Page 93 of Cast in Conflict

Kaylin exhaled. She hadn’t been willing to make the sacrifices Hope would ask for—not even when it would have saved the lives of fellow Hawks. Hope understood this. She wondered if there would ever be a time when she would be so desperate, the sacrifices would seem a reasonable cost.

She hoped not.

And she understood, watching the Dragons she could see, and inferring the presence of Mandoran, who she couldn’t, that this was something Bellusdeo had to deal with. Somehow.

You need to have more faith in the friends you have chosen.

They don’t.

Yes. It is much harder for some to have faith in themselves than it is to have faith in others. But that faith can be of critical import.

Emmerian was driven back, into a pillar. The pillar cracked.

Mandoran proved he hadn’t been injured. “Come on! You came all the way to the Tower to lose your temper and destroy it? What is wrong with you?” His words didn’t come from a single fixed location; parts of the sentence—the first parts—came from far too close to angry dragon, but the rest, from behind. Kaylin wished she could see him.

Hope obligingly lifted one translucent wing. He didn’t even smack her across the face with it.

Mandoran didn’t have wings. He looked, at this distance, like himself. But he appeared to be walking—to be leaping—on air, his feet touching nothing, his legs bunched to aid his momentum. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes at this distance, but could see his expression; he was concentrating, his brows slanting inward, his gaze bouncing around the room as if seeking the right spots on which to land—and instantly leap away.

Emmerian couldn’t see him; he could see Emmerian. He didn’t consider Emmerian a threat.

She wondered if this magic, this almost-flight, had been used by the Barrani in their wars with the Dragons; if it had, she had never heard of it. Maybe she’d just never listened.

“Breathe,” Severn said, far more loudly than he usually did.

She nodded. She knew the cohort had abilities that the normal Barrani—even Arcanists—didn’t. In this gigantic room, it was Mandoran she watched.

Emmerian didn’t attack Bellusdeo. He shouted at her, just as Mandoran had, but made no attempt to hurt her; Kaylin wished Bellusdeo was half as aware of the harm her own actions might cause. The gold Dragon landed sideways against a different pillar. This one cracked as well. The ground was shaking with the reverberations of angry Dragon words. Kaylin looked down the hall, and then up, to the heights; she wasn’t certain the pillars would remain standing, and she didn’t know enough about architectural structure to accurately guess how many pillars the hall could lose before the ceiling came down on their heads.

The three who were in an odd dance of not-quite-combat would survive. She and Severn might not.

He nodded, although she hadn’t spoken a word, and began to head toward the arch that implied exit on the far side of a room that was three city blocks in length.

But when the third column cracked, Mandoran shouted, “You’ll kill Kaylin if you keep this up!”

Bellusdeo turned, then, her gaze finding the ground that Kaylin and Severn had only just deserted.

Blood red eyes snapped shut as the largest person in the room came fully, and finally, to a halt.

Emmerian landed immediately, and shed the draconic form just as quickly; Mandoran, however, remained in the air, looking down. He met Kaylin’s gaze and nodded, but his expression remained strained; the cheeky grin that was so at home on his face it seemed permanent was nowhere in sight. He looked exhausted, to her eye—and no wonder. His eyes returned to Bellusdeo.

The mortal form failed to emerge from the draconic one, but Bellusdeo’s eyes remained closed. “Lord Emmerian?” she said in Barrani, the words a rumble of sound that didn’t threaten to deafen people with normal ears. Or Kaylin’s ears, at any rate.

“I am uninjured,” Emmerian replied. “You?”

Bellusdeo inhaled, a long, loud rasp of sound. Kaylin tensed—anyone who had seen a Dragon breathe fire would have—but the tension was unnecessary. What Bellusdeo exhaled was air and a small amount of smoke, normal when she was irritated.

“I believe the room has been structurally impaired,” Emmerian continued, when she failed to speak. “If you feel it is safe to do so, we should leave this hall.”

She nodded. She did not, however, resume her usual form.

The hall was easily wide enough and tall enough to support a Dragon walking down it. Emmerian chose to walk by Bellusdeo’s side; Kaylin and Severn were shunted to the rear. Bellusdeo clearly now felt that the Tower itself, or the intelligence behind it, was a threat; allowing the Hawks to serve as scouts was off the table. Kaylin’s attempt to put it back on the table was dismissed without a single word.

She accepted it. She understood. Protecting people—no, protecting weaker people, which currently meant Kaylin—was something Bellusdeo could cling to; it was normal. It was the type of normal that often frustrated Kaylin, but not today. Today, she was almost willing to go full pathetic, just to help the gold Dragon cling to sanity.

I would not suggest it. It was Nightshade.

Did you see everything?

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