shook herself. Severn was watching—inasmuch as he could, given the rough ride.
“The fiefs,” he said. Not a question.
She swallowed and nodded. The years stretched out between them. Death was there, as well. In the end, Severn looked away—but he had to; the carriage had tipped again.
There was so much she wanted to know. And so much she was afraid to ask. She’d never been good with words at times like these; they were awkward instead of profound, and they were almost always barbed.
Instead, she tried not to lose the food she hadn’t had.
“Remind me,” he said when the carriage began to slow, “never to let Teela drive again.”
She tried to smile. “As if,” she told him, “you’ll need a reminder.” Her legs felt like liquid.
He had the grace not to ask her how she was; he had the sense not to ask her if she would be all right. But as the carriage came to a halt in front of tall, stone pillars carved in the likeness of a Barrani Lord and Lady, he opened the door that was nearest him. He slid out, dragging his feet a few steps, and then righted himself.
She closed her eyes.
His hand touched her arm. “Kaylin,” he said quietly. “Come.”
She nodded, biting her lip as she opened her eyes and met his gaze. The pillars were perfect in every aspect; Barrani writ large, like monumental gods, the falling folds of their robes embroidered with veins of gold and precious stones. They dwarfed her. They made her feel ungainly, short, squat—and very, very underdressed.
But Severn wasn’t Barrani. He didn’t notice.
He offered her the stability of his arm and his shoulder, and she let him. The sun cast his shadow across her like a bower.
Teela jumped down from the driver’s seat, and rearranged the fall of her emerald skirts until the gold there caught light and reflected it, suggesting forest floor; the skirts were wide and long, far too long for someone Kaylin’s height.
Teela spoke a few words to the horses, low words that had some of the sound of Barrani in them, but none of the actual words. The horses, foaming, quieted. Their nostrils were wide enough to fit fists in.
“Don’t speak,” Teela told Kaylin quietly as she left the horses and approached. She didn’t seem to feel the need to offer the same warning to Severn.
Kaylin nodded. Speech, given the state of her stomach, was not something to which she aspired. She took a few hesitant steps, and mindful of the facade of the building that was recessed behind those columns, stopped. She had once seen a cathedral that was smaller than this. It had been rounder; the Barrani building favored flat surfaces, rather than obvious domes. But it was, to her eye, a single piece of stone, and trellises with startling purple flowers trailed down its face. A fountain stood between two open archways, and water trickled from the stone curve of an artfully held vase. The statue that carried the vase seemed a perfect alabaster woman, half-naked, her feet immersed.
She looked almost lifelike.
And Kaylin had seen statues come to life before, in the halls of Castle Nightshade.
“Kaylin,” Teela said, the syllables like little stilettos, “what are you doing?”
“Staring,” she murmured. Half-afraid, now that she was here. It was almost like being in a foreign country. She had never ventured to this part of Elantra before. Would not, in fact, have been given permission to come had she begged on hands and knees.
Standing here, she knew why; she did not belong on this path. Unnoticed until that thought, she looked at what lay beneath her feet. She had thought it stone, but could see now that it was softer than that. Like moss, like something too perfect to be grass, it did not take the impression of her heavy—and scuffed—boots.
Teela jabbed her ribs. “We don’t have time,” she whispered. It was the most Teela-like thing she’d done since Kaylin entered the Hawklord’s tower, and the familiarity of the annoyed gesture was comforting. And painful; the Barrani had bony hands.
She swallowed and nodded, and Teela, grabbing her by the hand, began to stride toward the left arch.
It was work just to keep up. Kaylin stumbled. Her legs still hadn’t recovered from the ride. But she had just enough dignity that she managed to trot alongside the taller Barrani noble. Severn walked by her side with ease and a quiet caution that spoke of danger.
She noticed, then, that he wore a length of chain wrapped round his waist, the blade at one end tucked out of sight. He had not unwound it, of course; he wasn’t a fool. There were no obvious guards at either arch, no obvious observers, but Kaylin had a suspicion that Teela would have taken it upon herself to break his arms if he tried.
Kaylin wanted to marvel at the architecture, and buildings rarely had that effect on her. She wanted to see Aerians sweeping the heights above, and Leontines prowling around the pillars that were placed beneath those heights, as if they held up not only ceiling but sky. She wanted to stop a moment to look at—to touch—the plants that grew up from the stone, as if stone were mooring.
But she did none of these things. Beauty was a luxury. Time was a luxury. She was used to living without.
A large hall—everything was large, as if this were designed for giants—opened up to the right. Teela, cursing in Elantran, walked faster. Kaylin’s feet skipped above the ground as she dangled.
She saw her reflection in marble, and again in glass; she saw her reflection in gold and silver, all of them distorted ghosts. She couldn’t help herself; Teela kept her moving, regardless.
There were candles above which flames danced; nothing melted. There were pools of still water, and the brilliant hue of small fish added startling life to their clarity. Too much to see.
And then there were doors, not arches, and the doors were tall. There were two, and each bore a symbol.
Her natural dislike of magic asserted itself as Teela let her go. But Teela stepped forward, and Teela placed her palms flat against the symbols. The doors swung wide, and without looking, Teela grabbed Kaylin and dragged her across the threshold.
She didn’t even see the doors swing shut. She saw Severn skirt them as they moved, that was all. She had scant time to notice the room they’d entered.
It was an antechamber of some sort. There were chairs in it, if that was even the right word. They seemed more like trees, to Kaylin’s untutored eyes, and branches rose up from their base, twisting and bearing bright fruit.
These, Teela passed.
They had walked a city block, or two, in Kaylin’s estimation; everything was sparse and empty.
The chamber passed by, and they entered one long hall. This was older stone, and harsher. It was rough. There were no plants here, and no flowers, no gilded mirrors and no pools. Weapons adorned the walls instead; weapons and torch sconces of gleaming brass.
But the weapons were fine, and their hilts were jeweled. If the gems were cold, they added the fire of color to the hall itself. “Don’t touch anything,” Teela said in curt Elantran.
At
