behind. As Moon stepped through the doorway, the consort glanced up, his eyes widening. He pushed to his feet.
He looked as young as Chime had implied, but though his body was almost too slender, his shoulders were broad; Moon thought he was probably past adolescence, if only just. His skin was a lighter bronze than usual for the Aeriat of Indigo Cloud or Emerald Twilight, and his hair was a light gold-brown. Next to him, Moon felt huge and awkward, as if he suddenly had too many bones and they were sticking out in the wrong places.
Moon said, “Who are you?” The young consort stared blankly at him, and Moon clarified, “What’s your name?”
“Uh.” He cleared his throat, and managed to blurt out, “I’m Ember, of Emerald Twilight, of the bloodline of Tempest and Fade.”
Moon hadn’t asked for a pedigree, but it was the way consorts were normally introduced. He supposed it was meant as a compliment that Tempest had handed over a consort from one of her own clutches, but Moon hadn’t had terribly good luck with her offspring so far. “You’re Ash’s clutchmate?”
“No, we’re not—We’re only half—” Ember took a sharp breath, as if bracing himself. “Fade had something wrong with his heart when he was born, and the mentors couldn’t heal it. They said it wouldn’t be passed on to his clutches, so when he was old enough Tempest took him as her second consort so the court wouldn’t lose his bloodline. But he only gave her one clutch before he died.” Ember dropped his gaze, in an agony of self-consciousness. “Just me, and four warriors. But we’re all healthy.”
Moon rubbed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. He might be mature and fertile, but he’s still practically a fledgling . A pampered and beloved fledgling, probably right up until the moment they tore him away from his brothers and sent him off to a foreign court with a terrible reputation. When Moon was that age, he had been experimenting with passing himself off as a groundling for longer periods of time, under more dangerous circumstances; and learning that he could use sex to get someone to be nice to him, for a while at least. And coming to terms with the fact that no place was entirely safe, that anyone could turn on him.
Weary past bearing, Moon said, “If you don’t want to stay up here alone, take the spiral stair at the west end of this level all the way down to the greeting hall. The hall just below it belongs to the teachers. They always have food there and they’ll take care of you.” He knew the teachers would take care of Ember, once they got a look at him; they had even taken care of Moon when he had first arrived, an unwanted feral solitary. That seemed like it was half a lifetime ago, not just the better part of a turn.
Ember looked up at him, wary but hopeful. Moon turned away, unable to take it a moment more.
He was in the doorway when Ember said, “Shadow said that I shouldn’t be afraid of you.”
Moon stopped. He had a surge of bitter jealousy for Shadow, secure in his court with more clutches than he could probably remember fathering. He said, “Shadow doesn’t know me.”
He left the bowers, avoiding the common area, finding his way through the back passages and out to the open gallery above the queens’ level and the central well. He shifted and jumped off, snapping his wings out to slow his fall, and landed on the floor of the greeting hall.
A group of warriors, Tempest and Zephyr’s attendants, sat grouped around the hearth basin near the fountain, watching him with wary curiosity. Ignoring them, he took the stairs down to the teachers’ hall. Several Arbora sat around the hearth, but Moon whipped past before anyone could try to speak to him and fled down the passage to the nurseries.
Outside the door with its carvings of fledglings and baby Arbora at play, he stopped and shifted to groundling. It was hard to make himself step through into the room beyond.
Inside was a big
He looked as young as Chime had implied, but though his body was almost too slender, his shoulders were broad; Moon thought he was probably past adolescence, if only just. His skin was a lighter bronze than usual for the Aeriat of Indigo Cloud or Emerald Twilight, and his hair was a light gold-brown. Next to him, Moon felt huge and awkward, as if he suddenly had too many bones and they were sticking out in the wrong places.
Moon said, “Who are you?” The young consort stared blankly at him, and Moon clarified, “What’s your name?”
“Uh.” He cleared his throat, and managed to blurt out, “I’m Ember, of Emerald Twilight, of the bloodline of Tempest and Fade.”
Moon hadn’t asked for a pedigree, but it was the way consorts were normally introduced. He supposed it was meant as a compliment that Tempest had handed over a consort from one of her own clutches, but Moon hadn’t had terribly good luck with her offspring so far. “You’re Ash’s clutchmate?”
“No, we’re not—We’re only half—” Ember took a sharp breath, as if bracing himself. “Fade had something wrong with his heart when he was born, and the mentors couldn’t heal it. They said it wouldn’t be passed on to his clutches, so when he was old enough Tempest took him as her second consort so the court wouldn’t lose his bloodline. But he only gave her one clutch before he died.” Ember dropped his gaze, in an agony of self-consciousness. “Just me, and four warriors. But we’re all healthy.”
Moon rubbed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. He might be mature and fertile, but he’s still practically a fledgling . A pampered and beloved fledgling, probably right up until the moment they tore him away from his brothers and sent him off to a foreign court with a terrible reputation. When Moon was that age, he had been experimenting with passing himself off as a groundling for longer periods of time, under more dangerous circumstances; and learning that he could use sex to get someone to be nice to him, for a while at least. And coming to terms with the fact that no place was entirely safe, that anyone could turn on him.
Weary past bearing, Moon said, “If you don’t want to stay up here alone, take the spiral stair at the west end of this level all the way down to the greeting hall. The hall just below it belongs to the teachers. They always have food there and they’ll take care of you.” He knew the teachers would take care of Ember, once they got a look at him; they had even taken care of Moon when he had first arrived, an unwanted feral solitary. That seemed like it was half a lifetime ago, not just the better part of a turn.
Ember looked up at him, wary but hopeful. Moon turned away, unable to take it a moment more.
He was in the doorway when Ember said, “Shadow said that I shouldn’t be afraid of you.”
Moon stopped. He had a surge of bitter jealousy for Shadow, secure in his court with more clutches than he could probably remember fathering. He said, “Shadow doesn’t know me.”
He left the bowers, avoiding the common area, finding his way through the back passages and out to the open gallery above the queens’ level and the central well. He shifted and jumped off, snapping his wings out to slow his fall, and landed on the floor of the greeting hall.
A group of warriors, Tempest and Zephyr’s attendants, sat grouped around the hearth basin near the fountain, watching him with wary curiosity. Ignoring them, he took the stairs down to the teachers’ hall. Several Arbora sat around the hearth, but Moon whipped past before anyone could try to speak to him and fled down the passage to the nurseries.
Outside the door with its carvings of fledglings and baby Arbora at play, he stopped and shifted to groundling. It was hard to make himself step through into the room beyond.
Inside was a big
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