THE CARAVAN WAS READY TO leave at dawn the next day. When Kate spotted Corwin in the courtyard, he looked exhausted. Dark smudges circled his eyes, and he moved with a jerky sort of weariness as he mounted Nightbringer. Kate supposed the effort of organizing a group this large so quickly must’ve kept him up half the night. There were twelve blue robes, all handpicked by Raith, and ten Norgard cavalrymen on warhorses, with two more driving the supply wagons.
Everyone bore arms—swords and daggers, as well as ranged weapons, either bow or revolver. There were ten working revolvers in all, carried by Corwin, Signe, Kate, Dal, and six of the cavalrymen. Stuffed in everyone’s pockets and saddlebags were a vast amount of flash stones and the shield stones Raith had promised. Kate felt as if she were riding off to war rather than a rescue mission.
They traveled at a quick, steady pace that first day, the wagons rolling along easily on the smooth, even road. By the second day, they reached rougher ground, the road getting rockier by the mile and the hills more frequent. Although Corwin hoped they would make it there in three days, it soon became clear that four was the best they could manage—unless they wanted to enter the cliffs surrounding Thornewall at dusk and risk the threat of nightdrakes.
Kate passed the time in the saddle practicing her sway. It was difficult at first, her instincts protesting the danger of wielding her magic so openly—and in front of a dozen magists as well, each of them carrying the required detection stone in their maces and only half of them sympathetic to the Rising. But after a while she grew to enjoy the freedom of it. While they were still in open country, she practiced stretching out as far as she could, listening for the minds of humans. Twice she was able to sense the approach of other travelers ahead before they came into view. Best of all though, Dal had brought Lir with him, and she occasionally joined with the falcon’s mind while it flew above the caravan, giving herself the ability to see far and wide and to savor the sensation of flying itself. She could get used to such freedom.
When they made camp each evening, she would join Raith in his tent, and the two of them would discuss in low voices her accomplishments that day. Then they would spend the last hour before nightfall practicing as they had at Norgard, with Kate trying to uncover thoughts while Raith now actively tried to hide from her.
When they stopped for the third day, Corwin called them all together to discuss plans for the morrow. They gathered in the center of camp, where he and Dal had drawn a crude map on the ground using rocks and sticks.
“In the morning,” Corwin said, “we will send out the scouts as planned. Some will go ahead and others will follow behind. However, Lord Dallin believes that if there is to be an ambush, it will happen as we reach this point here.” Corwin indicated a place on the map where the trail became its narrowest. Stacks of large rocks had been laid side by side to indicate the bottleneck.
“It’s called the Serpent’s Pass,” Dal said, sweeping his gaze over the group. “Both because of the way it twists and because of how deadly it can be. In the spring, summer, and fall, there’s always the chance of rockslides. In the winter, avalanche. The horses won’t be able to go much faster than a walk. The ground is too rocky.”
“If there hasn’t been any sign of daydrakes or their handlers by the time we reach this point,” Corwin said, “we will purposefully delay. We don’t want to meet them in the Serpent’s Pass. We’ll stage one of the wagons to appear broken down. Whoever is watching will see us as easy prey, but we won’t be.”
There were murmurs among the men as they digested this news. Corwin allowed them a few moments, then raised his hands for silence. “Now, we need to decide on the scouts.” He began listing the names. Kate waited for hers to be called, but it wasn’t, and upon reaching the end of the roster, Corwin said, “The rest of us will stay with the wagons to defend the supplies and to take down any drakes that come into range.”
Signe leaned toward Kate and said with a hiss, “Does he think we’re mere decorations? I don’t want to guard the wagon.”
“Neither do I,” Kate said. What was worse, it would make it harder for her to detect the drakes’ handlers. She needed isolation to hear clearly with her magic.
When the meeting ended, Raith approached Kate. “We need to change Corwin’s mind,” he whispered.
“Yes, but how, without telling him the truth?”
Raith glanced around the camp as if searching for the answer. “I have an idea. Come with me.”
Kate followed Raith to where Corwin and Dal were spreading out their bedrolls. Despite the crisp air, they’d decided there would be no fires this evening, so as not to tip off any potential enemies.
“Your highness.” Master Raith bowed his head in greeting. “We need to discuss the scouts.”
Corwin looked up, his expression at first surprised, then annoyed, as his eyes fell on Kate before shifting back to the magist. “In what way, Master Raith?”
“I believe Miss Kate would make the best scout. Her skills will be wasted guarding the wagons.”
“So will mine,” said Signe, who, predictably, had come with them.
Dal fixed a stare at Signe. Although he’d pretended to be his usual, lighthearted self these last few days, everyone who knew him could feel the change in him. It was as if he’d been weighed down by an invisible cloak, his jokes slower to come than before, his smiles less liable to linger. Kate hadn’t heard him laugh at all.
“I would prefer,” Dal said, his gaze sliding off Signe’s face to land somewhere near his feet, “that you stay near me.”
Signe openly gaped in response, and Kate cringed at her lack of finesse. Then, to her surprise, Signe closed her mouth and nodded. “If that is what you want.”
Dal looked up, his expression intense. “It is.”
“Good, now that’s settled,” Raith said with a touch of impatience. “But what about Kate? She is the best rider here and should be the first scout. To be honest, she might be the only scout we need. One rider is less liable to be spotted and raise an alarm. Also, with the path so treacherous, no one else has a better chance of getting back to us unscathed if there’s an ambush ahead.”
Corwin stared at the magist, his lips pressed tight together and every muscle in his body rigid.
“He makes a fair point,” Dal said, nodding at Corwin. “Not to mention one scout will mean more here at the ready to join in the fight.”
Kate braced for an angry refusal as Corwin cut his gaze to her. His blue eyes were like ice, coaxing a shiver down her spine.
“Is that what you want, Kate? To ride ahead?” A muscle ticked in Corwin’s jaw as he awaited her response.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The air between them felt charged as if from an approaching storm. The tension caused a flood of memories to rush into her mind of the last time they’d faced each other like this. An ache of desire pulsed through her. She couldn’t help it. When it came to Corwin, her body was its own creature. She looked away first.
“So be it,” she heard Corwin say. “I will discuss it with the others.”
Kate watched him go for a moment, then forcibly pulled her gaze away.
Raith stepped up to her and said, “Go get something to eat and turn in early. There’s not enough daylight left to train, and you need to be rested for the morning.”
With a grateful sigh, she told him thanks, then headed off to find a place to lay down her bedroll. They had stopped for the night less than a furlong from the cliffs, and there were several large boulders scattered throughout the camp. Kate selected a place near one of the biggest, hoping it would shield her from the noise of the soldiers, who she suspected would be up late, too restless for sleep with what waited for them tomorrow.
She untied the bedding and flung it out before her. Bending to straighten it, she froze as a voice said, “Is there something between you and Master Raith?”
Looking up, she saw Corwin leaning against the boulder, his face half hidden in shadow. She slowly rose, letting the full meaning of his question settle in her mind.
“Something between us?” She put her hands on her hips, uncertain if she felt like laughing or hitting him. A little of both, most like.
He nodded, his gaze locked on her face. “I know it’s none of my business, but . . . I can’t keep my head straight around you, and perhaps knowing that you have moved on might . . .” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
Might let me move on, too. For a brief moment she considered giving him a lie to put him out of his misery. But she was tired of lies. They seemed to be growing all around these days like invasive vines, strangling her at every turn. Instead she longed to tell him about herself and about Kiran and what she hoped to accomplish tomorrow. She longed to do what Raith asked of her—to convince him to help bring an end to the Inquisition. The diamond magestone felt like a manacle around her neck.
Carefully, she shook her head. “No, there is nothing like that between Raith and me.” She searched for an explanation, realizing too late that she should’ve anticipated this. Corwin was bound to wonder about what she and Raith were doing all that time they spent together. “We’ve been discussing the drakes and the best way to handle them. That’s all.”
Doubt clouded Corwin’s expression, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Before she knew what she was doing, Kate said, “There’s never been anyone but you, Corwin.” Her bottled-up emotions threatened to burst inside her, and she held them back with a hard swallow.
His eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Never?”
“Not one, not on purpose anyway.”
He seemed to mull this over. “You mean that kiss with Edwin.” Jealousy rang clear in his voice, despite his obvious effort to hide it.
She took pity on him, remembering that she never had offered an explanation. “I thought he was you. I even said your name. I wouldn’t have kissed him otherwise. But you do look alike, and it was dark. I never would’ve hurt you willingly. Edwin tricked me. He tricked us both.”
Corwin gritted his teeth, a muscle flicking in his jaw. “He’s always hated me, hasn’t he?”
Kate started to agree, then stopped. “I think it’s more complicated than that. He loves you, too, but you were never allowed to be mere brothers. The uror made you rivals from the beginning, and your father’s favoritism didn’t help.”
It was strange how the years had given her such clarity, and she felt an unexpected wave of pity for the older Tormane brother, almost enough to make her understand the man he’d become now. She recalled the subtle way Edwin demeaned Corwin at every turn—snide, biting comments about his character, his looks, everything. They’d often been said in jest, but jealousy fueled them. Then after Queen Imogen died, he’d had even more fuel to feed his resentment.
Corwin slowly nodded. “It makes you wonder if there isn’t a better way than the uror.” For a second his gaze turned far away, the look of a man wandering lost in his own thoughts. Then he shook his head and came back to her. “I’m sorry, Kate. I know you would never have hurt me on purpose. I’ve always known. I just let the events of that night cloud my feelings. I suppose I’m always doing that. Even now, it’s easier to think Edwin simply hates me without cause than to admit the cruel circumstances between us. But I suppose I should look for the good in him as well.”
Kate bit her lip, fighting the urge to step closer to Corwin, to comfort him with a touch. Or maybe it was herself she sought comfort for.
His gaze dropped to the rocky ground between them. “I need to stop judging by appearance alone, with just my gut feeling on the matter. Like the way I misjudged you. The assumptions I made about . . .” He trailed off, his eyes flicking to her waist for a moment. The moonbelt wasn’t visible, but they both knew she still wore it. He raised his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry for making that callous offer. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she said, unable to look away, even though she should—before she did something foolish. She pressed her lips together as the temptation to tell him the truth rose up even stronger inside her.
Corwin broke the connection first. “Good. Be careful tomorrow,” he said, and then he disappeared behind the rock.
Regret pricked at her. What a hypocrite she was. How could he not misjudge her when she’d been lying to him for years, keeping her secret? She used to think it was harmless, for his own good, but now she wondered if she hadn’t created the problems between them by her deception, as if by holding herself back she had ensured that they would never truly stand on the same ground. Or maybe the gods were just punishing her for the lie. In the end, neither possibility brought her any comfort.
Kate was distracted the next morning when she rode out ahead of the caravan, her thoughts still on Corwin and their exchange the night before. She believed his apology, but it didn’t change things, as much as she might want it to. He was still the high prince and she the traitor’s daughter.
The wilder.
Should I tell him? Is Raith right? Will it make a difference?
She didn’t know, and she couldn’t stop the questions from cycling through her head. Not until Firedancer gave a sudden spook, nearly jarring her out the saddle. She gasped, heart racing. Then, recovering quickly, she glanced around, looking for the source of the noise that had so startled her horse, only to find nothing.
For Shades’ sake, Kate, what’s wrong with you? She forced thoughts of Corwin from her mind and reached out with her magic. Something must’ve caused the noise, a falling rock perhaps. Only what had made it fall? She swept for the presence of someone else, either human or animal, but found nothing. Perhaps it was the wind. Even now it moaned high above the cliffs that rose up on either side of her.
At least the shock had put her mind back on the task at hand: finding the drakes and their handlers. Urging Firedancer forward, Kate stretched out with her magic again, doing it in sweeps, to the front, the sides, even behind, where she could just make out Corwin and the others.
There were few animals around—a mountain cat, some squirrels, and birds, of course. But nothing else. Not for nearly twenty minutes as she rode along, keeping Firedancer at a walk. Then finally, she sensed it: that oily, multiple-minded presence just ahead. But—it was impossible. There was nowhere for the drakes to be. Nothing but cliff face on both sides and an empty path stretching straight onward. Even still, she slowed Firedancer to a halting walk, her magic telling her one thing and her eyes telling her something else.
When she drew parallel with the drakes, her magic unequivocal, Kate reined Firedancer to a halt. She craned her head back, trying to see if they were above, or if they might be on the other side of the cliff, in a different pass. Yet she couldn’t see how. This was the only path. All the maps said so. She scanned the left wall, searching the cliff face for some explanation of why she could sense them there.
Then she saw the line running down the height of the rock wall, far too straight and precise to be natural. Dismounting, she gave Firedancer a command to stay put. Then she approached the cliff, stretching her hand out toward the line. When her fingers should’ve met stone, all she felt was air. It’s an illusion, Kate realized, her eyes finally making out the lie. There was a passageway hidden here, easily large enough for a horse—or a drake—to pass through.
Pulling out the revolver from the holster at her side, she stepped into the opening. Her heartbeat quickened with each footfall, the drake presence growing stronger. Seeing the end of the passage ahead, she stopped, aware of the mistake she was making. It wasn’t the drakes she was after but the people controlling them. She’d let them distract her with their multiple-minded presence. Pulling away from them, Kate closed her eyes and raised the tenor of her magic, attuning it to that higher, human plane.
Nothing. All she could sense was the distant minds in the caravan. Guessing the drakes must be caged here, as they’d been in the Wandering Woods, she steeled her courage and rounded the corner.
Her breath caught in her throat, awestruck fear rising up in her. Ahead more than fifty daydrakes were crammed into a small gorge cut into the cliffs. There was nothing visibly restraining them, but even when they caught her scent, they didn’t move toward her. Something held them caged in the gorge, which wasn’t a natural formation but a perfect circle as precise as a bullet in shape. Only wilder magic could’ve carved it.
Needing to warn the others, Kate turned around but froze at the sight of a man blocking the path. Short and slight, hardly bigger than herself, he carried a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other. Around his throat shone a black magestone, the magic pulsating dully.
Kate raised her hands in surrender, but the man aimed his pistol, his intent clear. Knowing she had no chance of avoiding the shot at this close range, she seized the only weapon left to her and turned her magic on him. She entered his mind easily, but a moment later, she felt her consciousness flung from his thoughts. She stared at him, dazedly, realizing he had the gift of sway, too.
“Nice try, my little wilder girl,” the man said, and she recognized the slight lilt to his words—he was a native of Penlocke, the port city south of Norgard. “But your skill ain’t close to as strong as mine.”
Maybe not, Kate thought, but I’ve more than one trick to play. Kate called to Firedancer with her magic, urging the horse into a run as she coaxed her into the hidden passageway. The man pulled back the hammer, ready to fire, but he swung around at the sound of hoofbeats. Kate couldn’t use the revolver, afraid of hitting the horse, and so as Firedancer came charging toward them, she pulled a flash stone from her pocket and flung it at the man. The stone exploded in a bright burst, the effect of the magic not affecting her, the one who cast the spell.
The man jumped in alarm, pulling the trigger by accident, but he didn’t fall. He wasn’t even blinded. Somehow he was shielded from the flash stone’s magic. As he turned back to her, Kate saw that the magestone around his throat glowed brighter now. She suddenly remembered what Raith had said—how magics met directly will cancel each other out.
With his only bullet now wasted, the man dropped the pistol and raised his sword. Kate urged Firedancer to safety, quelling the mare’s panic over the flash stone’s effects, while she raised her revolver. Not wanting to kill the man, she aimed for his shoulder and fired. The bullet flew true, and the man dropped the sword as the shot severed his grip. He shrieked in pain, rage flashing in his eyes.
When he lunged for her, Kate fired again. The bullet struck him in the side, but he had too much momentum. He barreled into her, knocking her to the ground. The revolver fell out of her hand and went off, discharging another shot into the air.
The man’s body pressed down on Kate, and she felt the hot stickiness of his blood pooling over her from the wounds in his side and shoulder. He would bleed out soon, but somehow he still had strength enough to wrap his uninjured hand around her throat. Kate tried to pry him off but couldn’t. Panic began to roar inside her, driving away her ability to think. Desperately, she reached for the magestone around his neck and began to twist, hoping to choke him. Terror filled his gaze as he struggled to pull her off. She sensed his emotions now, rage and pain like a tempest inside him.
Aware that he was weakening, Kate focused the strength of her magic and screamed into his mind, Get off me!
He froze, his fingers slackening. It was the moment she needed to free herself enough to reach the gun. But the man recovered all too soon, pushing her out of his mind as he grabbed for the gun as well. They struggled, hands grasping for control of the weapon. It went off with a bang so loud Kate felt it in her teeth. By pure chance, the bullet struck his throat, and blood began to gush from the wound like water from a pump.
He was dying fast—and taking his secrets with him. Desperately, Kate plunged into his thoughts, fighting off the horror of what she was doing. Images flooded her mind, faces of loved ones, regrets, and a terrible soul-deep fear of what was happening to him, his inability to stay when he could feel the life leaving him. Through it all though, she managed to glean a recurring memory at the front of his mind: that he had been arrested by the Inquisition for being a wilder.
And then he was slipping away. . . .
With a cry, Kate pulled back from his thoughts, terrified of what she would feel when the last of his life fled his body. She scrambled out from underneath the dead man and rolled onto her stomach, ready to be sick, then froze in terror at the sight of the drakes moving toward her.
They were free. The man must’ve been controlling them, and now he was dead, his magic broken.
Lurching to her feet, Kate called for Firedancer. She leaped into the saddle, and they raced through the passageway back to the main pass. The drakes surged behind them, their screeching wails loud as rolling thunder.
Kate still had the revolver, two bullets left in the cylinder, but it wouldn’t matter against fifty drakes. She pulled a handful of flash stones out of the pouch on her saddle and flung them behind her, slowing down the first wave of drakes, but the second kept coming. They would be on them soon. Firedancer was galloping, hooves slipping on the loose rocks, but they couldn’t slow down. Kate needed to warn the others.
Reaching out with her magic, she searched for Raith but couldn’t distinguish him among so many, not over such a distance. It didn’t matter though. Their thoughts buzzed with alarm, and she guessed they’d heard the gunfire. Wanting to be sure, Kate raised the pistol overhead and fired off the last two shots. Then she holstered the gun and pulled out the shield stone, activating it with a single word.
She saw the shimmer of magic spread around her, but doubted it would hold against so many drakes. She had to find a way to slow them down before they overtook her. If she could reach the caravan, she would be safe behind the ward. Then the answer came to her—one so simple she’d overlooked it. Her magic. If that other wilder could hold them, so could she. Somehow. But there were so many. More than she had ever tried to control before.
Shoving the doubt away, she focused on the drakes nearest. If she could get them to slow, there might be a ripple effect. She could clog the pass with drakes piling up on one another, maybe even force them to start attacking each other. Grasping hold of those oily, multiple minds, she sent out the command.
Something strange happened. The drakes obeyed her will, but it wasn’t only the ones she touched. She sensed her command echoing over and over again, spreading through the minds of the other drakes like an infection. Stunned, she realized she didn’t have to control them all. If she could reach one, the rest would follow, their will bound together.
A thrill of victory went through Kate. She could end the threat right here, with a single thought. But then the complication of the situation struck her. She couldn’t do that and still keep her secret.
Seeing no other choice, Kate decided to make a ruse of it, a performance with the daydrakes as the actors. She formed the behavior she wanted from them in her mind and sent it out as a command. The drakes sensed and obeyed, the pack racing after her but not attacking, just flashing their fangs and claws, screaming their wails. Their poor, dumb collective minds couldn’t sense the trap waiting for them, didn’t know that the force guiding them was leading them to their deaths.
But the moment Kate charged to safety past the waiting caravan, Corwin and the others opened fire, and one by one the daydrakes fell, unwilling sacrifices on the altar.