Page 90 of Cast in Atonement

Kaylin was not up to asking the same question of Emmerian, but the Dragon said, “Then it appears our races have that in common, if little else.”

“Is this the part where you both remind me that human love only has to last a measly few decades?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. You’ve got enough to rant about today.”

Bellusdeo did not join them at the Academia. Kaylin assumed she was with Helen and Mrs. Erickson, either of whom—absent the pain of her lost sisters and the guilt their pain induced—were calming, gentle influences. Her sisters absorbed all her focus—of course they did. What she wanted right now was for those sisters to somehow be at peace. What she didn’t want was to have a clutch of baby Dragons.

Kaylin considered duty and power as she walked. Had someone told her that she, Kaylin Neya, was the sole hope of humanity—but she had to bear a bunch of children in order to save it—she wasn’t certain what she’d do. She couldn’t imagine she would ever be that important, that singular.

Even if she in theory wanted to save the human race, becoming a mother wasn’t part of her future. Because being a mother involved an actual child. She was fine with the idea that saving humanity—or the rest of the world—was part of her responsibility as the bearer of the marks of the Chosen, but she expected that salvation to be gained by the dint of martial arts.

She wasn’t certain she could even be a good parent. But there were more practical problems. Babies didn’t just somehow grow on their own; they required a father.

Ugh. Her sympathy for Bellusdeo soared as the Academia came into view.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Isn’t that Killian?” Mandoran asked, Barrani vision being better than hers.

“We haven’t even reached the building yet.”

“He’s standing in the middle of the quad.”

Hope sat up, his claws digging into her right shoulder. He lifted a wing and placed it—gently for him—across one eye.

15

Killian was, as Mandoran said, standing in the quad. Students also occupied the benches and the stretches of flat grass closest to the trees; the sun had begun its rise, but hadn’t fully crested the horizon, and Killian seemed to stand framed by the rising sun, as if the buildings that should have blocked it were simple mirages.

But the people in the quad weren’t.

Kaylin wasn’t. Hope was tense, which was never a good sign. “Let’s jog,” she told her companions; Severn had already picked up the pace.

Killian stood, arms by his sides, as if he were a statue; he only moved when they were perhaps ten yards away. His eyes were completely black; Kaylin was certain there were small flecks of iridescent color in that darkness, but at this distance they couldn’t be seen.

When she reached Killian’s side, he nodded. “I apologize for my appearance,” he said, glancing briefly at Hope.

“Has something gone wrong? Is there trouble at the Academia?”

“There is, as yet, no trouble at the Academia.”

“Then why are you standing here?”

“I was told to wait for you. The chancellor mentioned that Corporal Handred would be accompanying you; he did not mention Lord Emmerian or Mandoran.”

“Should they not be here?”

“I am certain he will accept Lord Emmerian without reservation. Mandoran’s presence is not necessary; Serralyn will be present.”

“Will it be unacceptable?” Mandoran asked.

Killian didn’t breathe, so he didn’t have to exhale; the exhalation was an affectation. “Come.” He gestured. “The students will not see you as you traverse the halls.”

The chancellor was in his office; he was pacing, hands behind his back, as the door vanished at Killian’s command. His eyes were an unfortunate shade of orange—dark enough to be mistaken for red in poor lighting.

“Don’t stand there gaping, come in. Quickly.”

Serralyn wasn’t in the office.

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