“I’ll stay,” Dal said before Corwin could respond. Corwin shot his friend a suspicious look, and Dal shrugged. “Should take only a short while. I’ll be able to catch up to the tour easily.”
Corwin resisted an eye roll, understanding Dal’s motives clearly—by delaying his departure, he could avoid the slow pace they were forced to keep with the royal caravan. Should’ve volunteered myself instead.
Corwin sighed. “If you’re sure, Lord Thorne.”
“Quite sure.” A hint of a smile curved the edges of Dal’s mouth. “It will give me time to do a bit more exploring of this lovely city. I’d very much like to visit the Relay house.”
Corwin looked away, hiding a scowl. Dal was free to do what he wanted, as was Kate.
It’s not my concern, he told himself.
No matter how much he might wish it were.
4
Kate
BY THE TIME KATE REACHED the Relay house, roll call was over. The other riders were already coming out of the meeting room when she crossed the threshold into the office building attached to the main stable. Their boots made heavy thuds against the wood floor. For a second, she tried to duck into one of the staff rooms, but true to the theme of her life recently, she was too late.
A familiar voice called out to her, “Late again, Traitor Kate!”
She braced, ready for a repeat of last night’s torment as she watched Cort heading toward her. He will not get a rise out of me this time, she silently swore.
Cort stopped in front of her, blocking her way. He slid the saddle he was carrying off one hip to rest it against the other. He’d been the only rider carrying one. Most preferred to keep their saddles in the tack room, conveniently located in the stable. Not Cort, though. This saddle was too valuable to leave in the care of anyone else—or so he claimed. And it was indeed valuable. Custom crafted from the finest calfskin leather, brass fasteners, and gold-laced thread, it was a saddle made for nobility. Kate knew it well—it had belonged to her father.
The sight of it in Cort’s arms brought emotions surging to the surface, as it always did, only worse after her run-in with Prince Corwin. It was as if the past were stalking her this day. The saddle was one of the few of her father’s possessions she’d been allowed to keep after his execution. She’d given it over to the Relay to cover her apprentice fee. It was worth three times as much as that, but it was all she’d had. Through a cruel twist of fate, bad luck, and Relay politics, it belonged to Cort now. She forced her eyes away from it and onto his face, a glare heating her gaze.
“What was the holdup this time?” Cort said. “You look like you took a tumble in the gutter.” He sniffed at her, then grimaced. “Yuck. What’d you do, spend the night at the slaughterhouse with Pip?”
Kate balled her hand into a fist, wishing she could punch him.
“Well, never mind,” he said, then with mock apology added, “but thought you should know that . . . unfortunately . . . you’ve been bumped.” He grinned, leaving no doubt that he’d been the one to do it.
Kate started to go around him, pushing her way between the other riders still departing, but Cort grabbed her arm with his free hand, stopping her.
She yanked out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”
The grin on his face twisted into a sneer. “Believe me, I’ve no interest in touching you. Who would? Treachery might be contagious.”
Do not respond, do not—oh hells. She flashed a cold smile. “Well, that’s great news for me, then. Now I won’t have to worry about catching stupidity from you.”
Cort snorted. “Stupid, am I? At least I know how to be on time.”
“Oh yes.” Kate rolled her eyes. “Because it’s so difficult to do that when you live in the Relay house. You just roll out of bed and here you are.”
Cort’s eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome to bunk with the boys. Like I said, a traitor like you wouldn’t have to worry about any unwanted advances.”
Mutinous tears stung Kate’s eyes—her deeper emotions betraying her. Corwin’s face swam into her mind once more. He had looked on her like she was a stranger, someone unknown and beneath his notice or care. Someone who didn’t matter.
But she had. Once. Once she had been wanted.
She forced the thoughts away, holding off the tears with a will forged by years of hardships. “Like any girl would be safe with you, Cort. One look from you and—”
“Kate Brighton!”
Flinching, she turned to see Deacon Lewis standing in the doorway of the meeting room. The foreman’s gaze was fixed on her in an expression so displeased, it chilled the heat of her anger in an instant.
“I need a word,” he said, and stepped back into the meeting room.
Swallowing, Kate headed for the door.
“Have a nice ride to Andreas, Traitor Kate,” Cort called from behind her. “Hope you fare better than poor Eliza.”
Dread began to thud in her chest at this news. She’d known she would be bumped, but she hadn’t realized it would be to the Andreas route. Deacon had forbidden female riders from taking the route after Eliza Caine failed to complete her ride a few weeks ago.
No one knew for sure what happened—other than that the nightdrakes had taken her and her horse. All they found afterward were the remnants of the saddle, mail pouch, and bits of clothing. Speculation was that she’d run into trouble with the ferrymen of the Redrush. Ever since High King Orwin had commissioned the bridge, the ferrymen went out of their way to delay riders, often forcing them to wait until nearly dusk before letting them cross. Especially the female riders. The Redrush ferrymen considered themselves Andrean above all else, and most held the belief that women had no business in a profession that required them to ride horses, carry weapons, and wear breeches beneath their skirts.
Deacon was waiting next to the podium at the front of the room as she entered. Behind him, the massive blackboard held the details of this week’s rides. Kate scanned it, quickly finding her name next to the Andreas route, surrounded by telltale smudge marks. She glanced at the Aldervale route—the one that should’ve been hers—and to her complete lack of surprise saw Cort’s name there instead. He wasn’t the most senior of the riders, but he’d earned the most honor points, giving him first dibs at bumping. Of course, just how Cort, son of the Relay master, earned those points was a different matter.
Kate stopped a few feet from Deacon and reluctantly met his gaze.
His expression was no less displeased than it had been a moment before, and he was already worrying at his scars. “How many times have I told you not to engage in arguments with Cort or any of the other riders?”
“Hundreds.” Kate resisted the urge to squirm. “I’m sorry. I was already in a foul temper, and he does his best to provoke me.”
Deacon shook his head. “I don’t care. Your best is better than his. You must stop taking the bait. If he complains to his father about you, I won’t be able to save your job.”
Kate huffed. “No chance of that. He enjoys tormenting me too much to get me fired.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Deacon let out a sigh. “I suppose you might be right.” His eyes flicked to the board. “At least the Andreas route won’t be as bad as you’re expecting.”
She arched a single eyebrow. “How so?”
“The Relay council has decided to add an extra day to the route, giving you time to compensate for any troubles with the ferrymen.”
Kate bit her lip, judging her response carefully. The last thing she wanted was to sound disrespectful. “That’s great for dealing with ferrymen, but it doesn’t help us avoid the nightdrakes. I mean, the sun keeps setting same time as always.”