Turning back around, Kate heard the wind shriek in her ears even louder than the bell. Ahead she saw the teams of oxen hitched to the insides of the gates, pulling them closed.
“Wait!” she shouted. “Wait!” Once the gates closed, they wouldn’t reopen until dawn—not for one lowly Relay rider. There was another way into the city, through the hidden mage door, but only mage magic could find and open it. Hers was wilder magic, outlawed and secret and good only for influencing animals.
If the men driving the oxen heard her, they didn’t respond. She urged Pip even faster, but the horse was failing by the second as the pain in his foreleg spread. She heard the rustle of corn behind her, louder than before. In the distance, the rest of the pack began to screech, closing in. Kate spied the Farhold guards waiting atop the wall with arrows nocked to repel the beasts should they approach the gate before it closed.
Come on, Pip. Gritting her teeth, Kate closed her eyes and went deeper into the horse’s mind until she found the very center of him, his essence. All animals possessed it—a glowing brightness like a burning candle that she could see and feel only through the eye of her mind and the magic that gave it sight. She found the brightness and wrapped her magic around it, shielding the horse from the pain. She took that pain into herself instead, gasping at the sensation. The ploy worked, and the horse shot ahead, his strides lengthening.
Moments later they charged through the narrow space between the gates and into the safety of Farhold. The gates thudded closed, sealing them in. Kate resisted the impulse to let go of the horse’s mind, fearing what the shock would do to him. She eased back on the reins and brought him to a halt. Then she slid from the saddle and slowly withdrew her magic. Immediately the horse began to tremble, struggling to stay upright with only three legs able to bear weight now.
Ignoring the curious looks from the Farhold guards, Kate led the horse forward, one slow, hobbling step at a time. The Relay house wasn’t far from the eastern gate, but it was like miles to poor Pip. Now that she’d withdrawn from his mind, he bore the pain in full, but she couldn’t risk maintaining the connection. There were magists in Farhold, same as in every city in Rime, and all of them carried enchanted stones designed to detect wilder magic. If they ever discovered what she could do, she would face imprisonment and execution, a fate she feared for more reasons than the obvious. Not that she would even be able to use her magic much longer today, with true night descending. Wilder magic worked only during the day. Like the everweeps on the hills outside, the power closed up inside her and would remain dormant until dawn.
Still, Kate did what she could to help the horse. Halting him, she removed both saddle and mailbag, slinging them over her shoulder despite the weight and her own weariness. She tried to find comfort in knowing that at least they’d made it into the city, but she couldn’t stop the tears stinging her eyes. She had done this. Broken this horse to save her own life.
By the time they arrived at the Relay house, the ringed moon had risen high overhead, drenching the cobbled street below in silver light. Irri, the goddess whose nightly charge it was to spin that shining orb, was hard at work. Kate wished for darkness, if only to hide her guilt. The iron gates into the stable stood closed and barred from the inside. She started to shout for entry when the door into the main house opened and a young man stepped out.
“You’re late, Traitor Kate,” Cort Allgood said in a mocking, jovial tone.
Kate ignored him. He used the name far too often for it to bother her like it once had.
A grin twisted Cort’s lips. “We thought you died. Even started making bets on it. You cost me more than a few valens.”
Clenching her teeth, Kate adjusted the mail pouch across her shoulder. Of all the people to be here now, why did it have to be him? The gods must hate me.
“Open the gate. Pip is lame.”
Cort examined the horse, cocking his head so that his blond curls bounced foppishly. Instead of his usual Relay rider uniform he wore a green tunic over breeches and tall black boots. The sight of his dapper appearance made Kate regret her own state of disarray. She smoothed down the front of her soiled tunic and brushed back raven-black hair from her face, where it had escaped the neat braid she’d plaited this morning.
“That horse isn’t lame,” Cort said, finishing his examination. “He’s good as dead.”
Kate’s hands balled into fists around the reins. “Open the gate.”
“How’d he get like that anyway?” Cort cocked his head in the other direction, his curls doing another ridiculous bounce. “You ride him off a cliff? Could’ve sworn they trained us not to do that.”
Turning to the gate, Kate opened her mouth to shout for someone else but stopped as Cort made a quick retreat. A moment later he appeared on the other side of the gate and swung it open.
“Come on, Pip. Just a little farther.” Kate tugged the horse forward.
“Poor thing.” Cort slapped the gelding on the rump, making him flinch. “But that’s what happens when you’re forced to carry a traitor.” Cort touched a mocking finger to his chin. “How does the Relay Rider’s Vow go again, Traitor Kate? The part about protecting the horse at all costs?”
She kept walking, head up and lips sealed, but her blood heated with every word he spoke. She had reason to hate Cort Allgood. He was the one who had first discovered who she really was: Kate Brighton of Norgard. Daughter of Hale Brighton, the man who tried to kill the high king of Rime.
The traitor’s daughter.
After her father was executed for his crimes, she’d come to Farhold hoping to escape her past, to start over with a new life and a new name. For the first ten months she’d managed it, but then Cort had seen an illustration of her in the Royal Gazette, a new monthly newspaper published by the royal court and sent to all the city-states that formed the kingdom of Rime. The story that accompanied the illustration marked the one-year anniversary of Hale Brighton’s attack on the king. Within days of its publication the anonymous Relay rider Kate Miller became Kate Brighton once more. She was lucky not to have been dismissed from the position.
“Then again, Traitor Kate,” Cort said, catching up with her, “if you had kept the vow, you would’ve ruined your reputation.” He paused, frowning. “You know, I’ve always wondered why it is your father did it. None of the stories ever say. Do you know why he did it?”
Kate ignored his question as well as the same one that echoed deep inside her. No, she didn’t know. She never would. The dead tell no truths, as the priests were fond of saying.
Spying a stable boy ahead, Kate waved him down. “Fetch Master Lewis.”
The boy looked set to argue, then changed his mind when he saw Pip stumble sideways, struggling to maintain his awkward three-legged balance. While the boy made a dash for the foreman’s quarters, Kate continued on, guiding Pip toward the eastern stable.
Cort started to follow her, another cutting remark on his lips, but someone shouted his name from across the way. He shouted back a response, then turned and addressed Kate.
“Well, I’m off, Traitor Kate. Good luck saving that doomed horse.”
“Shut up,” Kate said, her hold on her temper finally slipping. “He’s not doomed.”
Cort barked a triumphant laugh. “I’d say let’s make a wager on it, but there’s no sport in a fixed game.” He winked, then turned and jaunted off without another word.