Page 36 of Cast in Conflict

This was why the Emperor hadn’t wanted Bellusdeo living here. Kaylin had thought it stupid, and repented. In theory, the Dragon could handle the cohort; had they been twelve normal Barrani, it would have been a concern, but not enough to cause panic.

Only one of the twelve was normal Barrani. No, that wasn’t true. The one who was normal wielded one of The Three—blades created to kill Dragons—and was a lord of the High Court, a former Arcanist, and an Imperial Hawk.

Kaylin was certain Teela wouldn’t attempt to kill Bellusdeo. Not unless Bellusdeo attacked or attempted to kill one of the cohort. But if hostilities began between the two—Bellusdeo and cohort—that was bound to happen sooner or later.

She needed the conflict to be resolved now.

Fallessian rose from the dining table. He faced Kaylin fully. “We were created for war. We were created to fight—and kill—Dragons.”

Kaylin nodded uneasily.

“In pursuit of the end of war, our people did things they should never have done.”

“I’m sure the Dragons did things they should never have done, either.”

Fallessian nodded. “None of the things the Dragons did prevented us from continuing as a species. Nothing they did stopped our children—few in number compared to mortals—from being born. But our Lords were willing to sacrifice us, and if we are angry, the anger is personal. We would feel far less anger had we not been personally abandoned. Except for Sedarias; in Mellarionne, they fought a tournament; the winner was selected.”

“We almost committed genocide.” His eyes were unblinking as they met Kaylin’s. “That was the intent. And no, we don’t know how it was accomplished. We know only that Bellusdeo is the last of the female Dragons, and the only one who can lay a clutch.” He hesitated as Terrano turned to him; so did Torrisant. “She’s like our only chance at redemption.”

Kaylin’s mouth was half-open; she closed it, staring at Fallessian. “Redemption? It’s not like you personally had anything to do with near genocide; you almost died yourselves.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling him,” Terrano said.

Fallessian shook his head.

“So you can accept that you were thrown away, but you can’t accept that an act of war killed all the female Dragons?”

“We survived,” he replied. “And if she survives, if she has children...” He trailed off, his skin slightly flushed. “I don’t care,” he snapped. “It’s what I believe.” He turned on his heel, as if he could not stand to remain in the physical presence of his friends.

The silence left in his wake was awkward verging on lethal.

“Don’t look at me,” Terrano said. “I think he’s being an idiot.”

Torrisant was one of the anti-Dragon faction among the cohort. It was probably why he spoke so little and avoided any chance of encountering Bellusdeo in person.

Mandoran, however, was not. “It’s not that I like Dragons,” he snapped. “But I like Bellusdeo, and we owe her. We’d’ve lost most of you if it weren’t for that Dragon. We’re important enough—to me—that I feel like the debt is huge. We should pay it.”

“We can pay it when we’re more established.”

Mandoran snorted. “And when exactly is that going to be?”

“She’s not our problem. In case you missed it, we’ve got problems of our own!” Torrisant’s eyes were now indigo.

Fair enough. So were Mandoran’s. Kaylin made her way—quickly—to the dining room door and headed to the safety of her room.

Kaylin knew Sedarias and the rest of the cohort were now at home. She was certain that the entire neighborhood—possibly half the city—could hear it. The cohort didn’t need to actually speak when they were arguing, because they could read each other’s thoughts with the ease of both comfort and long practice.

When their tempers frayed, they resorted to more physical interactions, many of which did not always involve having a properly corporeal body. If they couldn’t be bothered to use unnecessary speech, they sometimes descended into what Kaylin could only describe as roaring.

And for people who claimed to dislike Dragons, there wasn’t a lot of difference in the volume and sound of the cohort’s roars and the Dragons’—but there were more cohort.

She rolled over onto her stomach and pulled her pillow over her head, which dislodged small and squawky and caused his version of roar—angry bird noises.

“Kaylin,” Helen’s voice woke her fully as light flooded what had been a dark room.

“There’s nothing I can do about the cohort and their arguments.”

“It is not only the cohort involved in this argument.”

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