“KATE!” CORWIN CRIED, RUSHING TO where she’d fallen. He glared over at Maestra Vikas. “What did you do?”
“Step away from her, your highness,” Vikas replied coolly. “She is a wilder, I’m certain of it.”
It was true, Corwin knew it beyond doubt, and yet this woman was head of the gold order. He couldn’t just hand Kate over to her. “What are you talking about? This is madness.”
“Is it?” Vikas approached and reached toward Kate. Corwin tried to push her away, but the maestra moved as quickly as a snake striking. She pulled on the leather cord Kate had been wearing about her neck, revealing the glowing diamond that had been hidden beneath her shirt.
Vikas stood and held up the magestone necklace for all to see. “Then how do you explain this?”
“It’s a magestone,” Corwin said, scowling. “Made with mage magic, not a wilder’s.”
Ignoring him, Vikas turned to Storr. “This is what I warned you about, grand master. It’s a spell designed to hide wilder magic.”
Storr stared at it, frowning. Corwin remembered Kate’s shouted accusation that the grand master had killed her father. Someone set a trap, she’d also said. Someone had known Hale would try to use his sway to change King Orwin’s mind about the Inquisition—and Storr had been behind it from the beginning. But would he go so far as to manipulate my father?
Yes. A hundred times yes.
And yet Corwin couldn’t understand it. What did the grand master gain by the Inquisition? There had to be something. Corwin had never seen Storr do anything that wasn’t politically motivated.
“I’ve never seen a spell like this,” Storr said, taking the magestone from Vikas and examining it. He sounded genuinely puzzled—vexed even. He glanced at Corwin, then turned to Edwin, his expression now grave. “It’s treason to harbor a wilder, your highness.”
Corwin drew a sharp breath. Treason. The notion was absurd, ridiculous—and yet true, according to the law.
Edwin stared at the grand master, his expression torn. His eyes flicked to Kate, then up to Corwin. “Did you know it, brother? What she is?”
A chill crept down Corwin’s spine at the disbelief in Edwin’s voice and the betrayal already rising in his expression. “Kate isn’t a criminal, Edwin. No matter what they say.”
Anger steadied Edwin’s voice. “I didn’t ask if she is a criminal but if she is a wilder. And if you knew.”
“She’s not a wilder,” Corwin said, embracing the lie to protect Kate from the hatred he sensed in Edwin. One that had been there since the day their mother died. “She is innocent.”
“You’re lying, Corwin. You forget how well I know you. You can’t lie to me.” Edwin cut his eyes to Master Storr. “What happens now?”
“Knowingly harboring a wilder is treason, as I said.”
Corwin’s hands clenched into fists. “You can’t be serious. I’m the high prince and nothing happened here.” He gestured to his father, who had remained as still and silent as ever.
Vikas shook her head, a cold glint in her gray eyes. “Your rank doesn’t matter, your highness. Not here. Not in this.” She took a step toward him. “You are under arrest, Prince Corwin, for willfully harboring a wilder and allowing that wilder to use magic against the high king.”
Corwin held his ground, his gaze fixed on the mace in the maestra’s hands. “We’re in the middle of an uror.” He waved at Edwin. “Help me. I’m your brother. You can’t let them do this.”
For a second, doubt flicked across Edwin’s face. But just as quickly it was gone. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “As you said, Corwin, I’m not the high king. Not yet.”
Corwin flinched at having his words thrown back at him. For a moment, he considered fighting his way free. But he’d brought no weapons with him, and he’d already seen how effective Vikas could be with her mace. He couldn’t fight this. Not here. Not yet. The charges won’t stand, he told himself, not once the council and the high priestess have their say. The uror trial must be completed—the laws of man could not interfere with the laws of the gods.
Corwin raised his hands in surrender and stepped away from Kate. A few minutes later, he was being escorted back to his quarters by a pair of guards and a gold robe Vikas had summoned.
“What will happen to Kate?” Corwin asked the gold master magist.
“The same that happens to all wilders, once caught,” the man replied. Although the full mask he wore hid his expression, there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice. Flakes of ice seemed to slither down Corwin’s back. The golds would take her to their house outside the city to perform the Purging, same as they did with any wilder. He didn’t know what all it involved, but the word conjured gruesome images in his mind. Afterward, the golds would put her to death and bury her body in an unmarked grave as a final act of condemnation.
With panic bubbling up inside his chest, Corwin eyed the pistol hanging on the belt of the guard in front of him. It wasn’t a revolver, but the single shot might be enough for him to escape. Only once again he remembered the power Maestra Vikas had demonstrated. The gold carried his mace in hand, ready to use at the first sign of resistance.
Taking a deep breath, Corwin pushed the urge to fight aside. The time would come to escape. He just needed to wait for it.
And wait he did. For two whole days.
The silence and isolation proved maddening. For hours on end, Corwin spoke to no one and did nothing other than pace his rooms and search in vain for an escape. There was only the one door, guarded now and with the lock on it reversed. Several large windows offered pleasant views, but the drop to the ground would cripple even the strongest man. There was no making a rope either. After the guards led him in, the gold combed through the rooms, removing any possible weapon or tool. Corwin was left all the comforts he could want—clothes, a soft bed, hot running water—but the place was no less a prison.
Even worse was that no one had been allowed in to see him, save the servants who brought him his meals. Dal tried at least twice, arguing loudly with both the guards and the golds, but to no avail.
Worst of all, Corwin worried for Kate. Where was she? How long did she have before they began the Purging? He didn’t know. He’d willfully kept himself in ignorance about the Inquisition and its ways, choosing not to question too closely, nor to think too deeply. In hindsight it seemed obvious that he’d always understood that imprisoning people who had committed no crime was wrong, despite what they might do. Might or might never. How many innocents had been put to death already?
Kate could be the next. Oh gods, let me out of here! But the gods seemed unconcerned with his troubles.
Finally, desperate to do something besides wait, Corwin went to his desk and sat down. The map of the daydrake attacks he’d been keeping lay open before him. He stared at it, suddenly remembering Ralph Marcel. He’d been caught by the Inquisition, same as Kate, yet he’d escaped somehow. And that woman in Tyvald had claimed to Dal that she’d spotted another captured wilder running free.
Could there really be two? Corwin had seen enough of the gold-order houses from the outside to guess that escape wouldn’t be easy. The golds were like highly trained soldiers, fervent in their handling of wilders, and once collared, the wilders couldn’t use their magic, as he’d seen with that boy in Andreas. Even the boy’s mother had failed to harm the other magists when she attacked them. Kate’s chances of escape seemed impossible.
Then how had those others done it? Corwin opened the desk drawer where he’d stowed the letter from the golds in Andreas. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it, useless as it was, but now he read over it again, carefully studying it. It didn’t tell him anything new, except, when he examined the golds’ official seal, he saw it bore the outline of the grand master’s profile.
The arrogance. There could be no doubt Storr was the champion behind the Inquisition. Was there no limit to the man’s ambition? Did he think himself a king?
Yes, Corwin thought, answering his own question. Then a terrible truth dawned in his mind—perhaps Ralph Marcel and the others hadn’t escaped the golds at all. What if instead, the golds—led by the grand master—were using their powers for their own gain? Controlling the daydrakes . . .
The idea seemed absurd at first, but then Corwin saw the brilliance of it. Everything that had happened since the appearance of the daydrakes and the attack on the Gregors’ manor had only served to increase the League’s power. It had given Storr more and more leverage in high council meetings and had surely fattened the League’s coffers. Corwin examined the map of the attacks. The League’s involvement would explain how widespread they’d been, as well.
Corwin crumpled up the letter, venting his frustration. Something had to be done, but he was stuck in here. A prisoner—all thanks to Storr.
The sound of a key rattling pulled Corwin out of his angry reverie. He turned in time to see the door swing open and Edwin step inside.
“Edwin, thank the gods you’re here.” Corwin rose from the desk, his anger at his brother momentarily forgotten in his need for answers. “I think—” He broke off at one look at Edwin’s cold expression. Only then did he remember how close his brother had become with the grand master. They were confidants. Friends.
He won’t believe me without proof. Especially now that he thinks I’m a traitor. Anger surged inside Corwin. He ought to believe me first, though. We’re brothers.
And yet they weren’t. Thanks to the uror. Dal was more a brother to him.
Wordlessly, Edwin crossed the room to the table where the remnants of Corwin’s meal sat mostly uneaten. He poured a fresh cup of wine and took a deep drink before facing Corwin once more.
“Do you remember what it sounded like? Every time she took a breath?”
At once, Corwin’s anger went cold inside him, knowing exactly which she his brother referred to. Of course he remembered. It was a sound he would never forget, each in and out of her lungs a strained, wheezing rattle. For days after the trampling his mother lingered, fighting to live, to breathe.
“I remember.”
Edwin set down the cup hard, some of the wine sloshing over the side. “Do you truly? I find it hard to believe when you dishonor her memory so easily.”
Corwin glanced out the window, guilt prickling down his skin. His brother had always been good at making him feel wrong, even when he wasn’t. He pictured his mother’s face. The people had called her Queen Imogen the Gentle. He blamed himself for her death, but he also knew deep inside that she would’ve forgiven him for what happened. To let Edwin use her as a weapon against him now seemed the true dishonoring of her memory.
Corwin turned back to his brother. “My business with Kate has nothing to do with what happened to Mother.”
“She’s a wilder,” Edwin said. “And you knew. You’ve probably always known.”
Corwin fought to remain calm. “So what if I did? Kate hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Perhaps not yet. But what happens when she does? What excuses will you give the innocents harmed by her powers?”
“Kate would never—”
Edwin cut him off with a raised hand. “She is still dangerous. All wilders are. Their magic has been outlawed these last two hundred years. We can’t make exceptions now.”
Two hundred years is a long time, Corwin thought. He saw Kate as she’d looked when she told him the truth about her magic at last, her wariness, her hope. It’s simply a part of me, she had said. She’d been born with this ability. Condemned at birth. All because of the law.
“Kate is not dangerous, wilder or no,” Corwin said, resolute. “She doesn’t deserve to be condemned for something she’s never done.”
Scorn twisted Edwin’s features. “And will you make the same exception for all the wilders?”
Corwin didn’t answer. He didn’t know. It was like the Sevan soldier he’d let go free. If Dal was right, the boy had simply fled, embracing his freedom. Corwin couldn’t be certain of what he hadn’t witnessed. But he also couldn’t deny that the version he believed was equally possible. It was the same with the other wilders. They did pose a danger; they might cause harm. He shook his head, incapable of knowing the right answer to such a complicated problem. In the end all he knew for certain was that he loved Kate, no matter what she was.
And Storr must be stopped. The League held too much power, just as Kate had claimed that night in Jade Forest.
“The wilders we condemn,” Corwin said, “they are born citizens of Rime, same as you and me.”
Edwin swore. “I hope you lose the uror, Corwin. You don’t deserve to win. Not if you believe that.” Hatred black as coal and hot as fire sizzled in his words, and Corwin took an involuntary step backward, stunned by the depth of it.
“How can you hate so . . . so expansively?” Corwin said on a gasp.
“How can you not?”
All the ways Corwin could respond, all the arguments he could make, came and went through his mind. There was no arguing with this sort of belief. It was a battle that could only be fought from within. He’d learned it firsthand, in the months after his mother died as his own hate raged inside him until he finally realized he had to let it go or it would consume him forever. Pity rose up in Corwin at what it must be like for his brother to have lived with such hate for so long, to let it burn him up from the inside out.
He sighed in defeat. “Why are you here, Edwin?”
Scowling, Edwin swore again, then said through clenched teeth, “You have been granted a reprieve. It seems that despite your actions, you are bound by the goddess to complete the uror.” He paused, a cold smile passing quickly over his face now. “I suppose it’s for the best. When you fail, then the whole kingdom will know for certain which of us deserves to be king.”
Corwin didn’t reply, refusing to take the bait.
“You are allowed to resume your normal duties,” Edwin continued, assuming a civil tone, the kind he reserved for speaking to the public or the high council. “But you’ve been assigned a gold-robe guard. He’s waiting outside. He’s to stay with you wherever you go to make sure you don’t conspire further with any more wilders.”
Corwin balled his hands into fists, despising the idea of a guard, as if he were a child in need of a nanny. “I didn’t conspire to do anything.”
“It’s too late for your lies, Corwin. Besides, I should probably thank you for the damage you’ve done. The courtiers are already cursing your name.”
“What? Why?”
That cold smile flashed again. “Because with the discovery of the high prince aiding a wilder, the gold robes have been conducting an extensive search for more guilty parties here in the castle.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “Hardly. Maestra Vikas has exposed Bonner as a wilder as well. He’s been wearing the same diamond magestone we found on Kate to disguise the fact that he’s an earthist.”
Corwin gaped, disbelief pounding in his temple. No, it couldn’t be.
A smug look rose in Edwin’s gaze. “Apparently, his power allows him to manipulate metals. That’s how he’s been making the revolvers.”
The truth struck Corwin like a fist to the gut. It made too much sense, explained why only the revolvers he’d forged personally had worked in the beginning. “I didn’t know Bonner was a wilder.”
“I suppose you didn’t know that Kate is a part of the Rising either?” Edwin bared his teeth in a sneer. “Yes, that’s right. They’ve been headquartered right here in Norgard all this time, in the basement of a brothel, of all places. The golds arrested more than twenty yesterday and killed several more during the raid.”
Corwin’s mind spun at this news, his insides stinging at the betrayal of it. He couldn’t believe it. No wonder Kate had been bound to secrecy over what she’d discovered there. He didn’t have to ask the name of the brothel to know it was the Sacred Sword. And yet Raith must have been the one to cast that spell, which meant he was a part of the Rising, too.
“Although, ironically, we have you to thank for the discovery,” Edwin said. “If you hadn’t asked the guard-tower captain to record Kate’s comings and goings, the golds might never have found them.”
What have I done? Corwin’s stomach clenched.
“Did you plan it?” Edwin said, his narrowed gaze sharp as a knife. “Did you and your wilder friends create the daydrake threat just to give you the opportunity to solve it with your conjured revolvers? Was it all a ruse to win the uror?”
Corwin would’ve laughed at his brother’s insecurity even now, but there was nothing funny about the accusation. Despite the absurdity that he would ever do such a thing, the notion of an heir trying to win the uror by earning the adoration of the people wasn’t farfetched. There were several texts that made the claim that it was this very force—the will of the people—that mattered most in determining the winner. But there was nothing he could say to convince Edwin of his innocence. Not now, not yet. Corwin needed answers, and although the sting of learning Kate was part of the Rising still lanced through him, he refused to give in to it until he learned her reasons. He trusted Kate. Loved her. There had to be an explanation for all of this.
Clearing his throat, Corwin said, “You’ve delivered your message. We have nothing more to discuss.” He motioned to the door, holding his arm out until Edwin left.
Once alone, Corwin took a moment to decide what to do next. He needed to find Master Raith. The man was a magist, which meant he might be loyal to Storr, but he also was connected to the Rising. Either way, he would have some of the answers Corwin needed.