forgotten to breathe. Which was unfortunate, because Moran turned to the Barrani Hawk for the first time since they’d entered the room. “When did you let Private Neya speak with the Emperor? It was agreed—” She stopped abruptly, shaking her head. “Apparently the private isn’t the only one who’s forgetting herself. I’m going to pretend I never heard you say that—and you’re going to pretend you never said it. Records,” she added, speaking to the flat and nascent mirror, “note. Personal Records: infirmary.”
“My current home is Helen. She’s like the Tower in Tiamaris. She’s not as strong, and she’s not as aware of events that occur outside of her grounds—or walls, I’m not entirely certain. Inside her walls, she’s got the same control over architecture that Tara has: she can make and change whole rooms, stairs, ceilings, floors—you name it. I wasn’t lying about the aperture in the tower—we used it to join the battle outside the High Halls.
“I don’t want you to live in the infirmary. One: I was told it was almost illegal, and I want to believe that everyone has to live by the same rules. Two: it’s not a home. You never get to leave your place of work. Everything frustrating about it—and having seen some of your patients, I can’t believe there’s no frustration—is around you all the time.
“If you’re here because you won’t take a leave of absence—and I get that because I couldn’t afford to lose more than a week’s pay myself—”
Teela cleared her throat.
Kaylin forged ahead. “—then the Hawks are grateful. You’re scary—but anyone who wasn’t couldn’t be in charge here. People obey you instinctively. They obey you when you give orders.”
“Or when I tell them to get the hell out of my infirmary?”
Kaylin reddened, but plunged on. “I know Aerians don’t live in normal houses. I know the Aerie is nothing like any of the rooms we’ve seen in Helen so far. But Helen can make quarters that will at least be comfortable for you. It’s not far from the Halls, and there’s nothing wrong with your legs. If you’re likely to face assassins while walking to work, it’s not more of a risk than you probably faced while flying in.”
“Kaylin—no.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want—”
“I’m not at risk, Moran!” Kaylin was almost surprised at the strength of her emotional response—an emotion she was trying very hard to name.
Her efforts, as they often were when she felt too strongly about something, were apparently wasted. Moran’s eyes shifted back to gray, though. “Kitling,” she said—a word she seldom used with Kaylin, “—it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”
“I’ve never had much,” Kaylin said, in a lower tone. “When I came here—when the Hawklord chose not to—” She swallowed. “I had the clothing on my back and the gear I’d used to scale the Tower. I had my weapons. I didn’t have a coin in my pocket. I didn’t have a home of my own.
“Not everyone loved me. Not everyone liked me. One or two people were offended by my very presence. But most of the Hawks were at least neutral, and some of them were even friendly. Caitlin helped me find a place of my own. I didn’t have the money to pay for it, so the Hawks did.”
“That came out of a very specific budget, I recall.”
“Yes. The mascot budget. Which was embarrassing, but—people helped me. When I needed help, they gave it.”
“I do not need help.”
“No?” Kaylin forced her hands to relax, because she had balled them into fists. “I know you won’t die without it. But you know what? I wouldn’t have died, either. I knew how to survive. This is the first time in my life I’ve been able to offer to help. To pay back to the Hawks what was given to me.”
“Kitling.” Teela’s use of the word was so common it might have been Kaylin’s actual name. She slid an arm around Kaylin’s shoulders. “Your age is showing.” When Kaylin failed to reply, Teela added, “No one helped you out because we wanted to humiliate you—if I recall the early days, you did that quite effectively on your own.”
“Thanks a lot, Teela.”
“No one helped you with the expectation that you would owe us, or be obligated to us, in future. Any kindness done to you in the past is not an obligation you must carry with you until you can—somewhat forcefully, I feel—discharge it.”
“It’s not really that,” Kaylin said, looking at her feet. “It’s just—I never had much. I have things now. The Hawks are the only family I have. Moran, you’re a Hawk.” She lifted her chin. “You’re like a terrifying aunt or older sister. Not Barrani-scary—if you’re angry at me, I know I deserve it.”
Teela cleared her throat.
“But I feel like—I feel—” She stopped. “I know this is not really about me.”
“But?” Moran unexpectedly prompted.
“I feel like somehow, still, after years of being a Hawk, and working hard, and becoming an adult—I feel like I’m not grown-up enough, or not good enough, to be allowed to help you.”
“Ugh,” Moran replied. “It has nothing to do with that. It’s not about you, you’re right. I just don’t want to involve you in my personal affairs.”
“And if Teela had offered?”
“I don’t want to involve me in Teela’s personal affairs.”
Kaylin laughed. “I don’t have much choice.”
“You really don’t,” Teela agreed. “The perils of joining the force as a minor, even as a mascot.”
“We can drop the mascot bit anytime now.”
“Kids,” Moran said. “You can have the rest of that particular discussion in the hall. I’ve heard it enough to know there’s nothing new for an audience in it.” They remained silent, and she looked down at the desk, where the familiar was still expectantly perched. “This is irresponsible,” she continued.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Kaylin told her. “But—come with me when you’re off shift? You can meet Helen. You can see where I live—and where everyone else lives, if they’re okay with that. You can decide then.”
“Fine. Fine, I’ll visit.”
Kaylin wanted to cheer. “Now?”
Moran sighed. “I suppose we might as well get it over with.”
* * *
“You’re expected at the library,” Teela reminded her quietly as they exited the infirmary.
“I know,” Kaylin replied.
“Kitling—”
“She’ll change her mind. If we don’t get her home, she’ll change her mind. I can talk to
