THE FIRST YEAR OF KATE’S exile from Norgard, she’d been plagued by homesickness. It would strike at random moments, triggered by a familiar smell or sound or a common phrase spoken by a stranger. Then all at once tears would prick her eyes and breathing would become a struggle. She’d dealt with it then the only way she knew how—by moving forward, staying busy. That was the best part of her work with the Relay; the pressure of the rides helped her outrun the ghosts. On the road, there was no one around to see her cry, and eventually the longing for home passed until she was certain she would never suffer it again.
But since returning to Norgard, her homesickness had returned worse than ever and with few ways to combat it. She didn’t understand how it could be so when the very home she longed for surrounded her now. Every piece of furniture, every painting and statue, every mark on the marble floor was familiar. Nothing had changed. It seemed since her father’s death, no one had wanted to inhabit the quarters of a traitor, not even long enough to clear it out. Then at last Kate understood that it wasn’t the physical space her heart wanted, but the past she could never return to.
It didn’t help that the present had become so tense as well. When she wasn’t being ambushed by memories of the past, her mind kept returning to the parting words Master Raith had spoken to her the day they arrived at the castle.
I know what you are.
He’d whispered it into her ear so no one could hear, then walked away without another glance. There’d been no sign or word from him since—nearly a week now. She couldn’t understand it. Why make the threat and never follow through with it? All she could think was that he was waiting for the right moment to reveal her secret, some opportunity that would best serve him in some way.
Or maybe it wasn’t a threat at all.
But no, she couldn’t believe that. Not from a magist. Not when she was a wilder—and he knows!
She was trapped. She couldn’t leave, not with Bonner and the task he faced of making the revolvers. He’d run into trouble already—the first molds he created cracked the moment one of the royal blacksmiths tried to use them. Kate had a feeling Bonner didn’t fully realize just how much he relied on his magic to accomplish what he did. Sometimes the magic was so instinctual, the wielder wasn’t even aware of using it. She feared things were only going to get worse. It was why she hadn’t told either him or Signe what Raith had said. Kate didn’t want them to panic and do something foolish, like try to get her to leave the country. I need more time to discover the truth about my father.
It was past time she got started.
Mustering her courage, Kate flipped back the sheets and climbed out of bed. She dressed quickly, knowing that if she hesitated even for a second, she might change her mind. She’d barely left her rooms these last few days, but today she would visit the royal stables. Surely there were still some of her father’s friends there, people who knew him well enough for him to have shared his secrets with them. Since he wasn’t sharing them with me.
Go to Fenmore. She still had no idea what it meant. But someone must. She hoped that Alaistar Cade might help. He was master of horse now, but for the first seventeen years of her life, Alaistar had been her father’s second—and her uncle by proxy. She had no other family, not counting her mother, who was never around enough to be counted. But she didn’t know what to expect from Alaistar now. On the day her father was executed, he’d been away on an expedition to Rhoswen in search of new horses to add to the bloodlines. Kate fled Norgard before his return. When she saw him in the courtyard the day of their arrival, he’d glanced at her several times, but always with a guarded expression.
Leaving her bedroom, she headed down the hall to the main room. The place was quiet, Signe still asleep after a late night out with Dal. For a moment as Kate passed her father’s study, a large ebony desk tucked in the far corner of the main room, she could almost see him out of the corner of her eye. With a hollow ache in her center, she headed through the door.
Dim light filled the corridor, the sun just starting to show its face beyond the stained glass windows, these depicting the Ride of Adair in a series of frames. The sound of footsteps reached her ears and for half a moment she considered retreating back to her room long enough to let whomever it was pass. But then she raised her head and carried on. She was done being a coward, or at least behaving like one.
Keeping to one side of the staircase, she headed down, only to stop a moment later when she saw Corwin climbing up. He held a napkin in his left hand, the smell of cinnamon and lemon wafting toward her. His right hand was still wrapped in gauze from the uror branding. This was the first time she’d seen him since that night.
A smiled crested his lips when he spotted her. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you bring me sweet rolls?”
“What, these?” He held up the napkin, his expression turning impish. “Whyever would you think I’d bring you something so delicious?”
Against her better judgment, Kate closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of them. A smile curled the side of her face. “Because you know I have an unholy obsession with the way they taste.”
“Unholy indeed.” He held out the napkin. “I’m glad to see your tastes haven’t changed.”
Kate snatched one of the rolls and took the biggest bite she could manage. She’d eaten well since arriving at the castle, decadent meals shared with Signe and Bonner and comprised of every food imaginable—except for sweet rolls. Those were a treat considered appropriate only for children, it seemed.
And the high prince of Norgard. Corwin took the second roll on the pile and devoured nearly half of it in one bite. They shared an icing-smeared grin.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where are you headed this morning?”
Her stomach did a somersault. Maybe such a sugary confection wasn’t a good idea just now. “The stables.”
A look of surprise crossed Corwin’s face. “That’s fortunate. I was coming to ask you to visit the stables with me today, actually.”
“You were?”
Corwin nodded, his gaze shifting nervously away from her face, then back again. “I had a talk with Bonner yesterday. He mentioned that you were . . . ah . . . a bit restless and spending far too much time inside.”
Kate put a hand on her waist. “You two were talking about me?”
Corwin ran a thumb over his chin, tracing the line of the scar. “He was worried about you, and . . . and so was I. I thought I’d made a mistake placing you back in your family’s old quarters.” He motioned to the hallway behind her.
It was a mistake, she thought. You should’ve asked me. And yet, it wasn’t. She knew that no matter how much it hurt, she needed to face down these restless ghosts if she ever hoped to find peace. She drew a deep breath.
“I’m fine with the quarters. What is it you and Bonner decided about me during this little talk you had?” she said, her tone biting.
“I thought it was time for me to honor my promise to find you a position in the royal stables. I know it was always your dream and—” He broke off, clearing his throat. “And so I’ve arranged for you to audition with Master Cade.”
Kate’s heart did a strange jilting dance in her chest. An audition? It seemed impossible to believe after years of wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps. Even more than that, if Master Cade was receptive to the idea, then maybe he would be open to answering her questions, too. Hope bubbled up inside her, and she forced back a giddy smile.
“I suppose I would be okay with that. Gods know I’m dying to ride.”
Corwin bowed his head, then motioned to the steps. “All right, let’s be off then. Although it seems a shame I didn’t need these to bribe you to come along.” He held up the remaining sweet roll, and Kate snatched it out of his hand. Her churning nerves were no match for her love of such sugary goodness.
“Your instincts weren’t wrong, though,” she said around a mouthful. “For this kind of bribe, I might do anything.”
A suggestive smile teased his lips. “Anything?”
Kate rolled her eyes, which only made him laugh in response. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. Yes, they’d formed a fragile alliance on the road here, but she didn’t know if she was ready to be so casual around him. It felt too much like how it used to be. Be careful, she thought, distrusting the lure of those old feelings.
The stables occupied the entire west half of the castle grounds, a sprawling single-story building that housed more than a hundred individual stalls. The horses here lived better than most common folk, their stalls bedded with fresh straw, their water buckets emptied and refilled twice each day, near-constant grooming. They never wanted for food or care. That wasn’t to say that they didn’t earn their keep, though. The warhorses were ridden several hours each day, their training as rigorous as any soldier’s. Some days they were worked over obstacles, some days it was flatwork or endurance training. All days they were exposed to battlefield conditions. The horses produced here were expected to be as fierce as the riders they carried.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much since we arrived,” Corwin said as they headed into the barn, toward the main office. The grooms and stable hands they passed watched them with poorly veiled interest. “But I’ve been a little preoccupied with the uror.”
“I understand.” Kate longed to ask how he felt about it. She’d witnessed firsthand how much he struggled when the uror sign failed to arrive when it was supposed to, watching as it slowly shattered his once-solid certainty that he was meant to rule. “Is it true the sign is a horse?” she asked.
“Yes, it is.” He halted midstride and faced her. “Would you like to see it?”
At Kate’s nod, Corwin turned left down one of the smaller aisles. Ahead, two armed guards stood outside a stall. They stepped aside at Corwin’s approach. He stopped in front of the barred window and peered in. Kate did the same, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the horse, marked by the goddess in black and white.
The uror colt was still finishing his breakfast, but he raised his head from the grain bucket and peered back at them. With wide, wild eyes, one black and one blue, he stretched his neck to the bars and sniffed Kate’s fingers where she gripped the edge of the window. She longed to touch the horse, her gift humming inside her, but she didn’t dare.
That was, until Corwin said, “You can go in, if you’d like.”
Kate’s fingers trembled as she slid open the stall door and took a step inside. The colt retreated, tossing his head nervously. Then curiosity got the best of him, and he stretched his nose out to Kate. She let him sniff at her fingers again, then touched the soft velvet of his muzzle. For just a second she dared to use her magic, touching his mind as well—but she couldn’t read anything from him. It was as if a black veil hid him from her sight.
She ran a hand down the front of his nose, and he leaned his mouth toward her chest. Worried he might nip, she started to push him away, but then he snorted, blowing snot over the front of her tunic.
She grimaced. “Aren’t you the naughty boy?”
He snorted again—less messily this time.
“It’s strange how normal he is, isn’t it?” Corwin said, watching the exchange from outside the stall. “If you didn’t know better, you would think he was an ordinary horse. That is, if you only went by his behavior.”
“What do you mean?” Kate said at his peculiar tone.
Corwin shrugged. “The horse makes me feel . . . strange. When I’m around him, it’s like this buzzing in my head.”
Frowning, Kate turned back to the colt and reached out to him with her magic once more, a gentle probe against that black veil. She felt something respond, but then it skittered away, behind the curtain once more. Nevertheless, she sensed the horse’s intelligence, his vibrant energy.
Withdrawing her magic, she ran her hands down the colt’s sleek neck. “What are you?” she whispered, and for a second she experienced a buzzing like Corwin described, a tingle like the magic in a magestone once invoked.
“Prince Corwin,” a voice called from down the corridor. “You’re early.”
Kate turned her head, spying the newcomer through the bars on the front of the stall. Age had marked Alaistar Cade in the last few years, spreading liberal amounts of salt through his red hair and painting a spiderweb of wrinkles around his eyes. But the crooked smile he turned on her now was exactly as she remembered.
“Welcome back, Miss Brighton.”
She stepped out of the stall, closing the door behind her. “Good day, Master Cade.” The title tasted strange on her tongue. She used to call him Uncle Alaistar but couldn’t imagine doing so now. That name came from another time and place—one she couldn’t go back to, no matter how close it might seem.
Alaistar must’ve sensed the distance, too, for his manner turned more formal. “Are you ready for your audition then?”
“Yes, sir.” She swallowed back a tremor of nerves.
Master Cade turned and led the way out of the stables to the cavalry field, where several of the horses in training were already saddled and waiting to be worked. Kate eyed them with a heart both full and hungry. She sensed her father’s hand in the making of each one. Here was his true legacy. The one he should be remembered for.
“Do you mind if I stay and watch?” Corwin asked, but before Kate could respond, a page arrived. He bowed low before the prince and handed him a folded card. Reading it, Corwin made a noise of disgust. “Tell the council I’m on my way.” The page bowed again, then ran from the stable, eager to deliver his message. Corwin touched Kate’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but duty calls.” He smiled, but it seemed weak around the edges. “Good luck, and I’ll come by to see you later if I can.”
Then he was gone, leaving her alone with Alaistar Cade. She turned to him, expecting to see that same smile again, but his gaze as he looked on her now was cold as a midwinter wind. She shivered, fearing the worst.
Alaistar folded his arms over his chest. “Now that the high prince is gone, we can be done with the charade. There is no need for you to audition, because the last thing I would ever allow is for that traitor’s daughter to ride one of my horses. I’ve better things in mind for you.”
Kate stared at him, openmouthed with shock. It quickly gave way to anger. Your horses? These are my father’s horses! His legacy! A dozen curses slid through her mind, but she was still too stunned to say them. It was just as she’d warned Corwin—the moment he was gone, they would turn on her. Only, a part of her had thought, had hoped, that Alaistar Cade—Uncle Alaistar—would be the one exception.
She was wrong.
Cade turned on his heel and headed back into the stable. He hadn’t ordered her to follow, but she’d understood the command just the same. With tears burning her eyes, she followed after him. She breathed shallowly, teeth gritted. She refused to cry in front of this man.
Once inside, Cade pulled a pitchfork off a hook on the wall and held it out to her. “You can muck out the stables. Start here and work your way down the line. I’m sure you remember where to dump the manure.”
Kate took the fork without speaking, outrage and betrayal forming a hot lump in her throat.
“And don’t you dare touch any of the horses. If a stall is occupied, skip it until the horse is let outside for the day.” Cade didn’t wait for confirmation this time, but turned and marched away, his boots making hard clicks against the floor.
Several seconds passed before Kate was able to shake off the daze that had seized her. A part of her wanted to quit right there, but the rest of her knew that would only make Cade happy. He wanted her to quit, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Retrieving a wheelbarrow, she set about her task.
It was hard, back-breaking work, but not unfamiliar to her. Her father always said that those who wanted to ride needed to earn the right by caring for their mounts first. Wishing more than ever that he was still here, Kate worked with her head down and shoulders set. She didn’t look up, not even when a groom or stable hand passed by. That was, until one of them knocked over her nearly full wheelbarrow, spilling piss- and shit-covered straw over the concrete floor.
“You bastard,” she shouted at the groom’s retreating back.
The boy looked over his shoulder at her. “Better a bastard than a traitor.” He made a rude hand gesture, then marched off.
The abuse continued throughout the day—half a dozen spilled wheelbarrows, her pitchfork going missing the moment she set it down, then finally, the last straw—when one of the stable hands dumped a forkful of steaming fresh manure over her head while her back was turned.
Kate’s anger burned in her cheeks and tears of outrage stung her eyes. She threw down the fork, ready to pummel the stable hand, but the boy was already running down the aisle out of reach.
Drawing a deep breath, Kate forced herself to walk serenely to Master Cade’s office. She felt the manure hot and wet against her scalp, but she didn’t shake it off. Not yet. To her satisfaction, she saw Cade sitting at his desk through the window.
She pushed the door open and stepped in. Cade looked up, his expression first surprised, then stormy. But he didn’t scare her. Not anymore. She leaned over the desk and shook her head, dislodging the manure right on top of the breeding registry he was working on. It slopped against it, ruining hours’ worth of work.
Cade leaped out of his chair with a curse.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” Kate said, hands on hips and sides heaving with rage. “So that he didn’t live long enough to see the kind of man you really are, Uncle Alaistar.”
Cade flinched but seemed too furious to respond.
Kate turned and marched to the door, pausing just long enough to say over her shoulder, “I’d rather be dead, too, than work for you. I quit.”
She made it all the way back to her quarters before finally breaking down into tears. To her relief, Signe was gone, allowing Kate to express her grief and shame in private. With her eyes blurred from crying, she drew a bath, grateful that the castle had running water, which allowed her to stay in her rooms instead of fetching a bucket from the kitchens. Enough people had noticed the state of her on the trip from the stables back to the castle as it was. All of Norgard would learn of the incident before long, she didn’t doubt. It would make for an amusing illustration in one of the newspapers.
Trying not to think about it, Kate washed the manure from her hair and body, scrubbing until her skin and scalp felt raw. Then she dried herself off and dressed in fresh clothes, throwing the old ones into a pile to be washed later. But still the pain had not subsided.
She wandered back to the main room and sat down behind her father’s desk. Other than the stables, it was the place that reminded her of him the most. Whenever he came home at night, he would sit here for hours, working on the bloodline registries or balancing the family finances in the ledger. She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine for a moment that he was still here.
When Kate opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on the top edge of the painting that had hung behind the desk for as long as she could remember. She hadn’t really looked at it since returning, but now it drew her in. It depicted a coastline with water an impossible shade of blue green, yet so clear that you could see the outline of rocks on the seafloor. Hovering in the distance, emerald-green mountains stretched toward a cloudless sky. Kate had been fascinated by the painting as a child. Although it was an imaginary landscape, existing only within the mind of the artist, Kate used to call it . . .
Fenmore.
Realization dawned bright as a new star in her mind, and Kate stood from the desk on trembling legs. Go to Fenmore. Was this what he meant? It seemed impossible, and yet she found herself running her hands over the painting’s surface, searching it for some hidden message. Finding nothing, she lifted the painting off the wall, ready to rip the back of it open.
Instead she found a lockbox embedded in the wall behind it, hidden all this time. Her pulse began to race as she raised her hands to the handle and pulled. Surely it would be locked, but to her relief, it slid open without hindrance. Her father must not have seen reason to keep it locked when it was already so well hidden.
A book lay inside the small space, turned sideways to fit. Kate pulled it out, her imagination spinning visions of a diary with the latest entry an explanation of everything. But when she set it on the desk and opened the front cover, she discovered it was only a ledger, similar to the one her father had used to keep track of their finances.
Similar, but not the same. In the year before his death, Hale had begun to show his daughter a little of how to balance their money. He knew that his wife would never be up for the task, and he didn’t believe in trusting a hired clerk to do it. Kate would’ve recognized that ledger immediately, and this was not it. That one he always kept in a desk drawer.
Why have two? She flipped through the pages, full of entries written in her father’s untidy scrawl. She searched it all the way to the back, still hoping for a note but finding nothing. Yet she knew without doubt that this was what her father had wanted her to find. There could be only one reason why he would have a second book: to hide a secret.
One Kate was now determined to uncover for herself.