KATE WAITED IN THE MAIN room of her quarters, her heart beating somewhere near her throat. It had been that way ever since she’d snuck into Corwin’s tent and asked him to meet her here. In the hour she’d been waiting for him, she’d considered disappearing at least half a dozen times. She resisted, willing herself to be brave. After seeing what Corwin had gone through during the trial, she felt she could do it. Even if sitting here, waiting to tell him the truth about her magic, felt harder than climbing an impossible maze in the sky.
As the minutes slid by, she reminded herself of all the reasons why she had to tell him the truth. She had to do it for Kiran and for Bonner, for Vianne and Anise, and for the wilders who met at the Sacred Sword, all of them restless with the need for change.
I must do it for myself. That, more than anything, gave her the strength to see it through. She was tired of hiding, tired of lies and secrets. Yes, she was a wilder, but that didn’t make her less. It didn’t make her deserving of such fear and hate. She deserved to be who she was meant to be without judgment and condemnation.
When the knock finally sounded, Kate jumped out of her chair with a jerky movement. Fumbling, she reached for the door and pulled it open. Corwin waited beyond, a nervous smile on his lips.
“May I come in?” he asked after a moment.
Realizing she’d been silent and staring, she stepped back and motioned him through. The moment she pulled the door closed behind her, Corwin took her hand in his. He ran a thumb over the top of her hand, his eyes lowered to the place where their skin met. She froze, uncertain about the touch and the intimacy in his gaze.
“I know you have something to tell me, Kate,” he said in a voice not much more than a whisper, “but there’s something I must tell you first.”
Her breath turned shallow. “What is it?”
Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers, ice like always, and yet blazing. She wanted to step back, frightened by the intensity of his stare, but tension threaded the air between them like strands in a web, holding her in place.
He exhaled and said, “I love you, Kate.”
The words hung in the air, as if caught by the same webbing. Kate stared back at him, too stunned to speak or move at all. They weren’t empty words. This was truth, naked and heavy and free.
“I always have,” he continued, holding her gaze with his, unwavering. “Since we were kids, and even more now that you’ve come back into my life. You’ve refused to be my paramour, and rightly so. I was a fool for even thinking it. You deserve better. You deserve everything you want and more. And I want to give it to you. I finally see the truth you tried to tell me from the start, that the choice is in my grasp. For a while I convinced myself that to be right I had to always follow the path set before me. But I’m learning that’s not true. There is a time to obey, yes, but also a time to make our own rules.”
He paused, as if aware he was starting to ramble. Then he gripped her hand tighter and said, “If I win the uror, I will become king and will decree my own fate. If I lose, I will choose it. Either way, I will choose you. Always.” He paused. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
Kate felt her mouth fall open. She hadn’t expected this. She might’ve wished for it, both back then and maybe even now, but she never expected it. She wondered at the change she’d sensed in him these last few weeks. Perhaps this was the outcome, a slow awakening to the truth. She didn’t know, and at the moment she didn’t care.
She took a step nearer to him, her heart and body demanding a response. She started to reach for him—then pulled back, remembering her own purpose here, the truth that remained veiled between them. She couldn’t be certain he would still feel this way once he knew. All the harsh, stark memories of how he’d reacted to his mother’s death pressed against her thoughts now, and a shiver raced down her spine.
At her silence, Corwin’s hopeful smile faded away, the pain of rejection filling his gaze. “Have you nothing to say?” he asked gently.
She cleared her throat, weighing her words carefully. “I’m glad you’re seeing the truth, but I still haven’t told you what I need to. It might have some bearing.”
“What is it, Kate?”
“Perhaps . . . perhaps you should sit.” She motioned to the chair in front of her father’s desk.
Corwin frowned, worry furrowing his brow. “Why are you afraid?”
“Please, Corwin. Sit down. It will be easier. For me.”
His frown deepened as he sank onto the chair. She gazed at him for several seconds, battling her fear. If he reacts badly, I can use my sway on him, she told herself, but the idea repulsed her. Sweet goddess, don’t let it come to that.
“What I’m about to tell you might be . . . shocking, to say the least,” she began. “It’s a secret I’ve kept all my life, trusting it only to a very few. And now I’m going to trust it to you.”
Corwin leaned forward, his body tense and his expression mixed. She saw curiosity there, but also hurt. “What is it?”
“First, will you swear not to react right away, but to think about it with an open mind?” This would be the truest test to see if the change in him was real—if he truly believed that sometimes new rules needed to be made and old ones broken.
In answer, Corwin reached for her hands, folding them in his. She felt the scar of his uror mark, warm against her skin. “I swear it on both hands.”
Kate nodded, but still she couldn’t go through with it, the years of secrecy working against her. But then she fixed Kiran’s face in her mind, drawing the strength she needed from it.
“I’m a wilder, Corwin. I have a spirit gift.”
He went still. Utterly. Completely. Even his breathing halted. Kate felt her own breath double, her heart racing. Desperately she wished to take it back, but there was no doing that now.
Corwin let go of her hands and leaned back in the chair. Kate braced, already feeling the pain of his rejection. Slowly, he turned his head toward the window. A faraway look crossed his face, the expression of a man lost in thoughts and memories.
Then just as slowly he turned back to her, not quite meeting her gaze. “It’s animals, isn’t it? You can speak to them, control them.”
“Yes,” Kate said, barely able to respond for the coldness in his voice. “How . . . how do you know?”
He raised a finger to his chin, tracing the scar there. “I saw you use it.” He nodded again, answering his own question. “On the road to Andreas when you saved me from the daydrakes. I didn’t remember until now, but your horse did things no horse should do. It listened to your commands almost as if it were human.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Kate said, trying to find reassurance that so far he was keeping his promise not to react. He seemed calm enough and hadn’t yet shouted for the gold robes to come arrest her. She saw no reason not to go on with the rest of it. He might not be able to love her as a wilder, but at least he would know the truth of who she was. She refused to settle for less now.
In a steadier voice, she said, “My gift allows me to speak mind to mind with animals and even with people. Although I didn’t know about that last part until recently.”
Corwin’s gaze sharpened, and for a second she saw fear there—and also the old hate, like she’d seen hundreds of times after his mother’s death. She couldn’t blame him the fear. She feared her power too, both what she could do with it if she chose and what someone else with the same gift could do to her—if they chose.
It’s always a choice, to do right or wrong, no matter the power.
Emboldened by this truth, Kate said, “What I can do isn’t evil, Corwin. I’ve never hurt anyone and I never will. It’s simply a part of me. An ability I’ve always had. Ever since I was a child.” For a second she considered expanding the argument, to tell him that no wilder was evil by birth. That it was always either choice or circumstance. But she didn’t think it wise to press him.
Several seconds passed, the silence oppressive. Then finally, a wry, uncertain smile crossed his lips. “No wonder you were always so much better with the horses than me.”
Kate didn’t know what to think now, uncertain if he was teasing or being sarcastic. She hoped for the former. She wrinkled her nose, trying to keep things light. “I’ll admit, I did use it to my advantage from time to time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?” Corwin said, and this time she heard the bite in his tone.
She let go a weary sigh. “Can you really not guess my reasons? Wilders have always been hated and feared, even before the Inquisition. My father made me swear never to tell anyone. From the first moment I learned what I could do, he warned me of the risk.” She paused, sensing the uncertainty in Corwin now. He seemed to be walking a tightrope, teetering between acceptance and rejection. Desperately, she reached for a way to push him where she needed him to go. Remember Kiran, she told herself.
“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth for weeks now,” she went on, “ever since we found those drakes in the Wandering Woods.”
Confusion furrowed Corwin’s brow. “Why only then, when you had so much time before?”
She ignored the underlying accusation in his words. “Something was wrong that day, Corwin.” She launched into the story, telling him everything: about how her magic had been sealed off, then later how she’d used her ability to control the drakes at Thornewall. If he could just see the usefulness of wilder magic. The ways it could be used for good, if given the chance.
Corwin took it all in with an expression that wavered between disbelief and awe. “You controlled all the drakes?”
“Yes, but only because of how their minds work. I’ve never felt anything like it before,” Kate replied. “But then again, up until a few weeks ago I used my magic on horses only, and only when it was certain no one would be able to tell. My father ingrained that lesson in my mind so deeply, I didn’t think I would ever be able to break it.”
“Your father.” Corwin’s eyes widened. “He had the same ability, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Kate said, and she flinched backward as Corwin suddenly rose to his feet in a jerky motion.
Again she braced for an explosion, but he only wheeled about and walked over to the window, bracing himself against the frame. She waited where she was, giving him time to sort through his feelings.
At last, Corwin faced her once more, his eyes bright. “You said this magic works on people, too. Does that mean your father might’ve used it on mine? That he caused his illness with his sway?”
Kate felt the color drain from her cheeks at the thought. A few weeks ago she would’ve denied it, would’ve been furious at the insinuation. But now, after all that had happened—both what she herself had learned to do and what she had experienced with that wilder in Thornewall—she couldn’t deny it so easily.
“I don’t know, Corwin,” she said finally. “I don’t think he would’ve done anything like that, and even if he had, I don’t know how it would’ve worked.”
Corwin nodded, one finger worrying at the scar on his chin again.
Kate took a step toward him, her muscles so tense she thought they might snap at every movement. “But I did find out what he was doing at the Sacred Sword.”
“You did? What was it?”
“He—” She stopped herself just in time, feeling a flicker of heat pass over her skin. The curse. It was still on her. She couldn’t tell him about Kiran or the Rising or anything else she’d learned that day.
Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you. There’s magic involved. I was sworn to secrecy with a magist curse.”
Corwin pressed his lips together, hands curling into fists.
“Believe me, Corwin, I want to tell you, but I can’t. Not now. Master Raith will have to—”
“Raith is involved?” Corwin’s body went rigid. “Of course he is.”
Kate raised her hands, trying to calm him. “Yes, but he’ll be able to tell you everything once he’s back from Penlocke.”
Corwin glared down at her, his anger finally arriving, if in a different form than she’d anticipated. “Does this secret concern what happened to my father?”
Kate bit her lip, unsure how to respond, how much was safe to share. She’d never expected the conversation to turn this way. “I can’t answer that, but you’ve got to trust me when I say that no one knows what happened that night between my father and yours. Not me and not Raith either. I wish we did, but we don’t.”
A muscle ticked in Corwin’s jaw. “How can I trust you, Kate? When you’ve kept such things from me all this time?”
“That’s not fair, Corwin. You know it’s not. Wilders are put to death just for being who we are. We’re hunted like animals.” Tears burned in her eyes, all the agony she felt for Kiran and Bonner, for herself, rising to the surface. “But wilder or no, I’m still the same Kate I’ve always been. I’m still me.”
Corwin dropped his gaze, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. He examined the uror mark on his palm, tracing it with a finger. Then, finally, he looked up again, the anger gone from his gaze, his expression solemn.
“You’re right. I can see you had no choice. But you’ve got to understand how this looks, knowing your father could do what you can. There’s no telling what—” Corwin broke off, his features slackening into surprise. Then a wild, eager look rose in his eyes. “But what you’re saying isn’t true. Someone does know what happened.”
“Who?”
“My father. He was there. He saw everything.”
“Well, yes, Corwin,” Kate said, uncertain, “but King Orwin’s not well in the mind. You said it yourself.”
“Yes, I did.” He gestured at her. “But you’ve the power to enter minds. To read the thoughts of people.”
The realization struck Kate like lightning, too shocking to fully comprehend.
“Can you do it?” Corwin said, his reservations about what she could do forgotten for the moment.
“I don’t know.” Her mind spun, just as caught up in the idea. Could it really be that simple? The key to unlocking the mystery, nothing more than using her magic? She nodded to herself, hope filling her like air. “But I’m willing to try.”
“All right,” Corwin said, a slight tremor in his voice and his blue eyes suddenly ablaze. “Let’s do it, then. Maybe we can put this mystery to rest once and forever.”
“Yes,” Kate said, telling herself not to mistake his willingness here as acceptance. But perhaps it was a start. Even if it wasn’t, even if he turned on her later, at least she had this chance to find the truth at last. That made the risk worth it.