Chapter 01

01

"Kaylin. Kaylin. It is time to wake up." Light flooded the room as curtains were drawn back. Kaylin had spent most of the evening, and much of the very early morning hours, with the midwives' guild on an emergency call. She—sensibly—pulled the blankets over her head.

Hope squawked; he'd spent most of the same time on her shoulder. He didn't pull the blankets over his head given his claws and the lack of opposable thumbs, but he did make clear that he wasn't interested in becoming more mobile yet.

"Kaylin, Imelda is making breakfast, it is almost ready, and she is expecting Lord Sanabalis to join us."

Us. Ugh.

"It is time to wake up."

Hope could sleep on Kaylin's shoulders; once she'd picked him up and put him there, he didn't have to move. He could grumble in his sleep—and was—but all movement was supplied by Kaylin, his theoretical master.

Hope snorted.

Kaylin had managed to dress, although she'd had to redo buttons because the first attempt didn't match buttons with the correct buttonholes. She could hear Mrs. Erickson humming as she made her way down the stairs.

Mrs. Erickson was a hummer. Sometimes, she was a singer. She was a force of cheer and delight. Kaylin didn't want cheer and delight first thing in the morning.

"Why is Sanabalis visiting?" she asked Helen. "He's not supposed to check in for a couple more days."

"You will have to ask him," Helen's disembodied voice replied. Her Avatar must be with Mrs. Erickson. "I'm making a few adjustments to the kitchen. Imelda is the only one who actually uses it and I'd like to accommodate her needs."

"Did you wake up any of the cohort?"

"No. They don't require sleep. Mandoran is, however, in the kitchen with Imelda."

"Terrano?"

"He doesn't like to eat first thing in the morning, or so he says. But yes, he's in the kitchen as well."

"Did you tell either of them that Sanabalis is coming to visit?"

"Lord Sanabalis, or rather the Arkon, considering his new title. And no. Imelda did. Neither have chosen to flee."

Kaylin grimaced as she headed toward the front door. "He's here?"

"He is almost at the door," Helen replied.

"I don't suppose you could just answer it and let him in?" It was a rhetorical question. Helen could answer the door, but she preferred Kaylin, as the chief resident, perform that duty. Kaylin didn't understand why it was considered good manners, but understood that in Helen's mind, it was.

She therefore opened the door when Sanabalis knocked.

Sanabalis, being a Dragon, had eyes that shifted color depending on his mood. His current mood was orange with flecks of red, which was the outer edge of Dragon-safety color. Or rather, normal people's safety when confronted with Dragons. She froze when she met his gaze, and then got out of the way in a hurry, remembering to mutter a please come in as she did.

Hope remained flopped across her shoulders. If Sanabalis—ugh, if the Arkon —was angry, her familiar didn't think he was angry at Kaylin.

Helen's Avatar appeared in the foyer. "Arkon, we are pleased to invite you into our home. Mrs. Erickson has been in the kitchen all morning in anticipation of your visit." When Sanabalis opened his mouth, Helen added, "She insisted."

There was a hint of warning in the two words; Sanabalis raised a single brow before offering Helen the nod he hadn't bothered to offer Kaylin. "I am certain I will find it delightful."

"She is aware that Dragons don't necessarily eat what the rest of us eat?" Kaylin asked.

Helen smiled and failed to answer the question. "If you would join us in the dining room," the Avatar said to the Dragon, "we would be pleased."

The dining room was fancier than the usual gathering space used when the cohort chose to saunter their way down the stairs; the chairs were larger, and the tablecloth was lace; the plates were far fancier, as was the silverware—which was actually silver, at least by look.

Helen, not trusting Kaylin completely, ushered Sanabalis to his chair. Kaylin glanced around, intending to take the chair farthest from the Dragon. Sadly, that chair was already occupied by Terrano. Mandoran was seated closer to the Dragon, but Mandoran's experience living with Bellusdeo had made Dragons less intimidating to him. Probably.

Both Terrano and Mandoran were blue-eyed, which was natural given the presence of the new Arkon. Kaylin's eyes would have probably been a different color as well, if human eyes shifted the way most other races' did. She exhaled and took the chair to Sanabalis's right.

His eyes had lost the red flecks, but not the rest of the orange; she knew because he was staring in her direction. He hadn't come here to see Mrs. Erickson. He'd come to grill Kaylin about something.

She really wanted to skip breakfast and head to the Halls of Law early. Helen, however, did not approve of skipping breakfast, and Kaylin didn't need a lecture about the importance of the morning meal while a member of the Dragon Court was in attendance. She therefore had no easy escape route.

Mrs. Erickson came into the dining room, still wearing the apron she wore when she worked in the kitchen. She was carrying a large tray. Mandoran rose instantly to retrieve said tray. Mrs. Erickson beamed at him; she then removed the apron and hung it over the back of her chair. Helen caused it to vanish.

Mandoran set the tray where Helen indicated it should go—which was not on the table itself. It was on a small side table Helen had materialized for just that purpose. Helen then held Mrs. Erickson's chair out, and Mrs. Erickson sat. Mandoran returned to his own chair, his eyes less dark a blue.

Mrs. Erickson was a hard person to fear or dislike, as both Mandoran and Terrano proved. Annarion liked her. Sedarias liked her. The rest of the cohort largely kept to themselves, but over the past two weeks—the entirety of Mrs. Erickson's tenancy—Allaron had joined her in the kitchen as well.

The kitchen was Mrs. Erickson's happy place. She had always baked for the Hawks at the public desk in the Halls of Law, and she'd expanded that baking almost the minute she'd moved in. She liked to feed people.

Her former housemates, being ghosts, couldn't eat. Her current housemates could. And Mrs. Erickson was, in Kaylin's admittedly pedestrian opinion, an excellent baker. Today's breakfast, while not sweet, showcased that baking: pastry that contained breakfast-oriented meats and vegetables. Helen chose to serve.

Clearly this had been discussed before Mrs. Erickson entered the dining room, because Mrs. Erickson didn't jump up from her seat in a rush to be helpful. She looked like she wanted to, though.

Breakfast was not exactly a friendly, relaxed affair.

Kaylin ate quickly—she always did. Helen hated it when she talked with her mouth full, and arguments about what constituted full had never worked out in Kaylin's favor. As Sanabalis was two days early and most of his attention was on Kaylin, she wanted a mostly empty mouth.

Hope squawked.

Sanabalis exhaled a small stream of smoke. "My apologies for dropping in with little notice. Have you perhaps seen Lord Emmerian in the past week?"

Not the question Kaylin had been expecting. Given the presence of Mrs. Erickson's other ghosts, most of Sanabalis's concerns involved the dead. Emmerian wasn't dead, to Kaylin's knowledge; he wasn't close.

She blinked. "No, I haven't. Helen?"

"He has not visited in the past week, no."

"Why are you asking?"

Sanabalis exhaled more smoke, but notably no fire given the state of the food on his plate. "He has removed himself to Lord Bellusdeo's Tower, which was expected. He has failed to appear at the regular meeting of the Dragon Court, which was not. Lannagaros has attended all relevant meetings, and his duties to the Academia make him somewhat testy when present." A brief glimmer of a smile touched the new Arkon's face. "It does keep the meetings somewhat shorter."

"Can you not communicate with Emmerian while he's in the Tower?"

"Towers, very much like Helen, dislike the mirror network; they all feel it presents a security risk they are unwilling to take. Given the subtle nature of Shadow, this is acceptable to the Emperor. Lord Emmerian has many other avenues to avail himself of the network, none of which have been used.

"He has been seen in the air above the fief of Bellusdeo, alongside Lord Bellusdeo herself." He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We are grateful that races outside of our own do not fully understand the Dragon tongue. Were it not for the appearance of a third Dragon, their argument might have continued."

"Third Dragon?"

"Lannagaros believes it to be the Avatar of Bellusdeo's Tower."

Karriamis. That would make some sense.

"The Avatar intervened, and the argument—such as it was—retreated to a more private environment."

"The Tower itself."

"That is our assumption, yes. Lord Emmerian, however, has not yet emerged from that Tower."

"And Bellusdeo?"

Sanabalis didn't answer. It was the wrong kind of nonanswer.

Kaylin folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, tilting it onto two legs. "What's happening with Bellusdeo?"

"We are uncertain," the Arkon said. His gaze dropped to his hands, which were now folded on the table.

Hope squawked.

"Yes," Sanabalis replied. "That is the reason I chose to visit today, with little warning." He exhaled smoke for a third time before lifting his head. "Bellusdeo left her Tower—and her fief—and we believe she is coming to visit you."

"I won't be here—I have work."

"I have spoken with your extremely territorial and irritable sergeant; your work, today, will not involve your usual beat. You will, however, be paid."

"And my work, according to you, is?"

"Simply listen to Bellusdeo, and if at all possible, calm her or divert her attention from whatever it is that has her on the edge of rage."

Kaylin exhaled. "Dragons live forever, right?"

"Demonstrably not, but yes, we are Immortal."

"Could you just shelve this whole make babies thing for a few decades?" Or centuries. "She understands why it's essential for the race as a whole, but she never intended to bear children. She's accepted the responsibility—but not well. Emmerian is in the line of fire because he's the least unacceptable father candidate, but that doesn't mean she's happy about it.

"Could you just...wait until she truly accepts the need?"

"That advice has been given by Lannagaros," Sanabalis replied, his tone neutral. "But if that were her intent, taking the Tower she took was unwise in the extreme. The heart of her Tower is—was—a Dragon. I do not believe that he is content to, as you put it, wait."

"She's the lord of the Tower."

"Indeed."

"She gets to make that decision."

"That is the theory, yes. Her Tower cannot force her to do anything she does not desire to do. But her Tower cannot be rendered voiceless, to my knowledge. Karriamis is, no doubt, making his opinion quite clear. I am willing to abide by Lannagaros's advice. Others are ambivalent."

Others had to be referring to the Emperor. Emmerian knew better than to try to force Bellusdeo's hand. No, that was unfair. What he loved about Bellusdeo was what she was, who she was. He would accept her decision. The former Arkon had always pushed for patience and for a similar acceptance because he'd known Bellusdeo and her sisters as the children they had been in the Aerie. Sanabalis was neutral. Tiamaris, the youngest of the Dragon Lords, was likely neutral as well.

That only left the Emperor.

Kaylin exhaled. "I can't force Bellusdeo to do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Of course not. But Lannagaros feels Bellusdeo lacks friends. She has her Ascendant, but Lannagaros feels the Ascendant is liege, not friend. She will come to visit; she is on the way here as we speak. I apologize in advance for her temper." He rose. "I would like to see myself out before she arrives; she will not be best pleased to see me."

"You come to visit Mrs. Erickson regularly."

Sanabalis nodded. "How much of a difference do you think that will make to her in her current mood?"

None. None at all. Bellusdeo hadn't even met Mrs. Erickson. And using the old woman as an excuse left a bad taste in Kaylin's mouth.

"Should I go back to my room? I can visit with our new ghosts while you speak with your friend," Mrs. Erickson said, rising as well. She looked concerned but not nervous; having Sanabalis as a visiting guest had done much to alleviate any possible fear she could have of Dragons. Sanabalis, however, rarely lost his temper. The same couldn't be said of Bellusdeo.

"I don't think that's necessary," Helen told Mrs. Erickson. "Bellusdeo has more of a temper than the Arkon, but she has never once unleashed it around people who could not survive it. I am certain she will be fine."

Kaylin was certain Mrs. Erickson would be fine as well. Helen could prevent injuries when her various guests exited the self-control ramp.

"If you wish to depart," Helen said, turning to Sanabalis, "I will have to ask you to take the Tower exit. Bellusdeo has reached the perimeter of my space."

Sanabalis's shoulders slumped. "No, I will stay. I will not be seen scurrying up the stairs like a terrified hatchling."

Bellusdeo knocked on the front door, which did a disservice to the word knock . Kaylin had exited the dining room in a hurry, in order to head off her former roommate before she reached anyone else. Helen approved of this. Sanabalis remained in the dining room with Terrano and Mandoran, although Mandoran came to the dining room door.

Most of the cohort weren't keen on Dragons. They felt they owed a debt to Bellusdeo, but that debt amounted to cautious tolerance. Mandoran, however, genuinely liked Bellusdeo. Teela liked her. Terrano had warmed up a lot.

Angry Bellusdeo, however, was still intimidating, so it made good sense to try to avoid her.

Hope had pulled himself out of his lazy, wet-blanket slump across Kaylin's shoulders, and stood, wings folded, on the right one as Helen opened the door.

Kaylin got a face full of red-eyed, furious Dragon. It was almost a surprise when Bellusdeo opened her mouth and didn't roar in her native tongue. Or breathe fire.

"What happened?" Kaylin asked, as she moved toward the angry Dragon.

"Karriamis," Bellusdeo snarled, a little bit of fire framing the name she spit out. At least it wasn't Emmerian. "Karriamis is the heart of a Tower—his concern is supposed to be Shadow!"

"Karriamis is—or was—a Dragon, dear," Helen said, voice gentle. "But you are the captain of the Tower."

Bellusdeo's eyes didn't get any less red as she turned to Helen, whose expression was apologetic—but firm.

"I am the heart of this house," Helen continued. "I keep my tenants safe. I guard my perimeters. I was not created with the ability to choose my tenants—the Towers were. But I made some alterations, and I can choose now. Kaylin is my tenant. In theory, her role in my life is similar to your role in Karriamis's life. But we certainly disagree about some things. If it were up to Kaylin, she would wake up in the morning in just enough time to run out of the house in a panic.

"I believe breakfast is an important meal; I wake her and she eats breakfast. She could order me to stop."

"And you'd obey?" Bellusdeo asked, a hairsbreadth before Kaylin could.

Helen's smile was sweetness itself—and it was her only answer. No, of course she wouldn't obey.

"My dear, if Kaylin truly commanded me, I would have no choice. It is the same with Karriamis and Bellusdeo—but he is cunning. He, as I, will do everything within his limited power to maintain control over himself. In my case, I simply chose the right tenant. And in his, he chose the right lord."

Helen's Avatar froze, her eyes becoming obsidian spheres as they did when something demanded too much of her attention.

"Imelda?" Helen said, her voice sharper, harsher than her intent. She turned from Bellusdeo and the conversation they'd been having as if both were irrelevant, her eyes going to the dining room's door.

Mrs. Erickson stood in its frame. At her back, close enough to grab her and drag her to safety if necessary, was Mandoran. Terrano stepped through both Mandoran and Mrs. Erickson to stand in the hall. His eyes were blue, and they'd become larger than the Barrani physical norm. Sanabalis, Kaylin couldn't see, but maybe he thought it beneath his dignity to crowd around the door when there was no chance he could walk through it.

"Imelda, what's happened, what's wrong?" Helen moved toward the old woman who was clutching the frame of the door, as if it was necessary to support her very slight weight.

Kaylin had turned as well and froze.

Mrs. Erickson was crying.

Bellusdeo's eyes shifted color, darkening. Whatever had frustrated her so much that she'd stormed her way to Helen was set aside; she knew what the color of Helen's eyes meant. Danger. Fear.

Terrano stepped into the hall to allow Mrs. Erickson to enter it; she didn't. Her arm trembled and her tears continued to fall. Only when Mandoran gently caught her lifted arm, prying her fingers from the doorframe and offering the physical support the frame had provided, did she move.

She was staring at Bellusdeo. Her gaze never left the gold Dragon.

It was enormously awkward to attempt to introduce the former roommate to the current one, given the circumstances. Kaylin had been—and still was—certain that Bellusdeo would like Mrs. Erickson, but the weeping changed the nature of their first meeting. Instead of being polite and comfortable, it was raw and uncomfortable.

Bellusdeo didn't shed tears in public. Tears left other people feeling helpless—like they should be able to do something, but had no idea what, and anything they tried might make things worse, not better.

Kaylin understood this, because she felt that way herself.

Mrs. Erickson attempted to get her tears under control, and mostly failed.

"Imelda?" Helen approached Mrs. Erickson, glancing at Mandoran, whose arm was around the old woman's shoulders.

Mrs. Erickson shook her head. "I'm sorry," she finally managed to say. It took her three tries. She lifted a hand and attempted to wipe the tears away.

"This is Bellusdeo," Kaylin said, feeling far more awkward than she should have. "She used to live with us, but she has her own home now."

The Dragon snorted.

"And, Bellusdeo, this is Mrs. Erickson. She's living with us now."

Bellusdeo nodded. Her eyes remained red, but she approached Mrs. Erickson and offered an outstretched hand.

Mrs. Erickson took it, but her grip was white-knuckled. Any normal greeting was lost to the attempt to rein in tears. Or so Kaylin assumed.

Bellusdeo's eyes had lightened; her expression was one of concern. She didn't suffer from Kaylin's discomfort in the presence of tears. Or maybe her worry for this weeping stranger was greater than the fear she could somehow make things worse.

Mrs. Erickson's hand was almost clenched as she inhaled and tried to force her shoulders from their hunch. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. The fourth time, she said, "I'm terribly sorry to be such a mess—but I must ask: Did you have sisters?"

Kaylin could see Mrs. Erickson's profile. She could see the place where the old woman's hand joined the Dragon's. But she could also see Bellusdeo clearly, and she could see the moment the orange-red of her eyes shifted into a much less normal color: copper.

This wasn't the question Bellusdeo had been expecting—if she'd expected a question at all. It wasn't the question Kaylin had been expecting, or had thought to expect.

Helen was utterly silent as well. Everyone was.

This time, it was Bellusdeo who struggled to answer. There were no visible tears, but the color of the Dragon's eyes implied their existence. "Yes. Yes, I did."

"Did they look like you?"

Bellusdeo glanced in Kaylin's direction, but it was brief. Mrs. Erickson was difficult to ignore in the best of circumstances; she was impossible to ignore now. "Yes. I had eight sisters."

"None of them survived," Mrs. Erickson said.

"No."

Helen stepped in, bracketing Mrs. Erickson on one side, as if she needed to make clear to Bellusdeo just how precious the older woman had become to the house.

Hope squawked. A lot. Kaylin lifted one hand to spare the ear closest to his mouth.

Bellusdeo had frozen at Hope's unintelligible words—words meant only for the Dragon.

She lifted her head; her grip became as tight, as desperate, as Mrs. Erickson's—which would not be good for Mrs. Erickson.

"It's all right," Helen said. "I have her. She will not be injured."

Bellusdeo didn't seem to hear Helen's words, she was so focused. "You can see the ghosts of the dead?"

Mrs. Erickson nodded, and Kaylin realized that she hadn't been staring at Bellusdeo; she'd been staring at the ghosts of the Dragon's beloved, dead sisters.

"You—you can see them? You can see my sisters?"

"I can," Mrs. Erickson answered, without the hesitance or self-consciousness that usually accompanied that confession. "It's difficult; they're all overlapping. I can only tell that you're not one of them because you're holding my hand." She exhaled and added, "They're weeping or silent. I don't think they're aware of each other."

"Are they aware of me?"

"I think so, but I can't be certain—they're not speaking."

"If they did, could you hear them?"

"She can," a new voice said. Sanabalis had finally left the dining room.

Whatever had driven Bellusdeo to visit Helen was no longer her primary concern. It was no longer a concern at all. Bellusdeo looked across the hall to the new Arkon, but the color of her eyes didn't change much; flecks of red intruded on copper, but copper remained dominant.

"I've never seen this before," Mrs. Erickson told Bellusdeo. "But they can hear me speak to you. I... I'd like to try to talk to them. Can I let go of your hand?"

Bellusdeo was the one whose grip was tightest; she released it slowly. "Yes, I'm sorry. Please try to talk to them. Please ask them..." The words trailed off. "Please do whatever you can to help them."

"I can see that you're very worried about these ghosts, and I know what that's like. But—can I ask you not to speak to me while I try to listen?"

Bellusdeo nodded mutely.

Kaylin had never seen the gold Dragon like this before.

Kaylin glanced at Sanabalis; his eyes were practically welded to Mrs. Erickson and Bellusdeo.

"You've carried them for so long," the old woman said softly. "I won't take them from you—I don't think they want to leave—but...would it be all right if they could move a bit? They're overlapping so much it's hard for me to tell them apart."

Bellusdeo's hands, resting on her thighs, were white-knuckled. Kaylin was grateful Mrs. Erickson had asked to have her hands free. "Yes," Bellusdeo said. "Give them anything they want, if it is within your power. Anything."