Another detail she noticed as they traveled was the increasing number of irrigation canals snaking through the land. Water flowed over beds of granite blocks, well-made smaller versions of the Imperial Canal. They even meandered through villages. Small bridges allowed traffic to cross in several places. Karigan began to wonder if they were actually for irrigation at all, and if not, what were they for? Riding in the rear of the wagon, she was not able to ask Cade. She would try to remember later.

The Imperial Canal skirted around the villages, but the road always rejoined it. Canal traffic grew steadier the deeper they got into the Capital, and though she saw many Inspectors patrolling the streets with their mechanicals, there were no more checkpoints than before. She sank back into the straw and gazed at the clouds above. As the afternoon wore on, they grew thicker, tinged with gray. She could smell rain in the air. Yes, it would rain tonight, but there was something else, a briny tang mixed with it. They were nearing the coast, and Corsa. No—not Corsa, but Gossham. Her Corsa was gone.

That evening, as the first few drops of an incoming storm plunked down on their heads, they had to try a few different inns before they found one with space, much less an entire bunkhouse that Luke could reserve for the night. Karigan pretended sickness as usual, with Cade supporting her all the way. Once securely in the bunkhouse, they were immediately in one another’s arms, kissing like long lost lovers separated by continents and the passing of years, instead of only by the length of a wagon and the passing of a day.

Cade pulled away.

“What is it?” Karigan asked.

“I just want to check in with Luke for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

Before Karigan could question him, he was gone. She decided then to make use of the bath tub with which this bunkhouse was equipped. Even after she finished, however, Cade had not returned. She paced for a while, sampling spoonfuls of the stew that had been left for them. Hers was lukewarm, and Cade’s would be cold before he returned. She had too much restive energy to sit still, so she occupied herself by working through swordfighting forms. She had no sword or staff, not even a broomstick to work with, but it felt good to go through the motions anyway.

She was in the middle of Aspen Leaf when Cade finally returned. She froze.

“Don’t stop,” he said, closing the door quietly behind him.

She continued the series of forms she had begun, and became more than mildly distracted when he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting on her belly.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured into her ear when she hesitated.

Thunder clapped and rain thrummed on the roof. With Cade folded around her, moving through the steps and patterns of the forms with her, the techniques of the swordmaster truly became a dance. His hands roved down her arms, along her waist and hips, and lower, till she could hardly bear it, aching with need.

Using steps all his own, he led her into a different form of the dance, the storm their orchestra.

• • •

Karigan lay contentedly in Cade’s arms once again as rain still pattered on the roof. The bunkhouse interior sprang into relief with flashes of lightning, rumbles of thunder delayed by distance. Cade’s thumb rubbed a scar beneath her ribs, an old sword wound given her during Prince Amilton’s attempted coup of King Zachary’s throne.

“What did you and Luke need to talk about?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Earlier. You said you had to talk to Luke.”

“Oh.” He shifted position, making their narrow bed creak. “Tomorrow we reach Gossham, and I wanted to go over our approach.”

So soon, Karigan thought with dismay. She did not feel prepared. What would they be walking into?

“When we reach the inner city, Luke will find us accommodations and send his letter from Mill City’s master ahead to Webster Silk.”

“And then?”

“And then we wait for a response. Hopefully an invitation to the palace.”

An invitation, she hoped, that would allow her to rescue Lhean. And wring Amberhill’s neck in the process.

“We may not have more than another night together, if even that,” Cade said quietly.

Karigan took the hint and, banishing all else from her mind, gave Cade her full attention.

• • •

They did not sleep after, but as rainwater dripped from the eaves of the roof in the wake of the storm, they talked into the early morning hours, Cade asking her about her life back home, and she telling him about the Green Riders, her father, and her aunts.

“Your aunts sound fearsome,” he said.

Karigan chuckled. “Individually they can be intimidating. As a group, yes, fearsome is an apt description.”

“Now I know where you get it from,” Cade said. “You are like all four of your aunts in one.”

“Hey!” She poked him in the ribs, and his laughter shook their little bed.

“They’ll love you,” she said. As I do. Or, at least, she thought they would. He wasn’t the heir of a major merchant clan they’d been angling for, not even of a minor one, but once they met him, she knew they’d love him before long. In fact, she thought they’d just be relieved she’d finally found someone.

“Tell me about King Zachary,” Cade said. “He must have been a very great man.”

“He is,” Karigan said, her voice trembling. She swallowed hard. It did not feel right to speak of Zachary while she lay in Cade’s arms. Made her feel . . . guilty? “He’s a good king. He loves his land and its people.”