LITMIR.BIZ

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      Arrogant, annoyed Mandoran was probably better than grieving, morose Mandoran. Probably. On the other hand, arrogant, resentful Bellusdeo?

      * * *

      By the time they returned to the office, Mandoran and Bellusdeo were figuratively bristling; had they been Leontine, it would have been literal. Color had returned to Mandoran’s face, but it wasn’t what Kaylin would consider particularly healthy. Color had mostly left Bellusdeo’s lips, they were compressed so tightly. They had descended—ascended?—to raised voices half a dozen times; Bellusdeo apparently considered the loss of Kaylin’s home and the possible loss of Kaylin’s life almost unforgiveable. Kaylin’s attempt to point out that Mandoran had not in any way been responsible for the Arcane bomb, given he wasn’t even resident in the Empire, fell on selectively deaf ears.

      It would have worked had Mandoran not called the bomb’s lack of success regrettable. The fact that he apologized for the sentiment—to Kaylin—didn’t appear to help much.

      “I take it back.” Teela’s teeth were clenched so tightly it was a miracle she could wedge words between them. “You were definitely less of a concern than Mandoran, even when you were thirteen.”

      This wasn’t much of a surprise to Kaylin. Mandoran was Barrani, after all. “Let’s just never, ever take him drinking, okay?”

      * * *

      The guards—Clint and Tanner—that manned the outer doors of the Hall were on alert. Anyone would be, given that Bellusdeo’s eyes were a shade of orange that could almost be mistaken for red, and Mandoran’s eyes, a blue that could almost be mistaken for black. They didn’t shift much in color as the small party made its way to the office, either.

      Given that three of the four were still damp—which was a charitable description—silence descended on the office, rippling outward as people stared. It was broken by the usual whispers that implied gossip, but even that took longer than usual to start; no one wanted to piss off a Dragon or a Barrani. Well, except other Dragons or Barrani, apparently.

      Marcus’s facial fur—and ears—rose a good two inches as the Hawks made their way toward his desk. “Report,” he demanded, growling on both r’s.

      Kaylin glanced at Teela. Teela was staring at a spot about six inches above the Sergeant’s eyes.

      “We had a bit of a mishap at Evanton’s,” Kaylin said. She tried to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

      “Wonderful. You’re aware that Lord Emmerian is waiting for you in the West Room?”

      She didn’t cringe. It took effort.

      “If this requires more paperwork on my part, I will take it out of your hide. Don’t just stand their gaping—go.”

      * * *

      Lord Emmerian was not wearing Dragon armor. The fact that Bellusdeo was couldn’t be hidden, and his eyes—which appeared, from first glance, to be a cautious brass, shifted instantly into an orange that was in the same dark range as Bellusdeo’s. Teela had all but grabbed Mandoran by the ears and dragged him as far away from Bellusdeo as office space permitted.

      Since eye color was the first thing Kaylin noticed about Immortals, and his was bad, it took her a moment to look at the rest of him. She had briefly met Emmerian what felt like years ago; he had been silent, then. It was a better silence than the current one. She had seen him in the air above Elani street, with most of the rest of the Dragon Court—as a dragon. She thought his draconic form blue, although color did shift with mood.

      At the moment, he was not in dragon form. He wore the usual expensive cloth of Court dress, but it was far less ostentatious than anything Bellusdeo wore. He had no beard, unlike Sanabalis or the Arkon. It made him look younger, not that the appearance of age meant much where Dragons were concerned. Aside from relative age, he looked nothing like the other Dragons Kaylin had met.

      Oh, he had the eyes. But he was missing some of the arrogant bearing that she associated with Immortals. If it weren’t for the telltale inner eye membranes, which were raised at the moment, she could have mistaken him for a regular person. A regular, rich person.

      “Lord Emmerian,” Bellusdeo said. To Kaylin’s surprise, she bowed.

      “Bellusdeo.”

      Bellusdeo smiled. Her eyes lost some of their murderous rage as she did. “I was informed by Lord Sanabalis that an escort would be provided for our apartment hunt—if that’s the correct usage of the word hunt.”

      “It is,” he replied. “I was pleased to be offered the opportunity—but I confess that I did not expect such a search to be...martial in nature. I am not perhaps suitably attired?”

      She laughed. It was a lovely, low shock of sound—unexpected given the day. “It is, of course, I who am unsuitably attired; I’m tempted to retain the armor for the search. Any landlord who can overlook it is less likely to be troubled by having us as tenants.”

      Lord Emmerian said nothing, although he smiled.

      The small dragon lifted his head; Kaylin could swear he opened only one eye as he surveyed the latest Dragon Lord. He then sighed in a whiffling sort of way and lowered both head and eyelid.

      “If you will accompany us to the Palace, I will change there. With luck, the explanations likely to be demanded won’t detain us until midnight.”

      Kaylin was willing to make bets on that. Sadly, most of them involved another sleepless night and a lot of Dragon shouting. “Let me talk to Caitlin before we leave? She had a few suggestions for places we might look.”

      Lord Emmerian froze.

      “We have to find someplace I can afford,” the private informed him, her voice a mix of defiance and apology.

      * * *

      Caitlin had a list, of course. She handed it to Kaylin, and Kaylin glanced briefly at the addresses while the office denmother dispensed advice. Since no one came to Caitlin’s desk expecting to avoid advice, Kaylin didn’t bristle. “Don’t mention the reason you’re looking for a new place, dear. I realize that might seem a tad unfair to the poor landlord—but I can’t think of many people who’d want to take that risk.”

      Kaylin could—but only one: the Emperor. “I don’t think the Barrani are likely to make another attempt; the only people who’ll be more vigilant about possible attempts than the Emperor are in the High Halls. They were embarrassed,” she added.

      “I don’t think that’s true of all the Barrani.”

      “No,” Kaylin replied, thinking of Mandoran. “But the Barrani Lords know the High Lord is angry; they’ll walk carefully for the next little while. Which, in Barrani terms, is a few decades—possibly enough of them that I’ll be dead of old age and it won’t be my problem. Or my landlord’s. Thanks for this.”

      Caitlin opened her mouth, shook her head, and closed it again. As a send-off, it was ominous.

      * * *

      Bellusdeo did make it to the Palace, and to suitable clothing. She didn’t make it out again without the need to tender a report, but given the reportee was Sanabalis, it was quiet and relatively brief. The small dragon was slumbering across Kaylin’s shoulders the entire time; clearly Sanabalis was not worth the effort of waking up. On the other hand, Sanabalis ignored the small dragon, as well.

      Before they were cleared to leave, Sanabalis had insisted they either take a carriage or a small platoon of Imperial Palace Guards. Kaylin had had enough of the Palace Guard. In fact, she’d had enough of them the first time she’d met them years ago. She made this as clear as only Kaylin Neya on a tear could. Bellusdeo, however, didn’t care for the officious, silent guard, either, and didn’t demur.

      During this discussion, Emmerian was present.

      He remained silent. It wasn’t a rigid silence; he wasn’t—or didn’t appear to be, given eye color—afraid

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