Page 145 of Cast in Conflict

She had retreated because she couldn’t answer it.

Sedarias wouldn’t have been able to answer it had it been asked of her, either.

Emmerian never seemed to want anything with the visceral rage or desire that characterized either Bellusdeo or Sedarias. He didn’t seem to want with the visceral desperation that had caused Kaylin to attach herself to the Halls of Law and hold on as tightly as she could with both hands.

Oblivious, she thought. She folded her knees and sat on the ice while mist rolled up above her head. She closed her eyes. She could see the marks on her arms come to life, but they remained level with her skin. She understood, though; it wasn’t the marks that were needed here.

If Emmerian was not Sedarias—and he was nothing like the leader of the cohort—he was trapped by some of the same things. They were things Kaylin understood—how could she not?

She had wanted the Hawks desperately.

She had been certain she had not deserved them. She had done things that would prevent her from ever joining their ranks—but she’d done them outside of the remit of Imperial Law. As if that made a difference. And it did—a bureaucratic difference. She could stay.

Teela had fought for it. Marcus—growly and terrifying—had fought for it. She hadn’t understood why, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they win. That she be allowed to stay in this life that she so desperately wanted to be worthy of when she wasn’t.

She opened her eyes.

Emmerian stood opposite her, his back toward her, his hands loosely clasped behind him.

“Bellusdeo will not be happy that you are here,” he said.

“You don’t care about that.”

“I do, actually. It is her relationship with—and her dependence on—you that has caused some difficulty at court. But,” he exhaled. “I don’t fear it in the same way, no.”

“Is Karriamis right?” she asked.

He met her gaze in silence.

“Was it you? Or was it Bellusdeo? He must have taken that thought from someone.” She stopped. “Oh.”

He said nothing.

“But I don’t understand—if it wasn’t you...” She tried again. “You admire her. You respect her. You see her, not as a necessary mother, but as...Bellusdeo. If somehow it was her...”

“I am not the youngest of the court; that would be Tiamaris. And he has achieved something singular; he has found his hoard. He has claimed his territory. You know the chancellor. You have encountered the Emperor and Lord Diarmat. And you have personal experience with the current Arkon. You have seen them all fight.”

“I saw you fight as well.”

He shook his head. “I have never been considered exceptional among my kin. I was content not to be. I understood my duties. I performed them to the best of my abilities.” His hands tightened. “Has Bellusdeo spoken to you about the phenomenon of draconic hoards?”

“A little?”

“Has Lord Sanabalis? The chancellor?”

“Also a little. I think Bellusdeo said that sometimes the Dragon involved would go insane.”

“Yes. I have seen much of it, in my distant youth, before the wars that almost destroyed our ancient people.”

“But the Empire is the Emperor’s hoard.”

“Yes. And Tara is Tiamaris’s. Insanity is not always guaranteed, and in its absence, what is left is focus, responsibility, dedication. It is not considered a sign of adulthood; I am adult. But it is always considered significant. We do not dream of a specific hoard; it remains amorphous. To what, in the end, can we give the whole of our thought, our dedication, our love? What is broad enough to bear the focus of the Dragons?”

“The Academia is the chancellor’s hoard,” she said, frowning.

Emmerian nodded. “And, as you must suspect, it is not. It is what he hoped for, yearned for, dreamed of in his own youth—but he is not as Tiamaris is; for Tiamaris it was instant—the yearning, the force of it, the commitment. For Lannagaros, it was different. The Barrani cannot see the difference, and will not question it. It is his hoard.”

“You think Bellusdeo could?”

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