he replied.
Her hands found her hips as she looked up at her favorite Aerian. “Laws of exemption apply to legal consequences. They don’t govern answering bloody questions!”
“Kitling, the human Caste Court isn’t the Aerian Caste Court. They exert different powers. The human Caste Court might as well call itself the ‘Order of Merchants with Jumped-Up Titles and Pretensions’ for all the difference it makes to anyone who isn’t the Emperor. Do you know what happens to outcaste humans?”
Kaylin frowned. “What do you mean, what happens?”
“Are you, that you know of, outcaste?”
“No.” She paused. “I don’t think so.”
“Exactly. The human Caste Court doesn’t give a damn about you. As far as I can tell, they don’t give a damn about humans in general, except the rich or powerful ones. You don’t give a damn about them—you probably can’t name the members that constitute the Caste Court.”
“It’s not relevant to my life or my work,” she said, sounding defensive, hating it and unable to stop. She’d never liked being called stupid, even by implication, and while she’d made strides in her response, the feeling never completely vanished.
“No, it’s not,” Clint replied, his voice gentling. He’d known her for years. “You’re a Hawk. You’re a human. There’s no point in learning all of this crap because it doesn’t make a difference to either your life or your work. But, kitling, the Aerian Caste Court isn’t the human one.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before.”
“It’s never been relevant. If Moran weren’t a Hawk, it wouldn’t be relevant. There’s a reason she’s in charge of the infirmary.”
“Because she’s terrifying?”
He winced, giving in for a moment to amusement. It died fairly quickly. “Other than that. Do you know what happens to outcaste Aerians?”
She didn’t. She shook her head. “Was it covered in racial integration classes?”
“No. The human Caste Court adopted many of the practices of the Barrani Caste Court. They adopted many of the same attitudes and the same pretensions. If Barrani are made outcaste, and they are powerful, they are simply shunned.
“But the Aerian Caste Court adopted many of the practices of the Dragons. Do you know what happens to outcaste Dragons?”
“They die. Unless they fly into Ravellon.”
“Yes. It is the duty of each and every Dragon to exterminate the outcaste.”
“Well, yes—now. There’s only one remaining flight, and its boss happens to be the Eternal Emperor.”
“The Aerian Caste Court is far crueler, in my opinion, than the Dragon Court.”
Kaylin almost gaped, and pressed her mouth into a tighter line to stop that. “What happens to outcaste Aerians?” She had never asked. It had never occurred to her that it would be relevant, and—damn Teela, anyway—she had never truly imagined that an Aerian could be outcaste.
“They cut off our wings and abandon us on the ground.”
She stared at him. “Cut off your wings.”
“Yes.”
“Your wings.”
“Yes.” He looked down at her, some of the harshness leaving his expression.
“But Moran—”
“The sergeant will never be made outcaste.”
“So...they’ll just murder her instead.”
“Yes.”
“Clint, I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“No. But, Kaylin—you have a knack for kicking the hornet’s nest, even when you can’t see it. Look, I’ve known you since you were a kid. I know that you’ll only kick the nest when you’re in a big hurry to help someone; you probably won’t see it until there are swarms of angry insects buzzing around your face. I can ask you not to get involved.” His acute stare made it clear that he already had. “What I need you to understand, in this, is that the hornets aren’t going to sting you.
“If you kick this nest, they’re going to sting Aerians. In the worst cases, we won’t get welts. We’ll lose our lives in every meaningful sense. And yes, before you ask, mutilation is covered by the racial laws of exemption as long as both the involved parties are Aerian. The only person—the only person—who can safely discuss this with you is Moran. Ask me, ask anyone else, and get any answer...” He trailed off, his meaning clear.
“I can’t even look at the attack site?”
“No. The exemption has been granted.”
* * *
There were no more detours on the way to Elani.
Mandoran’s eyes were a restless green with hints of blue when he turned to Kaylin. “He’s wrong about the Barrani Court. In theory, it is the duty of Barrani Lords to kill the outcaste.”
“Nightshade,” was her flat reply.
“We’re a pragmatic people.”
“You invented freaking table manners, I swear. How is that pragmatic? Using utensils I get, but why do we need five forks?” Kaylin had to force herself not to march.
“It’s almost never five.” More seriously, he continued, “We’re pragmatic. Only when politics are heavily involved does it become trickier.”
“Meaning?”
“If the High Lord wished to rid himself of a particularly fractious member of his Court, he would order that lord to destroy the outcaste in question—let’s use Nightshade as our example. If the fractious lord doesn’t wish to become outcaste on a flimsy technicality, he has only one choice. He must attempt to destroy Nightshade.” Mandoran’s tone made clear how unsuccessful this theoretical lord would be.
“So...don’t tick off the High Lord.”
“That’s always good advice. Nightshade has survived all prior attempts on his life, and he is considered a favorite, in spite of his status, with the Lady. And now you’ve distracted me.”
“You were doing most of the talking.”
“True. What I meant was, if the High Lord were intent on the destruction of a Barrani Lord, that lord would die. Period.”
“Clint’s not wrong. That wasn’t what he was saying.”
“No? I admit Teela doesn’t have all that much information about him, at least that she’s willing to share.”
“He’s telling me that my interference could cost him his wings. His literal wings. Because the
