Cast in Honor (The Chronicles of Elantra) (38 page)

“And she was right. I mean, she was wrong, but she was right. Gilbert did need her. Or rather,
we
needed her to be with Gilbert. I think—I think he kept her as a reminder of what would otherwise be destroyed.”

“But Gilbert has not returned,” Moran said quietly.

“...No. Until he does, if he does, she’ll stay with us.”

Moran nodded.

“So you called me in here—”

“To give Kattea some time alone with a man who thinks she’s a stranger, yes.” She wrapped her arms around her upper body. “I envy her. I envy her, and I almost pity her.” She shook herself, adopting a harsher expression that was more at home in the infirmary—where it was admittedly necessary.

* * *

Kaylin rescued Corporal Krevel an hour later, and hated to do it. She watched from a distance as Kattea continued to pepper the poor man with questions. She was sitting almost unselfconsciously close to him, but she was young enough that he didn’t appear to notice.

“Kaylin!” she said, when Kaylin approached. “Corporal Krevel’s daughter has the same name as me!”

“I hope she grows up to be a tenth as lovely” was the corporal’s gallant reply.

“I’m sure she will,” Kaylin replied. She held out a hand. Kattea hesitated briefly and then took it; her grip was both shaky and strong.

Epilogue

Kaylin didn’t see Severn again until she resumed her regular duties. She tried—once—to reach him in other ways, but he was silent and withdrawn. So she paused to dump her bracer into the Ablayne on her way to her first official day back in the office and on the beat.

The duty roster was up, and she was penciled in—on her regular Elani beat—with Severn.

He made it with seconds to spare and met her eyes for the time it took to blink—which was to say, she almost missed it. The walk to Elani was beyond awkward. Kaylin had a million questions she wanted to ask, but settled on one at random.

“Where have you been?”

He glanced at her. After a long beat, in which she thought he wouldn’t answer at all, he said, “Is there a way for you to take your name back?”

She missed a beat. She didn’t miss a step. “Killing you.”

“That seems a bit extreme.”

She shrugged, fief shrug. “It’s a Barrani name. What did you expect?”

That pulled a smile across his mouth. “Nothing short of death?”

“Not that I know of, no. I’ve asked. The Barrani aren’t famously good at divesting themselves of power. Why are you asking?” But she knew. She knew then.

Squawk.

“Oh shut up, you.” She stopped walking. Severn slowed and turned; people passed by them and between them as they locked gazes.

“This is because you tried to use my name against me. When I was fighting the Arcanist.”

His gaze dropped away from hers.

“So—you’ve been
avoiding me
because of
that
?
Seriously?
”

His silence was pretty much a “yes.”

“Severn—I know you were afraid for me. But you
stopped
. You stopped before I even had a chance to fight you off. I don’t— I wasn’t angry that you tried.”

“I am.”

“Fine. You go ahead and be angry at you—but don’t take it out on me.” She stomped down the street.

He followed. “Kaylin.”

“Not speaking to you right now.”

“We’re on patrol.”

“Seriously not speaking to you right now. We don’t need to talk to patrol.”

“The last time you were in a mood, you kicked Margot’s sign over. She reported it.”

“Fine.”

“Kaylin—” Severn caught up, reached out and grabbed her arm.

She yanked it free. Stomped forward. Stopped, wheeled and almost ran into his chest. “How,” she demanded, “was that different? How was grabbing me by the arm different?”

“Kaylin—”

“I mean it! How was that any different than using my name against me?”

“You know why it’s different.”

But she didn’t, not really. “If I knew why, I
wouldn’t be asking
.”

“It’s different because when I grab your arm, you yank it back. It’s different because you have a choice, in that. It’s different because I know I can—” He stopped.

Kaylin folded her arms. “Listening,” she said, as if listening took colossal effort.

“Kaylin—I hear you all the time. If I listen. If I don’t. I hear you when I’m sleeping. I hear your worries. I hear your anger. I hear your hope. I—hear you.”

“Yes, and?”

“You have some chance of beating me in a fight if we go all out right now—if I don’t use your name to control you.”

Her arms tightened.

“All right, not a
great
chance—but better than none. When I—when I use your name, if I use it
that way
, you’ve got no chance at all. I
do not want
to lose you. I do not want you to walk senselessly to your own death. I don’t care if that’s your choice.

“But it’s been made clear to me that your choice has to count for something. My choice can’t be your life. And I—” He exhaled. “It’s— It was too hard. I don’t know that I have the self-control for this.”

“And if I trust you?”

“Do you?”

All of the past stood between them now, although they were practically touching. She looked at Severn. At his scars. At his brow, at his clear, clear eyes. They looked almost gray, an effect of the early-morning light. A hint of a smile turned the corners of his mouth, but it was a bitter smile.

“I trust you with my life,” she said and looked away.

“It’s hard enough,” he told her. “It’s hard enough without the constant...”

“Constant what? Danger?”

His laugh was low and short. “No, Kaylin. Not danger. Not magic. Not chaos. Not the possible end of the world. Ever since you left Nightshade, I’ve faced that one way or the other.” He lifted his chin, looking skyward; he slid a hand to the back of his neck. She watched the tension ease out of his jaw, although it remained in the corners of his mouth and eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Without what?” she said, in a softer voice.

“Desire.” When she failed to answer, he added, “You asked.”

She had.

“And now you’re panicking.” The rest of the tension left him then. It flooded into her instead. “I don’t want to frighten you.”

At thirteen, she would have said,
You don’t scare me
. She was old enough now that she didn’t bother with bravado. “I’m not— You’re not—” She exhaled. “I’m—”

“I know.” He lowered his hand. “I will not say I’m waiting for you. I’m not
waiting
. You’re my partner. You’re my backup. My life is in your hands.”

“Mine is in yours.”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “But you’re the only person I see when I look toward the future. That may change. It may have to change. But regardless, you’re my partner.”

“Except when you feel guilty and ignore me?”

“Except then.”

“I knew,” she said quietly.

“Because of the name?”

“Partly. I don’t want—”

He lifted a hand, pressed a finger against her open mouth. “I know. But here’s the thing: you have to know. Whether it’s yes or no. You have to know.”

She nodded. Closed her eyes. “Next time, tell me? I mean, if you feel guilty, apologize—that’s what most of us do. But don’t—don’t just disappear.”

He didn’t tell her that she knew where to find him, because that wasn’t the point. He didn’t tell her anything else, not in so many words. And the truth was: she was afraid. She was afraid of being wanted by Severn. She was afraid that she couldn’t reciprocate. She was afraid that
she could
. She was afraid that things would change.

On the one hand, she was unlikely to be able to break his jaw if she froze or panicked, and that was something.

You have to know
, Severn told her.
You have to know that this is something you want, and not because I want it. Not because what I want overwhelms what you want.

When they reached Elani Street, he knocked over Margot’s sign before Kaylin could.

* * *

Helen was waiting for Kaylin at the end of the day. She nodded at the familiar, draped across Kaylin’s shoulder.

“Have they finished?” Kaylin asked, as she removed her boots.

“I am not certain they will finish before the end of the week, if you refer to Lord Nightshade and Annarion.”

“But they’re both still alive? That’s something.”

“The only person who has lost his temper—so far—is Annarion. It has caused negligible damage.” She seemed much more relaxed than she had when Nightshade had first entered.

“I am, dear. I do not trust him where you are concerned—but he feels a very strong attachment to Annarion.”

That stung a bit, which was stupid; Kaylin let it go.

“Annarion feels a surprisingly strong attachment to
you
,” Helen continued. “So does Mandoran, but I believe Mandoran blames this on Teela. Teela—”

“Yes, I know. She still thinks of me as a child in need of protection.”

“Barrani children are not often protected in the way mortal children are,” Helen said, correcting her gently. “Bellusdeo has also had one visitor.”

“The Emperor?”

“No, dear. Lord Sanabalis.

“And Kattea has had one visitor. I am afraid,” Helen continued, voice soft, “that I have been forced to confine him. He accepts this.”

“Have you told Kattea?” Kaylin asked, looking up the stairs. In answer, Kattea appeared, clutching the rails at the height of their rise.

“Is it—is it—” The name wouldn’t leave Kattea’s mouth.

Helen smiled, although the smile was troubled.

“That’s a yes,” Kaylin said.

* * *

If they expected to be led to the parlor, they were mistaken. Helen walked to the kitchen, and from there, to the doors that led down. Kaylin had always had a particular dislike of basements, but it had definitely grown stronger in the past week or two.

The stairs, however, did not contract or expand under her feet. No doors magically popped into existence. Helen held a lamp, and the lamplight cast perfectly normal shadows.

“Did he—did he do something wrong?” Kattea asked, her voice echoing.

“Not on purpose,” Helen replied.

“Is he in a dungeon?” This was asked with less dread.

“Yes.”

Kattea’s eyes widened. She glanced up at Helen, but there was no fear in her expression; there was a little bit of wonder. Kattea had clearly never seen a dungeon before.

* * *

Whether or not Helen had transformed the hall to which the stairs led to better conform to Kattea’s bright imagination, Kaylin wasn’t certain—but the hall certainly looked like a storybook dungeon, replete with flickering torches. There was a barred gate at the end of the short hall.

Fingers were wrapped around two of those bars; they looked like mortal fingers, normal hands. But they were very clean and very unblemished, and anyway, they weren’t the thing that caught attention.

The eyes were.

Kaylin thought she would recognize those eyes anywhere, even when there were only three of them.

“Kattea,” Gilbert said. His voice echoed far more than Kattea’s had, and for longer.

“Can he come out?” Kattea asked Helen.

“Not safely, dear—I’m sorry.”

“Can I go in?”

Helen was silent.

Gilbert’s hands loosened. “Tell her,” he said.

Helen nodded. “Gilbert’s presence here is destabilizing. What the Arcanist failed to do, Gilbert might do by accident, as he is now. If he adopts the form with which he was created, he will cause no damage—but he will not be able to interact with you.”

“I told you I would come back.”

“But—but when you were here,” Kattea began. She faltered.

Helen said nothing.

“Helen, can’t you do something?” Kaylin whispered. Kattea had normal hearing, after all.

“I am doing everything I can,” Helen replied gently.

“Is it safe for Kattea? Is it safe for her to enter?”

“It will be safe for Kattea, yes.”

“What are you not saying?”

Helen exhaled. She knelt beside Kattea, whose eyes had not left the bars behind which Gilbert stood. “Gilbert is here because he promised he would return. He wants you to know that you saved this city. You saved the Swords. Because he found you, because he remained with you and because he listened to you, he could hear everyone, and everything, else. He understood how very, very little room he had to maneuver in if he did not want to destroy the anomaly in the usual way.”

“Why can’t he tell me that himself?” she asked. She was still looking at Gilbert.

Gilbert’s eyes closed.

“He wants to see you,” Helen replied. “And so, he is here.”

“Gilbert,” the girl said, shaking her clenched hand free of Kaylin’s almost numb one. She propped her hands on her hips. “What did I tell you?”

“You told me that I am lonely,” Gilbert replied.

“And
what else
?”

He smiled. “That you would never leave me alone.”

Kattea nodded.

“If you come with me, you won’t be able to visit any of the friends you’ve made here. You won’t be able to visit your parents. Or your city.”

“They’re not my parents,” Kattea replied. “They’re not my parents anymore, anyway.”

Helen, silent, waited. Kaylin frowned.

But Kattea said, “I shouldn’t be here, should I? I shouldn’t still be here.”

Gilbert did not answer.

Kaylin stared—at Helen. “Helen—”

“If I understand everything that has happened, Kattea should have been swept away when the damage was repaired,” Helen replied. “She should have ceased to exist. I am not Gilbert; I cannot speak with certainty.”

“But she
is
here,” Kaylin said.

“Yes, dear.”

“And she is
staying
here.”

“I think,” Helen said quietly, “that that decision is not yours—or mine—to make.”

“No,” Gilbert said, as if no one else had spoken. “This is not where you should be.”

“I should be in the streets of Nightshade. With the Ferals.”

He nodded.

She was afraid. Anyone with half a brain would be afraid. Kaylin started forward; Helen caught her shoulder in an iron grip.

“I should be dead.”

“If I understand events, yes,” Gilbert replied. “But...I do not want that. I can see no way in which your lack of death causes instabilities.”

“Because it doesn’t, or because you don’t want it to?”

Helen exhaled. Her grip on Kaylin’s shoulder tightened, which Kaylin would have bet was impossible; there would be bruises, later.

“What happens if I stay here?” Kattea asked quietly.

Helen said, “If you remain within the house, no material damage should be caused. You would be contained—in an entirely different way—as Mandoran and Annarion are contained.”

Helen was lying. Kaylin could tell, although she wasn’t sure what the truth was. On the surface of it, the words seemed reasonable. Even believable.

Kattea hadn’t noticed. “Will Gilbert be able to visit again if I stay here?”

“No, dear. It was very, very difficult for Gilbert to arrive here at all; I am uncertain how he did.”

But Kaylin thought she knew. A very small part of the many, many words that constituted Gilbert was of this time. It was a Barrani True Name.

Kattea turned from Gilbert behind bars to the woman who was, effectively, his dungeon. “I’d like to go in now.”

Kaylin opened her mouth. She thought Helen would break her collarbone, but she forced the words out anyway. “Kattea, you don’t need to go. You can speak to Gilbert here. Gilbert’s not human. He can’t speak with you without injuring himself or limiting himself. You don’t—you don’t belong with him.”