Cast In Courtlight by Michelle Sagara Page A

unteachable, or unstable, no one else will take him.”
    “Because he’s dead?”
    Again, the Dragon was silent.
    “In your case,” Sanabalis continued smoothly, after the momentary silence, “you could have offended a full quarter of the Magi before you reached me. But because of the unusual nature of your talents, that was not considered a viable option.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a candle.
    She wilted visibly.
    “This is like, very like, Barrani,” he told her as he set the candle on a thin base and placed it exactly between them. “If you fail to learn it, you lose the Hawks.”
    “And my life.”
    “I am not convinced that they are not one and the same. I will take you,” he added quietly. “If you are wearing your bracer, you may remove it.”
    Kaylin froze. Well, everything about her did but her eyes; they flicked nervously down to her wrist. Which was just wrist. The artifact, golden and jeweled, that could somehow dampen all of her magical abilities? Not there. She had a good idea where it actually was, too. “I’m not wearing it.”
    A pale brow rose. “I believe the Emperor’s orders in that regard were quite clear.”
    She swallowed. Being in trouble was something that she lived with; she always was. Getting the Hawklord into
Imperial
trouble was something she would almost die to avoid.
    And Sanabalis was
good;
he didn’t even make the threat. She would have to watch herself around him, inasmuch as that was possible.
    “I had to take it off,” she told him, swallowing. “Last night.” It wasn’t technically true, but it would have to do.
    “Ah. The midwives?” His eyes were gold; one brow was slightly above the other, but he chose to accept her words at face value.”
    They called me in. I can’t do
anything
when I’m wearing that bracer. I certainly can’t deliver a baby that’s – ”
    He lifted his hands. “I am squeamish by nature, I would prefer you leave the feminine nature of your nocturnal activities unspoken.”
    She wanted to ask him to define squeamish, but thought better of it.
    “Where is it now?”
    “At home.”
    “Whose home?”
    She cursed. “Is there anything about me you didn’t ‘investigate’?”
    “No.”
    And sighed, a deep, short sound that resembled a grunt. “Severn’s. Corporal.”
    He nodded. “Very good. Get it back. I will overlook its absence, since you wouldn’t be wearing it during these lessons anyway.” He paused. His eyes were still liquid gold, and his expression had never wavered; there was some deep sympathy lurking in the folds of his face that she didn’t understand.
    And she wanted it.
    “Lord Grammayre has been very cooperative, he has aided me in every conceivable way in my investigations. I believe he would like you to survive these trials. Inasmuch as the Lord of Hawks can afford to be, he is fond of you. And inasmuch as it is wise, he does trust you.”
    And you, old man?
she thought, staring at the candle that was unremarkable in every way. Dull, white, mostly straight, with a small waxed wick, it stood in the center of the table.
    “Not yet,” he replied. “And if you wish to keep your thoughts to yourself, you will learn to school your expression. I’m old, and given to neither sentiment nor tact. If I trust you, in the end, it will because you’ve earned it.
    “And I understand you, Kaylin Neya. You value nothing that you have not earned. You want it, covet it, hold it in some regard – but you don’t value it.” His face lost its perpetual smile, and his lower lids fell, exposing his eyes again. “Begin with the shape of fire,” he told her quietly.
    What the hell shape did fire have, after all?
    It was going to be a
long
lesson.
    Or it should have been.
    But the West Room had a door, and when the door swung wide, Kaylin jumped out of her chair. Literally. She had a dagger out of its sheath, and she was moving to put the table between herself and whatever it was that had
slammed
that door