The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,24

mortals given over to the inspection and ultimate invasion by the Tha’alani agents—had choice. She doubted he understood the nature of that choice although he understood the theory.

Why? Severn’s interior voice was soft.

Why?

Why do you think I don’t understand?

You did not grow up in the Tha’alaan. You did not grow up surrounded, always, by the thoughts and emotions of your people. Mortals fear judgment, Severn. They fear exposure. They fear to be seen as themselves. But we don’t. We see ourselves, and our kin. We see them, always. We see their small fears, but we recognize them for what they are. We do not see weakness and strength as you see it. We do not have to prove ourselves, somehow, to each other. We do not doubt our love, or the love we are given.

She inhaled. But we don’t expect that love to be perfect, either. We see the stress of the day. We see the joy of the day. We hear—She stopped the rush of words. If we did not have the Tha’alaan, I fear that we would be like you, for we are mortal as well. The seeds of fear and need would grow in us, shaping who we might become in isolation.

She was surprised when Severn reached out to hold her hand in his. Not to grasp or steady himself; she saw that. And we are not one mind. We are not one person. Garadin is, as you perhaps saw, himself. So, too, am I. We disagree, we argue, we make our own choices—but we do so as part of the Tha’alaan. We want the same things for our people, for ourselves; we don’t always agree on how to achieve them.

Ybelline.

She quieted, chagrined. I am trying to justify myself.

No. Or maybe. It doesn’t matter. You’re here because the Wolves demanded someone be sent. You’re here because I might want to be a Wolf.

You’re not afraid of me.

I am, he said. But I’m afraid for you, as well. I haven’t—she thought he would stop; had he been speaking out loud, she was certain he would have. I haven’t been good at not hurting people in the past.

His hands shuddered in hers. The whole of his body shuddered. His grip tightened. He held on as if she were a branch at cliff’s edge, and he had fallen. For a moment, she bore the whole of his weight. It was a metaphor, and it wasn’t perfect, but as he righted himself again, she felt that it was true regardless.

Severn’s reaction to the mention of Barrani was an echo of the past Helmat wanted unearthed; his flat statement about hurting people was the heart of it.

I better understand Helmat’s interest, Garadin said. He was, like Ybelline, Tha’alanari. He could see, and had seen, the wild growth of dangerous insanity in mortals. He had touched the thoughts and memories, experienced the storm of fear and rage and fury. He could, and did, contain them.

Ybelline could do so as well. But she was Tha’alani. To work in constant, unbroken isolation was not possible for any length of time. Or perhaps at all. To the Tha’alanari, then, those chosen to bear the burden of privacy and separation, she remained an open book.

Will you do as Helmat has asked?

Garadin could feel her hesitance, her reluctance. Severn is human. Humans value privacy, because it is all they have ever known. I don’t want to break him.

Garadin’s voice was joined by Scoros’s. You will not break him.

You are so certain, teacher?

It has been long since I’ve had anything to teach you, Scoros replied, warmth and disapproval blending perfectly in his tone. But I see what you see. I hear what you hear. Both before you touched him, and after. I understand your concern—but Ybelline, he is not broken now.

Humans are fragile.

Some, yes, but is that not true of the people as well? Most of our people are fragile; it is why the Tha’alanari exists. Think of pain and hurt as physical ailments. Our people find healing in each other, and that healing is constant. This boy’s people don’t have that, but humans do heal.

If a leg is broken, and the injured person tries to walk or run, it worsens the injury.

Yes, yes. Do you think his leg is broken?

I don’t know.

You are the only one present who can answer that question, and there is no answer without risk.

I’m worried for him.

Yes. But Ybelline, it is when you cannot be worried for the person you interrogate that you