The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,173
they, would he have felt uncomfortable? Judged? Angry to be both?
Probably. There were things that Severn accepted as immutable fact; his past was one of them, because no opportunity to change that past had ever been on offer. What he couldn’t change, no matter how bitterly he might have desired it, was simple fact. But some facts, he thought, were not meant to be held up as mirrors. And knowledge, no matter how warped or lacking in context, was exactly that mirror.
Or was it?
What the Tha’alaan knew was never shorn of context. The Tha’alaan—the parts that Ybelline had chosen to share—was almost entirely absent the judgment that swiftly followed in the normal, mortal world.
He couldn’t quite imagine knowledge without judgment, although he did try as he walked between the official castelord and his heir, his eyes caught constantly by movements to either side.
He wondered whether the Tha’alanari was actually a good construct; wondered if living in ignorance was ever the preferred way to live. Judging, he thought, almost wryly.
But it was a constant, even in his life: the desire to protect, to nurture happiness or joy, even in places where both were in scant supply. Given the choice—segregation of the Tha’alaan in order to withhold experiences that the young were in no way equipped to handle—he knew he would do as the castelords of the Tha’alani had done for as long as the Emperor’s demands had existed.
He wondered, as they continued down streets that were a riot of green, dotted with the colors of skin and cloth and the sounds of laughter, if not words, what love meant to the Tha’alani. What did love of family entail, when the entire Tha’alaan was your family? How did one prioritize importance? How could one make oaths to value one person above all others?
Was it even possible?
He glanced at Ybelline; her gaze was upon the children who had clumped together with nervous excitement at the nearing bend in the road. He understood then why they flanked him; they were his shield. Or rather, they were the barrier beyond which curious, high-spirited children were not meant to pass. The children did not seem to be impressed with either the castelord or the castelord’s heir—or if impressed, not intimidated.
But there were things that Severn knew that he could not share—at the will of the castelords themselves, present and future. It was to save the Tha’alaan from such “sharing” that three men had died. And he had accepted their murders, had argued against pursuit of the legal consequences, as if he were standing in the place of the Tha’alanari.
“Did you speak to the Emperor?” he asked softly.
It was Adellos who answered. “Yes. Ah, perhaps this is not the place for such a discussion. The children will not immediately understand it, but they might ask for translations from those who do.” His eyes were a placid gold as he spoke. “And yes is incorrect. I petitioned the Eternal Emperor for an audience.”
“As castelord?”
“Indeed.”
Ybelline caught Severn’s hand and held it, as she had held the castelord’s earlier. “He has not yet arranged an appointment.”
Severn said nothing.
“But I have heard that he did arrange to speak with you.”
Severn nodded. “Is that why you’re both here?”
“No,” she replied, her eyes once again upon the gathered crowd that lined the road, and the few stragglers that were brave enough—or young enough—to cross the invisible barrier that separated that road from the houses and their lots. “But we feel it best to offer a gesture of hope—for the future, which is what hope faces—and so we walk this road with you again.”
She didn’t speak of the last time Severn had walked by the castelord’s side. Severn understood.
“Our people—just as yours—have sharp moments of anger, fear, despair. These emotions are part of all of our existences. We love, and often, the love breeds arguments and outrage—but those arguments don’t invalidate the love itself. They don’t immediately destroy it.”
“And you wish the former events to be classed as an argument between kin?” He kept the incredulity out of his tone with effort.
“Yes.” She had reddened. “I know it sounds strange to you—”
“It would sound strange to anyone who wasn’t, perhaps, Barrani.”
It was Adellos who chuckled. “I thought,” he said apologetically, “that you might feel this way. Ybelline, however, felt that you would not.”
“I...am surprised. But I don’t disagree.”
“No.” Adellos’ expression grew more somber. “She is right,” he said. “My time is done.”