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to offer. “I can’t really talk about it,” she finally said. “Not without having my throat ripped out.”
Bellusdeo, however, knew that this wasn’t literal. It had taken her a couple of days to figure that out, because Marcus was still his usual suspicious and unfriendly self when dealing with Dragons. “I almost think I will apply for a job in the Halls,” she said, her voice cool. “I’ve heard that the Hawks are very multiracial, and they’ve even had a Dragon as a member before.”
“Marcus would be your boss,” Kaylin replied quickly.
“Yes. I’ll admit that is a deterrent. Are you ready to go home?”
Kaylin had been ready to go home an hour ago, which would have been during the meeting with the Hawklord, Sanabalis, and Marcus. She nodded, looking out the window, which was silent for the moment. “We have time to grab something to eat—and get changed—before we head to the palace and the charming Lord Diarmat for tonight’s personal torture session.”
* * *
The streets wouldn’t be empty for hours yet, but they weren’t quite as crowded as they had been on the way in, and Kaylin couldn’t be late, in a career-detrimental way, to enter her own apartment. She could, however, miss the few remaining farmers in the market, so she hurried to that destination, Bellusdeo in tow. Bellusdeo had a few questions about food acquisition, but in the main, the worst of them had been answered on their first foray into the market, much to Kaylin’s frustration and the bemusement of the farmers.
It was helpful to have Bellusdeo here, on the other hand, because the baskets in which food was generally carried home were still in said home. They made their way back to the apartment; by this point, Bellusdeo had no difficulty finding it.
The Dragon practiced her Elantran in the market, and she practiced it in the street. Kaylin tried—very hard—to elide all swearing from her commentary and her answers to Bellusdeo’s questions, and only in part because it was slightly embarrassing to have to explain what the rude words meant.
But she was hungry and slightly discouraged as she made her way to the apartment, her thoughts mostly on the midwives, Tiamaris, and the total lack of privacy one room afforded.
She unlocked the door, entered her room, and made a beeline for the mirror; when it showed a total lack of calls, she relaxed. She let her hair down, literally, and tried to put the stick where she could easily find it in the morning. She then went to the kitchen for a couple of plates. There was still water that was potable, and the food she’d bought for the evening didn’t require anything as complicated as cooking.
Bellusdeo took a seat on the bed, which was fair; the chair was a clothing repository at the moment, and Kaylin wasn’t so exhausted that she needed to fall over and sleep. The bed, however, creaked ominously as it received Dragon weight, and while it hadn’t yet collapsed beneath Bellusdeo, the sound reminded Kaylin of the unhatched egg that now resided beneath her. She quickly shoved the remainder of a hard, smooth cheese into her mouth and tried not to look as if she was diving in a panic for the box that contained the egg.
Bellusdeo snorted. Kaylin had the grace to look a little embarrassed as she unwound the various bits and pieces of cloth that served as poor insulation for the egg during her absence.
The egg was a pale shade of purple in her hands.
“It wasn’t that color earlier,” Bellusdeo observed, leaning back on her hands and stretching.
“No, it wasn’t. Tomorrow, if it hasn’t hatched, I’m going to bring it with me to the office.”
“Oh, your Sergeant will love that, I’m certain.” She frowned and looked up at the shutters of the window as they popped open.
Kaylin, still holding the egg, winced and rose. “Sorry about that,” she said, because the shutter had narrowly avoided the back of Bellusdeo’s head. “They’re warped. I keep meaning to see about getting them replaced—”
“When you say ‘replaced,’ do you mean you intend to build new ones?”
“Hells, no. I couldn’t make new shutters that would be half as good as these, and these are no good. Let me tie them together.”
Bellusdeo, however, was looking at something in her lap. She rose, her expression freezing solid. It wasn’t her expression that was the problem: it was the color of her eyes. They’d shifted from lazy gold to a deep, deep red without stopping for anything else in between. “Kaylin,” she said, moving toward her and toward the door, as well. “The shutters—”
But Kaylin didn’t need to hear more, because something flew in through the open window.
Chapter 2
Kaylin’s first instinct was to ram the shutters shut, but she was carrying the egg, and she’d have to set it down—or drop it. “Get down, Bellusdeo.” Her voice was sharp, harsh.
Bellusdeo caught Kaylin by the shoulders and dragged her from the window as Kaylin ducked out of any line of sight that wasn’t at a severe angle and tried to see where the crossbow bolt had landed. She didn’t find it.
“Kaylin, we have to leave.”
“If there’s more than one assassin,” Kaylin countered, “running out the door in a panic is playing into their hands.” She grabbed for the egg’s carton as a second bolt flew through the open window.
Except it wasn’t a bolt. Kaylin felt the hair on her neck instantly stand at attention, which was bad; the marks on her body began to burn, which was worse. She couldn’t see what she’d clearly heard land on the floor of her apartment, but she didn’t need to see it to know—suddenly and completely—what it was. Her eyes widened.
“Gods—Bellusdeo—it’s an Arcane bomb—”
The room exploded.
* * *
Wood flew out in a wide circle: shutters, parts of the wall, wooden floor slats, and the soft wood that formed their base. Her mattress sent feathers into the air, and the feathers were caught in a blue, blue sizzle, becoming a miniature lightning storm. There was so damn much magic in the room, Kaylin’s entire body was screaming in pain on the way to total numbness.
Which was better than being dead.
Bellusdeo had her arms around Kaylin and her back toward the window; her body was pressed against the egg that Kaylin still held between almost nerveless palms. The world expanded around them; shards of mirror flew past Kaylin’s cheek and lodged in the Dragon’s hair. The floor beneath their feet cracked and gave; the joists above their heads did the same, bending up toward someone else’s floor. Wind whipped whatever wasn’t nailed down through the air—which would, in this apartment, be everything.
Everything except the two women who stood at what had once been its center. Kaylin could see a sphere surrounding them; it was a soft, pale gold, like the color of a living word—but there were no words to shed it.
“Are you all right?” she shouted.
Bellusdeo nodded. Her eyes were still bloodred, and her hands were like bruising pincers.
“I didn’t know you were so powerful—”
Bellusdeo’s brows rose into her very disheveled hair. “I’m not. This isn’t me.”
“It’s not me, either.” Kaylin looked at the bracer on her wrist; its gems’ lights were flashing so quickly they looked like chaos embedded in gold. Somewhere above, below, and to the right, people began to shout and scream as Kaylin looked at her hands.
For once, Kaylin was barely aware of the civilians.
The egg’s shell had cracked, and bits of it were flying in the unnatural wind the Arcane bomb had caused. It didn’t matter. What was in—what had been surrounded by—that shell stared up at her. It was small and pale; it was also, like slightly smoky glass, translucent. Everything except its