Page 17 of Cast in Atonement

“The gift itself is not a singular thing, as research showed. It is like any other magical gift: there is a greater—or lesser—power to be found in individuals. This is true of magical gifts in any individuals of any race. Some are more talented than others. Necromancy—and it was not designated as such, as it could not be taught or learned—was similar. Some were more gifted than others.

“But a few of the people who had consented to this long study—much of it lost, with Ravellon—felt that the dead they could see were not all of the dead; they were...displaced. They were trapped. There was a strong sense that the dead—the mortal dead—should not be here. In a few cases, what they called remnants were powerful enough to trouble the living, or to harm them.

“Understand that to the Immortal, the harm these ghosts could do was minimal; it was hardly notable at all. Or so it was believed. But scholars are scholars for a reason; some become enamored of their chosen areas of research, even if that research yielded no obviously practical results. I have been accused of such focus in my time.

“Ah, but I digress. What remains of that research are the notebooks inscribed during some of the studies.”

They were contained in the library. Kaylin didn’t understand how new books appeared in the vast and endless archive, but she knew the Arbiters believed all books of any kind made their way to this singular collection.

“There were, during the centuries of research, three subjects considered of import and note.”

Bellusdeo resumed her pacing. She was patient enough—barely—not to interrupt the Arbiter, but he clearly wasn’t answering her questions.

“Mortals die. Their ghosts, in theory, should not have powers they did not possess while alive. But their lives were prescribed by the Ancients; we understood the boundaries of those existences because they were in front of our eyes, should we choose to look. The dead did not occupy that space. But perhaps the strength of their memories left an aftershock as they died. In all of the cases involving the subjects and their use of their power, resentment and rage fueled the existence of the ghosts.”

Kaylin frowned, considering his words, and considering, as well, Helen’s previous opinion. What he said aligned with Helen’s brief comments.

But it didn’t align with her experience. Jamal had not been the product of his death in the way Starrante’s words implied; he had been a child, with the same sense of mischief and anger that children were less practiced at controlling. He had the same longing for company, the same desire to protect the people he loved, the same need for friends. He’d had friends: the other kidnapped and murdered children, Katie, Esmeralda, and Callis.

Was it because his death had been so unusual? His body had died fifteen to twenty years after he’d been separated from it, as had the bodies of the other three children.

She glanced at Bellusdeo and froze. The Dragon’s eyes were a terrible color, a copper-tinged green.

Kaylin wasn’t the only person to have noticed this; Starrante might have been the only one who didn’t.

“No, dear,” Mrs. Erickson told Bellusdeo, reaching out to touch the back of hands that had balled into fists. “They do not resent. They are not bound to you because they believe you were responsible for their deaths. They are sad, yes—but if they have one thing in common, it is their love for you.”

“You can’t know that,” Bellusdeo whispered. She turned to the old woman without freeing her hands.

“I think I’m the only person in this room who can,” Mrs. Erickson replied. “They are very, very concerned for you at the moment. They’re afraid of the color of your eyes.”

“They can’t say what they feel—”

“One of them has just said she was angry when you stole...something, I’m sorry, I can’t quite make sense of the word. She says it happened in the Aerie. Lannagaros gave you a...charm? Something protective. You broke yours in... I’m sorry, these are her words, not mine. You broke yours in a fit of temper. You didn’t want to ask Lannagaros for another one, because you wanted to avoid a lecture. So you stole hers.”

The chancellor’s brows folded as he watched Bellusdeo; the Dragon’s eyes widened, but the ugly green receded, leaving her eyes a copper-orange blend.

“She doesn’t mean to embarrass you,” Mrs. Erickson continued. “But she wishes me to make clear that I can hear them, and she felt that this incident would serve as proof. It is not rage that fuels their presence.”

Bellusdeo returned to the seat she had vacated, lowering her chin until her expression couldn’t easily be seen.

04

The chancellor’s eyes shifted between Bellusdeo and Mrs. Erickson. Given the affection Lannagaros felt for the gold Dragon, Kaylin was surprised.

Mrs. Erickson wasn’t silent; she was speaking in Bellusdeo’s direction, but it was clear she wasn’t speaking to the living Dragon.

“She wants to know what you want for yourselves.”

“I want to know what they want at all. I didn’t mean to bind them. I didn’t mean to tie them down. If they were happy to be where they are, I wouldn’t care. Kaylin’s mentioned your ghosts—the children—but they wanted to be with you. They wanted to be with you for as long as you lived.

“Dragons live forever, unless something kills them. Mortals don’t. I think your children knew that—but they wanted your company.”

Mrs. Erickson shook her head. “They were trapped in my house. If they hadn’t been trapped, I’m not certain my company would have had any appeal to them; they were children. They might have left my house and gone to where other children play.”

“But they couldn’t interact with them. They could interact with you. They didn’t stay with you because they were raging. They didn’t stay with you because they wanted revenge.”

Kaylin nodded. “They knew who had killed them, but they were terrified, not enraged. Bellusdeo is right: those children loved you. They were with you because they did.”

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