The Emperor's Wolves (Wolves of Elantra #1) - Michelle Sagara Page 0,99

was slightly larger than life. Hiding his own light wasn’t possible, except on the inside of his dreams.

He, too, had been affected by Random. He’d liked her. He felt, in some way, that she had much in common with the Tha’alani—much more than most humans. She hadn’t been afraid. He hadn’t been afraid, then. As he grew older, he shouldered the burden of fear. It sat very poorly on his shoulders.

It’s not fear, Tessa told him. It’s caution.

Caution is boring. If we were cautious, we’d never have met Random. We’d never have met Oracles. We’d never have met Ollarin.

Both Ybelline and Severn stiffened.

That’s not his name.

An image formed in Tobi’s mind, then. Ollarin. The faint hope that he was a human, a mortal, was crushed.

It’s what he wanted to be called.

Barrani names aren’t like our names. Or like mortal names at all. They’re like—Dragon names.

The painting Random had briefly shown them took up the whole of their thoughts.

You wanted to do this, he said. You wanted to find answers to the things that she had no explanation for.

It was true. She wanted that because it had been so important to Random. The value of, the usefulness of, the gift that had destroyed her early life completely was the single thing that Random held on to: it proved she had value. A lot of value. She wasn’t a curse. She wasn’t a witch.

Tessa had not known that word, before Random. She understood it now. She also understood that people considered the Tha’alani to be far worse than simple witches.

Severn found that he could only see Tessa’s memories now; could only feel what she felt. The conversation with Tobi existed because Tessa was part of it.

Tobi’s part—and possibly Jerrin’s, who had not yet appeared—was mute.

It is gone, Ybelline said. Both are gone. Just as the initial memories are no longer present.

But Tessa remembered.

Yes—but she remembered the events just as you might remember events of your childhood. She could not return to it—as we did—as an adult. She couldn’t view her past self from the perspective of her present self. It is probably why she became so careful at navigating the Tha’alaan. She understood that things would otherwise be...lost. It is very difficult to find—to put together—some parts of these events.

Is that why the deaths were considered accidents?

Ybelline, grim now, didn’t answer. But he felt the heat of anger wash over her. It was the last thing he felt; she broke contact. He opened his eyes as she pulled away; her eyes were green—the green of perfect emeralds; hard, cold, glittering.

Ah. She was almost crying. He reached out, but let his hand fall away before he could touch her.

“I will return,” she told him. “I have yet to give you the information that you requested from the Imperial Service.” Her voice was low, trembling.

“Wait. We said we would be your guards on the way back to the quarter. You can’t leave here like this.”

She wanted to say no. She didn’t.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Helmat was waiting for Elluvian and Severn; his office door was open and he sat behind his desk, glaring at himself in a mirror that was inactive. Reminding himself, as he did, that he had reasons for wanting Severn as part of the Wolves.

Ybelline’s abrupt—and utterly silent—departure had left questions, of course. She had made an excuse; Severn’s request required her to return to the Imperial Service offices to access their Records.

The Tha’alani weren’t natural liars. Ybelline had learned, but learned slowly—and while it was a necessary skill, Helmat did not appreciate it. Then again, he had never appreciated being the recipient of lies. No one did. She had lied. Nor had he had time to grill Severn—a subordinate, unlike Ybelline, who would otherwise be forced to answer his questions—before they departed to escort her.

Severn and Elluvian did return. They entered the open office, Elluvian in the lead.

Helmat folded his arms, leaned back in his chair, and glared. It was his resting expression. He waited for someone to break the silence that glare enforced.

It was the private who did. “I request permission,” he said, “to visit the Oracular Halls.”

Helmat could take a body blow without flinching. His expression, carefully schooled, did not shift at all. Had he been another man, his jaw might now be resting on his desktop.

“For what purpose?”

“I wish to interview a person of relevance to our investigation.”

Helmat’s gaze flicked up to meet Elluvian’s.

Elluvian shrugged, a fluid, graceful gesture. “Don’t look to me for answers; this is the first I’ve