The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,23
will hurt me. But Severn, if you do, it’s a pain I have undertaken willingly.”
He shook his head. “You do it to protect your people. You do it because if you don’t, someone else will. I’m not stupid. I could pretend I didn’t understand a word you—or Lord Marlin—said. But I can’t unhear them.”
“Then remember the last few words.”
“The reminder?”
She nodded.
“That’s the problem,” he replied, without hesitation. “I’m not sure you’ll get the reminder you need. About pain. And madness. And sanity.” His smile was lopsided. “And you haven’t told me enough that I can make a good guess.”
“I am willing to take the risk.”
“It’s not much of a choice, though. Someone has to do it. You’d rather—” For the first time, the boy’s silence felt like slamming shutters.
“I’d rather it was me? Yes. I’m not certain how much you know about Dragons, but I imagine you heard childhood stories. It’s unwise to make a Dragon angry. Ever.” She waited. It seemed, watching her, that she would wait forever—and unlike Helmat, would not resent the waste of her time.
“If Lord Marlin has rescinded the request, why do you want to do this? It doesn’t sound like anything good comes from...that. For you.”
“I told Helmat—”
“Yes, but...he doesn’t believe you. I don’t believe you, either. I’m sorry,” he added. Helmat did not laugh.
“You are difficult,” she replied.
Severn shrugged, the motion fluid. In as much as the youth could be, he appeared relaxed. “Most people you mind-read don’t have a choice.”
“If you wish to become a Wolf, the choice is theoretical.”
“I grew up in the fiefs. I survived them. Only people who have power have choices.”
“And a street urchin has no power.”
“Tell me. What would you do to protect your people?”
“I am doing this. I am seeing—reliving—the visceral desires and thoughts of the murderous. I am taking them into me. I am experiencing their choices as if they were my own. Their actions become part of my memories, as real as anything I have ever personally chosen to do. And if Helmat were not here, if the mirror were not Recording, I would tell you what I’ve done. And done. And done.” Her expression, her tone, were serene.
“Would you kill to protect your people?” He continued, almost as if she had not spoken.
“I am unwilling to have the rest of this discussion where any but my kin can hear it. Let us compromise, Severn Handred. I will bespeak you, with your permission, but I will not do more than that until and unless you agree.”
He considered this, nodded, and then looked at her forehead, at the antennae. “Should I stand? Or sit? You’ll have to—”
“Bend, yes. Or stand on my toes. It is not ideal in either case.”
“Should I lie on the table? You can sit.”
Ybelline turned, once again, to Helmat, as if to seek his permission. Helmat nodded.
Severn then got up on the conference room’s table, and lay across it, on his back. “Just discussion?”
“Until you give me explicit permission, yes.”
Severn then closed his eyes.
“Lord Marlin,” Ybelline said, as she likewise seated herself, adjusting the position of the chair she had chosen, “I better understand your haste today.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Is your name really Severn?
Is your name really Ybelline?
It is. It is not the entirety of my name, but it is the name I prefer.
Lord Marlin is worried. About you.
Yes. But Lord Marlin is a man who is always worried about something.
This doesn’t seem so bad.
She chuckled, both here and out loud, where it might ease the worry of the aforementioned Lord Marlin. I haven’t started yet.
No? But—
Yes, we’re speaking. But we’re speaking without moving our lips. Or at least I am. We’re having a conversation that would be entirely normal—to you—were it not for the fact we’re in physical contact. She paused, and added, Except this time you’re actually speaking.
She felt his smile. Not a chuckle, not a laugh, but something both warm and reserved.
Helmat—pardon me, Lord Marlin—feels that there is a pressing need to conduct your interview; it’s almost as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t nail your feet to the floor, you’ll slip through his fingers.
Silence. A beat. Two. I wouldn’t slip through Elluvian’s.
You underestimate Helmat, which almost surprises me, given his apparent ferocity. It doesn’t happen often.
But I don’t overestimate Elluvian.
No. He is Barrani. Be wary of him, if you can.
I know.
There, she thought. Something in the quality of that answer was a thread, a small window, a way in. She had not lied. Severn—unlike so many of the