abilities like this?
Be still, came Dari’s private, urgent mental communication. You know nothing. You feel nothing.
Aron did his best to comply with her wishes, but had no idea if he was achieving his goals. Falconer didn’t seem to be aware of him now at all. The entirety of his attention was riveted on Stormbreaker.
“You are a child of Vagrat,” Falconer murmured, his expression shifting to wariness, or even worry. “And you would have been Harvested… when?”
“That is none of your concern,” Stormbreaker said through his teeth.
Lord Baldric moved to stand between the two men, using his considerable bulk like a wide gray buffer wall. “Enough of this. Master Falconer, I’ll have quarters prepared for you. Hasty, Terrick—see our guest to the kitchens while his chambers are made ready.”
Falconer didn’t at all look like he wished to leave, but at the same time, his eyes darted from Stormbreaker to the chamber door.
At last he realizes his peril. Aron almost wished Stormbreaker would let loose a volley of lightning and rain, just to see how Falconer responded, but he also realized it was important to Lord Baldric to keep the peace.
Falconer seemed to weigh his situation and options, and to grow more distressed with each passing moment. He regarded Stormbreaker with much higher interest now, or perhaps it was terror, though of what, Aron couldn’t say.
Terrick and Hasty stood and formed an escort, and Falconer allowed himself to be ushered to the door. He stopped long enough to turn and address Lord Baldric once more. “I sincerely regret any misunderstanding that may have grown between Stone and Thorn over the handling of orphans these past years.” His words sounded more sincere as he continued, but his gaze continued to shift to Stormbreaker every few seconds. “Rock and leaf, stone and thorn—we are both as essential to the life and growth of Eyrie as we always have been. Please allow me to begin to heal any breach that might have formed. I’m certain Lady Pravda would wish me to make reparations on her behalf.”
He bowed, and waited for Lord Baldric’s response.
Stunned by the man’s shift from arrogant demands and pronouncements to humble supplication, Aron stared at Falconer. Then he watched Lord Baldric breathe slowly at least three times before he growled, “Yes, I’m sure Pravda would want just that. We’ll meet on the morning to make plans, if that will satisfy you.”
Aron needed no touch of the Brailing legacy to read the sarcasm and mistrust in Lord Baldric’s tone. It was laced with something like despair as well.
Falconer raised his head. Despite Lord Baldric’s attitude, the Thorn Brother seemed genuinely relieved. “Thank you. I’ll look forward to our talk tomorrow, and I appreciate this opportunity to rest and restore myself.”
The door had barely closed behind him when Dari dropped into her chair and released her mental touch on Aron and, Aron presumed, on Stormbreaker.
Lord Baldric faced off with Stormbreaker and pointed a thick finger right in his face. “Grudge or no grudge, you will respect visitors when we receive them.” Then, softer, and with less force, “Don’t make me regret naming you our First High Master.”
Stormbreaker offered no apologies, but he did seem more subdued following the reprimand. Aron found himself holding his breath, as if waiting for a new storm to burst from the depths of Stormbreaker’s essence.
For her part, Dari remained silent and withdrawn. Her eyes were closed. Exhaustion seemed to roll out of her, along with distress and pain she didn’t bother to conceal. Aron was caught between going to her to offer comfort and remaining absolutely still to avoid interrupting the Lord Provost.
Lord Baldric lowered his hand and folded his arms across his broad chest. His expression shifted to that of a father, and his next question to Stormbreaker was gentler still. “Can you forgive them, Dun?”
The rest of Stormbreaker’s tension left him like a breeze blowing through open shutters. His shoulders drooped forward, and he leaned on the table in front of him with his head down. “I don’t know.”
“Not the people.” Lord Baldric’s tone remained softer than Aron was used to hearing from him. “I would never ask that of you or your sister—but can you grant that as an institution, Thorn may have some good left in it, some righteous honor that one day may be salvaged?”
Stormbreaker snorted. “With that one taking over for Pravda Altar if she ever has the decency to die?”
“Falconer was little more than an apprentice back then,” Lord Baldric said. “He