”

“My money.”

He laughed. “Kaylin, you can’t hunt forever. You need to sleep, even if it’s only for a few hours. Now is a good time.”

She really wanted to argue more. Partly because it came naturally, and partly because in some perverse way she enjoyed it. But she was
yawning
, or rather, doing the world’s worst job of stilling a yawn.

She did need the sleep. But she wasn’t home.
You slept at the Castle
, she told herself with some heated contempt.

But the Castle was different.

“Kaylin?”

“I don’t want to sleep here,” she finally told him.

“It’s better than underwater.” He looked at the guards. “Wait outside,” he told them. “Watch the doors.”

They both looked at him for a moment, but Samaran looked at Andellen before he nodded. Andellen took orders from Severn as if he’d spent a life perfecting the art. Kaylin was too tired to work out why.

“They’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“And you?”

“I’ll stay,” he told her quietly. “I had some sleep. I’ll watch.”

“You’ll watch?”

He nodded. “I’ll watch over you.”

Seven years dissolved as the words reached her. She managed to wobble her way over to the very large bed; it bounced a little – or she did, she couldn’t be certain which.

She listened for the sound of ferals, in a room filled with colored light, half a city away. She listened for the wind. And she listened for the sound of Severn’s breathing; it was distant.

She lifted her head, trying to focus on his face.

He was there. He saw her expression. His was an odd thing, half-broken, unadorned by sarcasm or neutrality or irony. He waited for her to speak.

She lifted a hand, instead.

And he came to her, quietly, his steps absorbed by the floor, by fading consciousness. He sat beside her awkwardly, but he sat. The sound of his breathing was close enough now that she could rest. The Lord of the West March faced the Lord of the Green. They looked like twins, to her eye, but she was sleeping, and knew it. Which should have been more disturbing than it actually was. There was an unreality here that was much, much stronger than the lack of cohesion she had faced in the High Halls.

They greeted each other politely, raising their hands. As if in ritual. Or in public. As she watched them, she examined their clothing; they wore, of all things, armor – chain, something flexible and shimmering. No helms, but that was typical of the Barrani; they wouldn’t want to hide their faces or encumber their vision.

They wore capes, though; one was brown and one was green. By this, she could tell them apart. As she studied them, as they stood facing each other, she could tell other things about them. The Lord of the West March was worried. It was an odd shade of blue that expressed that worry; it was lined with a green that was deep and dark, and she thought – gazing at him – that his eyes would always hold some depth of green when he regarded his brother.

The Lord of the Green, however – his eyes were almost black. And black was not a color she had ever seen Barrani eyes take. She wondered what it meant.

And he turned, at that moment, to stare at her.

“Do you not know?” he asked. There was no scorn in the question, but it was not neutral; it was weighted with pain, and a twisted longing.

She shook her head. Mute.

He walked away from his brother, and she saw the Lord of the West March flinch but hold his ground.

The Lord of the Green raised a hand, but he did not try to touch her; she could see, in fact, that he was struggling to do the opposite; to keep his hand from its natural trajectory. “I understand what I am now,” he told her.

I don’t
. But she didn’t say the words. She couldn’t.

He pointed at her arms. She looked down. They were bare. The rest of her wasn’t; she was dressed in Barrani silks that fell from her shoulders, and only her shoulders, as if they were anchors. The skirts were long enough to hide the other marks, but those, too, were present.

She lifted her arms. The words were moving across her skin, losing and taking form as they traveled. She shook her head.

He said, “I was ambitious.”

She nodded at this simple statement of fact. From a Barrani, it was the equivalent, in Kaylin’s mind, of saying “I’m breathing.”

“And I was firstborn. I went to the tower.”

She met his gaze; it was black, but she could see some small trace of color in the darkness, and she found it comforting.

“My brother went with me,” he added.

“To the test?”

“No. That, the High Halls would not allow, nor would I. But that was his desire.”

“What word?” she whispered softly.

“Do you not know? Can you not guess?”

She shook her head.

And he traced a rune in the air between them; his finger, glowing, trailed blue light.

She saw it clearly, and took a step forward; he took a step back, maintaining the small distance between them. “That was – it was – the same. As mine.”

“Yes.”

“But – ” Speech, it seemed, had returned to her.

“Yes. The same.”

“Did you see what I saw?”

“No, Kaylin. You will never be Lord of the High Halls.” He grimaced. “And neither will I. It is a truth that the Lord of the West March will not accept.” He paused, and then he whispered another word.
Lirienne
.

His brother’s name.

She didn’t know how to pretend she hadn’t heard it. Nor did he seem surprised that she could.

“Do you know what rune he saw?” the Lord of the Green asked her, and turned, then, to look at his brother, standing in isolation.

“No.”

He lifted a hand again, and again he traced a symbol in the air. This one, however, although it looked familiar to her eyes, was not. She frowned.

“It means
duty
,” the Lord of the Green told her quietly.

She nodded. It made sense. Probably because she was dreaming; in dreams, all things had their own logic.

“He told you?” she asked softly.

“He told me.”

It didn’t surprise her. “He passed,” she said quietly.

“He passed as if there was no test, and no testing,” the Lord of the Green replied. There was pride in the voice. It wasn’t mirrored in the eyes, but the blackness of the eyes were almost impenetrable. Color had so little purchase there, she didn’t expect more.

“He passed and he came to us in the High Court.” He paused, and added, “In our history, his was the shortest of the tests offered by the High Halls. It was almost as if… as if they had already made their decision.”

“Yours wasn’t so easy.”

“I do not say his test was easy, I merely say that he bested it without doubt.”

She said quietly, “And you didn’t.”

Black, black eyes.

“But you returned.”

“I returned.” He looked again at the Lord of the West March. “He understands his duty,” he said quietly, and again, with pain and hesitation, “and he will
not
do it.”

“You – ” She stopped talking. She almost stopped breathing. “You can’t expect him to
kill you
.”

“He is the Lord of the West March. He faced his ordeal, and he accepted it.”

“He had no choice
but
to accept it! He had to take the test – ”

“Kaylin,” the Lord of the Green said. “Elianne.”

She nodded.

“You faced the test of
duty
yourself. You failed.”

And felt a sudden surge of wild anger take her, hemming her words in. Honing them. But when they were sharp enough to cut, she found that she could no longer speak. Speech, it seemed, was at the whim of the damn Lord of the damn Green.

“He did not understand, when he returned, that his test was yet to come.”

“And you did?”

“Then? I was envious, Elianne. I was envious and afraid. My brother is in all ways a better man than I. He had duty… I had choice.”

“But
what the Hells choice did you make?
” The words came out in a jumble of syllables that seemed to go on without break.

He looked at her, his black eyes unblinking. “I should never have returned,” he whispered. “I should have died there.”

It wasn’t much of an answer.

“And,” he added softly, “I would have. Laws were broken on the day I went into the tower. They are not your laws, little Hawk. They are not your negotiations. They have no guardians, they appoint none.” He hesitated. “My brother must not fail,” he said at last, and turned and began to walk away. “Because I still do not have the strength to do what must be done. I live. And while I live, we face a death that you can neither comprehend – nor allow.” He did not turn back to her. “You faced the test my brother now faces, and you failed it, and you were saved the consequences of your failure by another. If my brother fails, in the end, remember your own life with kindness.”

And she remembered Steffi and Jade, and woke screaming.

Severn knew the scream, and held her anyway. She saw his face upon waking, and she struggled a moment before reality asserted itself. Then she stilled. The Barrani guards had opened the door, but they had not entered; they stood in the frame a moment, as if assessing the situation. They couldn’t see Severn’s face, but hers told them enough. They closed the door, and remained on the other side of it.

She said indistinctly, “I hate the Barrani.”

He tightened his grip for a moment, and then let her go. “What have they done this time? And keeping in mind that anything that happens in your dreams isn’t a subject for the Law.”

“It’s the
leoswuld
,” she told him.

He said nothing.

“And their law. Which isn’t our law. Or really, law at all.” She sat up.

“Kaylin.”

And looked at him. “You never told me what the Lord of the High Court said to you after I left.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“What did he say?”

“I didn’t tell you for a reason,” he replied stiffly.

“He knew.”

“Knew what?”

“About you. About the – about our past.”

Severn said nothing. She reached up and touched his face, and he almost shied away. But he was Severn; he didn’t. “He told you – ”

“Kaylin, leave it. Please.”

She nodded. “How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours.”

“I don’t feel much better.” She slid off the bed. Looked at the shoes that lay on the floor. She wondered if she could get Barrani shoes to match the dress. Probably. But not now, and she wanted them now.

“Where are you going?” he asked her softly.

“Back,” she said grimly, “to the tower.”

His face went still. “I’ll go with you.”

She hesitated, but it wasn’t much of a hesitation. “The ceremony – it’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Where are we going?”

“Oh,” she said breezily, “almost anywhere.”

He muttered something about Leontines and acting.

“I heard that.”

They got up and left the room.

Andellen and Samaran parted like gates as they left the room. Andellen actually bowed.

“Do you listen to every damn word I say?” she asked him.

His face was a study in neutrality. Armored neutrality. But his eyes were an odd shade of green.

She marched along the halls, failing to notice the striking elements of singular beauty that could be found in it – if someone actually cared. At the moment, Kaylin didn’t. “What do you seek?” Andellen asked her after they’d been walking for five minutes in a grim silence.

Without looking at him, she said, “The heart of the High Halls.”

“I would have said you found it.”

“Funny, so would I.”

He stopped walking, which she barely noticed. Severn did, however, and caught her arm. She turned, not even bothering to hide her growing irritation. Because it was a lot like agitation. So much so, that she wasn’t sure she could separate them.