FOR THE FIRST TIME IN her life, Kate regretted not being able to tell Corwin the truth about her magic. It had never seemed to matter before. Keeping her wilder abilities a secret was normal, expected, a promise she’d made to her father from the first moment she was old enough to understand that she was different.
“Does Mother know?” a seven-year-old Kate had asked him.
“No, Katie girl,” Hale replied. “She doesn’t. Not about you and not about me.”
“Isn’t that a lie?” Kate wrinkled her nose. “I’m not supposed to lie.”
“It’s not a lie when the truth would hurt the ones we love. Not telling them is a sacrifice we must make for them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Kate believed him completely, especially once he explained the consequences of being discovered a wilder. She never wanted to be taken away from her father by those masked people.
But what happens when not telling the truth might put them in more danger than telling them? Kate wondered. There’d been something wrong in the Wandering Woods that day when they’d returned to search for the drakes. The moment Kate stepped through the trees, she felt cut off from her magic. Not like at night, when it vanished completely, but as if there was something standing between her and it. Something blocking it. Or someone.
She longed to tell Corwin, but couldn’t find a way to do so without revealing her secret. She didn’t see how she could ever tell him she was a wilder, especially not now with the growing threat of the Rising. She’d never experienced such open hatred for wilders before. Fear, yes, but not hate. The risk of what Corwin would do—what he would be compelled to do—if he learned the truth about her seemed greater than ever, now that he might finally become the next king. Although there was no clear winner in the first uror trial, he had done well. She’d seen it, felt it. Everyone present had. Watching the two princes inside that unnatural mist had been strange, almost like watching a dream—their shapes and those they battled, indistinct and confused. But of the two, Corwin’s image had been clearer somehow, almost brighter.
Still, the temptation to tell him kept getting stronger. In the two weeks since the first trial, Kate had spent nearly every morning with him. He kept showing up at her door with sweet rolls and an invitation to ride or sometimes just to walk in the gardens or along the ramparts. Even worse, she felt her instinct to stay away from him weakening each day. Instead, she found herself longing to see him. She savored every time he touched her, which he did often, always finding some excuse to place his fingers on her shoulder or back or to tug at her hand. And just yesterday, it even seemed for a moment that he was about to kiss her. The disappointment she felt afterward bothered her even now.
It has to end. She needed to uncover her father’s secrets soon, before Norgard became too much like home again—and before she once more set her heart on someone who could never be hers.
If only she could figure out how. It wasn’t like she could just march into the Sacred Sword and demand they tell her. She barely knew what questions to ask. And going inside to snoop wasn’t going to be easy either. She’d spent enough time these last few weeks observing the comings and goings outside the brothel to know that she would stand out like a mule in a herd of warhorses. She was sure that she wouldn’t seem as natural as the women she saw frequenting the place, and Kate doubted she would be able to score a job. She didn’t have any of the skills such an establishment would require. Besides, even if she did, she was too recognizable. Not a day went by that she didn’t hear whispers of Traitor Kate following her at every turn. Still, there must be some solution; she just needed to find it.
“How would you do it?” Kate asked Signe while they were out riding one morning. Corwin had been busy the last two days with high council business, and Kate enlisted Signe’s help in taking the horses out for a much-needed hack in the countryside.
Signe cocked her head in consideration. “My mother says there are two ways to always get a garro to talk. Fear of pain or love of money.”
“Garro?” Kate said, leaning forward to shoo a fly off Firedancer’s neck.
“There is no exact word to translate. But it means anyone not born to the islands.”
Kate looked over at her friend, grinning. She found the idea both absurd and slightly offensive. “Are you trying to say that no one from Esh would ever divulge a secret?”
Signe nodded, her expression solemn, and she seemed to sit up a little straighter in the saddle. “We call it Seerah. It is the holy silence. There is nothing more important to us than keeping it.”
A dozen questions came to Kate, but she didn’t get the chance to ask any of them, as she and Signe rode into the stable yard at Norgard castle to find Dal waiting for them. Well, waiting for Signe.
“How would you like to take a trip to Tyvald with me?” Dal asked her, a devilish grin spilling over his face. With him was his falcon, Lir, the bird hooded and perched on his shoulder. “Just for a few days. Corwin’s asked me to look into a daydrake sighting.”
Kate sighed at this news, her guilt over not telling Corwin what she’d sensed that day in the Wandering Woods prickling inside her. These daydrake attacks were getting worse, and Tyvald was close, only a day’s journey away. She wondered why Corwin would want Dal to look into it in person, but could only guess it was something bad.
Signe regarded Dal coolly, although Kate knew it was just pretense. So did Dal, but he enjoyed the game.
“I can certainly spare a few days,” Signe said drily, “but you must promise me excitement and adventure.”
Kate closed her eyes as Signe’s words reminded her of yet another worry. As it was, Signe could spare a lot more than a few days. There was little for her to do until Bonner finally succeeded in making his revolvers. In the month they’d been here, he’d produced only one. If he didn’t start to make progress soon, Corwin and the high council were bound to start asking why. Bonner was already beginning to cave to the pressure, taking more and more risks with his magic. The increasing daydrake attacks only fueled his desperation.
“My sweet lady,” Dal said, taking Signe’s hand and kissing it, “I swear that you’ll fight to catch your breath at every moment.”
Signe giggled, an uncharacteristic sound that told Kate better than any words that her friend had strong feelings for Dal. She couldn’t help the sharp stab of envy she felt at the knowledge. Love is so easy for some. Not that she begrudged Signe her happiness.
While Signe went off to pack, Kate dropped in on Bonner in his new workshop and was glad to see his father was there. Thomas Bonner was short and slight, all the stoutness he possessed from the hard life of a blacksmith withered away by the wasting disease. Although father and son looked nothing alike—to be expected, as Bonner was adopted—they were just alike in manner, sharing a kind and hopeful nature that Kate never failed to find refreshing.
“Ah, Miss Kate,” Thomas said, brightening at the sight of her. He pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight. Kate was glad to feel the strength in him. He’d been in Norgard only a week, but already she could see his health was improving thanks to green-robe magic. “I’d just come to fetch Tommy for lunch. He’d work himself to death if I didn’t. Won’t you join us?”
Kate stifled a grin at the look of annoyance that crossed Bonner’s face whenever his father called him Tommy—the only person permitted to do so.
“I would love to,” Kate said, kissing the man on the cheek. She could use the distraction from her troubles, if only for a little while. With Thomas there, she couldn’t discuss any of her concerns about Bonner’s use of his wilder magic. Thomas didn’t know this truth about his adopted son, another lie kept to protect a loved one.
Still, all too soon, lunch was over and Kate found herself alone in her room, her doubts and worries pressing down on her harder than before. She couldn’t do anything to help Bonner, but Signe’s words about how to get someone to talk had given her an idea. All she needed was enough coin and the right disguise.
And enough courage to go through with it, Kate thought, looking at her image in the mirror the following night. It had taken her hours to assemble the disguise, and even now she wasn’t quite certain she looked enough like a young man to get away with it. She wore her loosest-fitting breeches, tall boots, and a red velvet doublet that she’d found stowed in a trunk in Signe’s room. Kate felt guilty about going through her things, but her need was too great not to, and the doublet far too perfect.
Although she didn’t quite recognize the cut and pattern of the clothing, it had clearly been made for a grown man. He’d been taller than Kate but not much wider, which meant the jacket hung just past her hips, helping hide her feminine shape. Even more perfect, the buttons lining the front of it were made of rubies the size of her thumb, a fortune that had left Kate dumbstruck when she first spotted it. She longed to know the story of why Signe kept it, but doubted she would get the real one even if she asked. She worried about wearing it in public but in the end decided that if she was going to buy the information she needed, it was best to look wealthy enough to afford it.
I’ll put it back when I’m done, and she’ll never know, Kate silently swore as she slid a cowl on to hide the bulge of her hair, pinned to the back of her head.
Finally, she picked up her bag of coins and a jeweled dagger Corwin had given her a few days before—another gift for saving him—and tucked them into her belt. She had to wear the belt loose to avoid revealing too much, but after a moment’s adjustment she was ready to go.
Walking, it took her nearly an hour to reach the Burnside district. She would’ve liked to ride, but she didn’t want anyone in the castle seeing her like this. Sneaking out the servants’ entrance was a lot easier than through the front gates, as she would have had to on horseback. Besides, she didn’t like the idea of leaving Firedancer unattended in such a rough area.
At this time of night, the street out front of the Sacred Sword buzzed with people, mostly men coming in and out of the taverns, gaming houses, and other brothels. Kate supposed the crowd was one of the drawbacks of the high king’s edict that all such establishments be kept to one district. People came from all over Norgard to indulge their sins here.
Doing her best to walk like a boy, Kate stepped onto the porch in front of the entrance and nodded at the guards. Above their heads hung a carved wooden sign bearing the brothel’s name written beneath a sword being drawn from a sheath with a red rose entwined around it.
The guards ignored her, and she walked by with a sigh of relief. Beyond the door was an antechamber with three archways leading to interior rooms. Gauzy curtains covered the ones to the right and left. Through the center archway, Kate saw the tavern portion of the establishment, an assortment of tables in different sizes and shapes, most of them occupied. In the middle of the room stood a low platform where several musicians played while two scantily dressed women danced in slow, seductive circles.
Kate pulled her gaze away only to find two more such women standing by a podium set between the archways. Both wore cropped bodices that left their midriffs bared, their moonbelts clearly visible. They eyed Kate with matching dubious expressions.
“Can I help you?”
Kate cleared her throat, then in the deepest voice she could manage said, “A table, please. For now.” She waited, breath held as she braced to be turned away.
The woman on the left stepped around the podium. “Follow me.”
Letting out her breath slowly, Kate followed the woman into the room. She felt eyes on her as she sat down at an empty table far in the corner. Resisting the urge to fidget with the doublet as it rode up too high on her neck, she surveyed the room. Any one of these people might have the information she needed.
The serving girl who arrived a few minutes later was easily the homeliest of the workers Kate had seen. Too thin, with lank brown hair and small breasts, she stared down at Kate with a pinched expression. “What can I bring you?”
Kate ordered the fish with mushrooms and roasted potatoes and a cup of the house wine. While she spoke, she made a show of removing her money purse and placing it on the table, coins jangling. Thank the gods she’d amassed enough valens since she’d started working as Corwin’s horse trainer to make an impression. It helped that she had nothing to spend the money on, all her basic needs provided by the castle. The truth of this sat uncomfortably in her mind. She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone, Corwin least of all.
When the serving girl returned, Kate paid her double the price of the food and drink. The girl scooped it up eagerly, her earlier annoyance tucked behind a veneer of greed.
“But come back often,” Kate said before the girl walked away. “I will need more to drink.” She held up the cup in emphasis, then took a long swallow. The bitter taste burned her throat, but she managed not to cough.
After weeks of meals prepared in the royal kitchens, she found the fish barely edible, too salty and dry. Kate ate it anyway, using the excuse of each bite to observe the activity in the room. She tried to picture her father in this place but failed at every turn. Most of the men were high on alcohol or sex or both. In some ways she thought she’d rather be facing a pack of drakes again.
When the serving girl returned to the table sometime later, Kate ordered more wine, again paying double for it.
“What is your name?” Kate said, handing over the coins.
The annoyance reappeared on the girl’s face. “Janelle.”
Sensing her resistance, Kate slid over another coin. “Have you been working here long, Janelle?”
The girl shrugged. She was younger than Kate first thought, her thinness and frown lines falsely aging her. “Few years.”
Hoping she was telling the truth, Kate asked, “Do you remember a man who used to come here often about three years ago? Tall, with black hair and brown eyes.”
Janelle huffed as she picked up the coin. “Sure, I remember him. He’s just like that man over there or that one. They’re all the same, don’t you know.” She pointed at several nearby tables, and it was all Kate could do to keep from grabbing the girl’s arm and pulling it down, the idiot.
“This man was slight of build. A horseman. He worked at the royal stables.”
The girl started to shake her head, but then understanding dawned on her face. “Do you mean Hale Brighton, the traitor?” She practically shouted the name.
“Yes.” Kate gestured for the girl to lower her voice.
Janelle put her hands on her hips. “Why you want to know about him?”
Kate blinked, the question taking her by surprise. She’d been so focused on a convincing disguise, she’d forgotten to work out a convincing story.
“Uh . . . just . . . curiosity. I mean, he’s famous. Or infamous, rather.”
“I don’t think so.” Janelle turned and walked away.
Kate watched her go, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Janelle headed to the front of the room and began speaking to a matronly woman standing by the door into the kitchens. She wore her gray hair piled on top of her head in an intricate coiffure, and not an inch of bare skin showed below her neck—the mistress here, Kate guessed.
In moments, she realized that her innocent question wasn’t being taken so innocently. Everyone around her was whispering now. Some were pointing. The mistress started a slow, measured walk toward her. Kate reached for her wine, feeling an urge to fidget, but she held back, afraid she would spill it. It wasn’t just fear rising up in her but anticipation. If anyone would know why her father was making such large payments to this place, surely it was the person in charge.
The woman stopped at Kate’s table. “I am Madam Anise. Are you enjoying the wine? The food?”
Kate nodded, once, twice.
“Good, that’s good.” Anise folded her hands in front of her. “And will you be partaking in any of our other services this evening?”
With warmth spreading up her neck, Kate shook her head.
“I see. Then as soon as you’re done with that wine, I can expect you to take your leave, yes?”
Kate gritted her teeth. This was not how it was supposed to go. With a defiant look she said, “I might have another, and another after that.”
Anise leaned forward now, and Kate could see she was a tall woman, strong of body and even stronger of will. “I don’t believe you shall.”
Kate searched for a response, but before she could think of one, a man at a nearby table stood up and stumbled toward them. His long, bushy beard glistened with spilled wine, the smell of alcohol coming off him in nauseating waves.
“Who’s this girl trying to pass for a boy? It’s that Traitor Kate, ain’t it, Anise?”
The madam turned a shriveling look on the man. “What she is, Boyle, is a paying customer. Now go back to your drink. Or would you like me to send for Kristiana?”
The man Boyle made a quick retreat, but it didn’t matter. Others were approaching. Searching for a quick exit in case she needed one, Kate’s eyes fell on a familiar face across the room. The sight of that red stain across the man’s nose and cheeks, mark of the Shade Born, sent a clench of fear through her stomach. In the four weeks she’d been here, she hadn’t forgotten Master Raith’s threatening words to her. Now here he was sitting at a table a few yards away. For some reason he wasn’t wearing his mask or robes, which was why she hadn’t noticed him before. He’d seen her, too, but a second later, he passed out of view as Kate found herself surrounded by a group of hostile men.
“Get up, girl,” Anise said, her voice brooking no argument.
Kate stood, and Anise took hold of her arm, escorting her past the men. Her grip felt like a vise. Kate tried to pull free but couldn’t.
“Let me go,” she said as they passed through the archway back into the entrance. “I have questions. I’m not leaving until I get answers.”
“Be quiet, you stupid girl. Do you want every person in this place to learn why you’re here?”
Kate’s mouth fell open, outrage surging through her before reason asserted itself. She was making a scene, revealing her business to people who wished her harm. And that included Raith, a man who already knew her most dangerous secret. She clamped her mouth shut and stopped struggling. But Anise didn’t let go. She dragged Kate through a narrow door into a small room Kate hadn’t noticed when she first came in. It was a private office, barely big enough to hold the narrow desk and two chairs, one on each side.
“Sit.” Anise pushed Kate toward the nearest chair. She closed the door behind them before swinging to face Kate again. “Why did you come here?”
Kate debated a lie but knew she only had this one chance to get what she wanted. “My father, Hale Brighton, made regular, large, and secret payments to this establishment during the last three years of his life. I want to know why.”
Anise folded her arms over her chest. “How exactly do you know he did this?”
“A ledger. It’s in his handwriting, and the Sacred Sword is clearly marked.”
Anise’s nostrils flared, and she looked ready to stab something. But when she spoke again, her voice was low and calm, another command. “Come back tomorrow morning. First thing. Don’t tell anyone. Wear the cowl again, but not that ridiculous doublet, and make sure you aren’t followed. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “But—”
Anise silenced her with another look. Then she opened the door and called to one of the girls by the podium. “Escort our guest outside through the back.”
Kate followed the girl down the hallway on the left, her head swimming over what had just happened. Doors lined one side of the hallway, most of them shut. One that wasn’t revealed a small, lavishly decorated bedroom inside. Glimpsing it, Kate turned her gaze to the front and didn’t look again into any of the other rooms.
The hallway ended in a door that led to a dark, litter-strewn alley. Once outside, Kate hesitated a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust, then turned left, in search of a way back to the main road.
Moments later, she stepped out onto the street not far from the entrance to the Sacred Sword. She took a deep breath, glancing at the doorway. Fear and anticipation coiled inside her like two snakes ready to strike. She would never be able to sleep tonight, when in just a few hours she would learn the truth about her father. Not even Raith’s appearance could dampen her relief. I’ll run away if I have to, once I know—
A group of men exited the Sacred Sword, some of those who had threatened her just moments before.
“There she is,” one of them shouted, pointing. “There’s that Traitor Kate.”
Kate spun and hurried down the street, straightening the cowl over her hair. There was still a crowd, and she should be able to lose them in it. With their shouts chasing after her, Kate picked up the pace.
They will get tired of the game soon, she told herself. But the crowd was thinning out ahead, and still they followed. Spying an alley, Kate darted down it, breaking into a run. She would lose them easily now. The alley dumped her onto a quiet street, nearly deserted this time of night. The lamps in the streetlights were dim, the oil almost burned out, but the moon was full overhead, the silvery light glistening against the cobblestones.
Kate slowed to a jog, making sure of her location. She didn’t want to get lost out here. This street seemed to run parallel to the one she’d left behind. If she followed it long enough, she could cross back over, then find her way to the castle.
Two men stepped out of the darkness at the intersection ahead, and Kate froze, recognizing their faces. They were huffing from the exertion of getting in front of her to cut her off. She spun around, only to find the other three were here now, too, cornering her on the narrow street. Drawing her dagger, Kate faced the first two. They would be easier to get past. She couldn’t stand and fight, not with so many of them and her only weapon a dagger.
Steeling herself, Kate darted forward and made a quick slash with the dagger. She took the first man by surprise, slicing his forearm. He stumbled sideways, and she surged through the opening. But before she made it past, a hand seized her. The others had caught up, moving faster than she’d anticipated. Fingers closed around her upper arm, yanking her back. Kate lost her balance and the dagger flew from her hand. Spinning toward her attacker, she let fly a wild punch. It landed on the man’s chest. He puffed out a breath but didn’t let go. Stupid, Kate. Aim higher. For the throat.
She tried, but more hands seized her. She struggled but couldn’t break free, not under such a coordinated attack, not against men whose purpose wasn’t to fight but to subdue.
“Let me go!” Kate screamed. “Let me go!” She began to flail, throwing all her strength into it.
“Now, now, there’s no point in fighting,” one of them said. “We just want to see justice served. It’s not right for a traitor’s daughter to have such trinkets, even if you are favored by that fool Corwin. Good thing the Errant Prince isn’t here to protect you now.” The man grabbed at one of the ruby buttons on her doublet and pulled it off.
“You’re a thief,” Kate said. “This has nothing to do with my father.” She kicked out, striking the man on the wrist. Yelping, he dropped the ruby, and Kate kicked again.
The man stepped back, out of reach. “Make her pay for that one, John.”
A big man, easily the largest of the group, approached her, his right hand balled into a fist. Kate kicked out at him, struggling harder than ever to free herself. John deflected the kick with one hand and landed a punch with the other. It struck her belly, robbing her of the ability to breathe, let alone scream. She wanted to curl inward, to ease the pain rippling through her, but the cruel hands holding her kept her upright. The man called John struck her again, then stepped aside, letting the first man have a go at her. He kicked her in the side of her leg, and agony lit up her body all the way to her teeth. The next moment all of them were coming at her, raining down blows.
Kate felt her consciousness slipping but fought to stay awake. She had to keep fighting. These men wouldn’t stop until they killed her. Forcing her eyes open, she saw moonlight spilling over her, bright as the day.
Summoning all the strength she possessed and more, Kate sucked air into her lungs, then screamed, “LET ME GO!”
More than just words filled the command. Somehow, impossibly, she invoked her wilder magic. It was the deepest part of her, the truest part—and it refused to surrender. The magic swept out from her like an explosion. The men holding her stumbled back, dazed and reeling.
Realizing she was free, Kate scrambled to her feet and ran.