Page 30 of Cast in Atonement

“But you got sent to the green with the rest of the cohort. I mean—wasn’t that about gaining power?”

“It was about gaining power to fight the Dragons,” he replied, voice low. “It wasn’t about gaining power in the court itself.”

Mandoran snorted. Loudly.

“We weren’t!” Torrisant snapped.

“Torri isn’t the most politically canny of our number,” Mandoran said.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I am. I’m not interested in politics, especially not ours. But I’m aware of the undercurrents and the jostling for position. You weren’t sent to the green because Immolan wanted to contribute powerful soldiers to the war effort. You were sent because powerful soldiers meant more power for Immolan.” Mandoran folded his arms and tilted his chair onto its two back legs.

Torrisant glared at Mandoran. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Immolan’s fortunes fell during our long absence. They’re part of the High Court, but they have no reliable power.”

Before Kaylin could ask, Mandoran said, “They’re remaining neutral. They don’t support Sedarias. But they don’t support any other member of Mellarionne either; they consider the fight for the line to be irrelevant to their interests.”

Kaylin glanced at Annarion; he ate. But he ate without looking at either Mandoran or Torrisant; he had opinions but was trying to remain neutral.

“Let’s go with Torrisant’s opinion for now,” Kaylin said. “If they were a family of scholar mages, did they hope to increase your power so it would be useful in that regard?”

Torrisant nodded stiffly. He was—no doubt—arguing silently with Mandoran.

“Did you have to be tested in some way before you were chosen?”

“I wasn’t the main branch at the time. All of the families who owed allegiance to Immolan produced their children to be tested.”

“And it was a magical power test?”

“It was—but Immolan’s tests are unusual, and highly secretive.”

“So you passed—or failed, depending on how your parents felt about it?”

He nodded.

“And I suppose there’s no way to know whether or not you’d have hearing this sensitive if you hadn’t been exposed to the regalia.”

“Sedarias highly doubts that this sensitivity is useful,” Mandoran added.

“Can I ask a different question?”

Torrisant nodded.

“Why did you not go to the Academia with Serralyn and Valliant?”

Mandoran and Annarion both winced.

Fallessian, who hadn’t spoken once, stood. “Immolan was a family of scholar mages—but Torrisant had no desire to become a scholar. Not then, and not now. He was abandoned—we were all abandoned—by ambitious parents, or parents who were too weak to have a choice.

“Torrisant won’t go to the Academia because he doesn’t want to give Immolan, and his mostly dead ancestors, any advantage from that ancient decision. We are people, not tools. We get to decide what we make of our own lives. Maybe if we’d had a choice, as Sedarias did, we’d feel differently. We didn’t, and we don’t. Torrisant won’t become what they wanted him to become.

“None of us will.”

“Sedarias is An’Mellarionne.”

“Because that’s what Sedarias wanted—and wants. She wasn’t there for Mellarionne. She was there for reasons she chose. We support her because this is what she wants. And without Sedarias, the cohort might not have existed at all.”

Torrisant lifted a hand, and Fallessian fell silent. His eyes were a dark blue; he was angry. Kaylin hoped his anger wasn’t directed at her. “Helen is our home now. She may consider us to be your guests, but we consider ourselves to be tenants—with the same responsibilities you shoulder.

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