They hurried off the stands and headed toward the gate. Kate was leading the horse, having dismounted the moment the trial was over. She walked fast, her head down in a bid for a quick escape, but before she could make it, the judge with the pocket watch called out to her.
She stopped and faced the man as he approached. A wary but respectful expression rose to her face. From the sigil on the man’s tunic, Corwin guessed he was the Relay foreman. He and Dal hung back, not wanting to intrude.
“Well done, Kate,” the man said. “That was your best time yet, and you had only one error.”
Kate scowled at the compliment. “Does this mean I’m finally ungrounded then?”
The foreman rubbed his fingers over a line of pale, twisted scars on his forearm, vivid against his brown skin. “We’ll discuss it later.” The finality in his tone told Corwin that Kate’s chances of riding again were slim. What a waste, he thought, although secretly he didn’t mind the idea of her not being outside the city walls again anytime soon.
The foreman retreated to his post, and reluctantly, Kate turned her gaze onto them at last. “Your highness,” she said, giving him a stiff bow.
“Nice to see you again, Miss Brighton.” Corwin smiled, wishing he had some way to set her at ease.
“What are you doing here?” She glanced over her shoulder, as if afraid someone would notice them talking. Her worry was pointless—everyone had noticed.
Corwin cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened on the road to Andreas.”
“Oh.” Her gaze fell to the ground. “Can it wait? I need to take care of Trooper.” As if in emphasis, the horse sucked in a breath, then blew it out in a loud snort.
“We’ll come with you,” Dal said before Corwin could respond.
Kate’s lips formed a thin line, but she didn’t argue. Leading the way, she headed into one of the stables. Fortunately, few people lingered about. As good a battleground as any, Corwin thought, then chided himself for it. This wasn’t a battle. He refused to let it become one.
Kate led the horse into a wash stall in the back and pulled off the bridle, trading it for a halter. Then she snapped the crossties into place before stepping past the gelding’s shoulder to the saddle, her hands raised to undo the girth.
“That was a fantastic ride, Miss Kate,” Dal said, patting the horse’s neck. “I was just telling Corwin that you’re even better at cavalry games than he is. However do you manage to be so accurate with the targets?”
A smile ghosted across Kate’s face. “It’s not so hard. I just imagine I’m slaying my enemies.”
Although she didn’t look at Corwin as she spoke, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was among those enemies. Then again, perhaps it was best not to know. He clasped his hands in front of him to keep from fidgeting. Gods, this was hard.
Dal cleared his throat, not quite concealing the sound of suppressed laughter. “Speaking of slaying things, his highness is here to thank you for saving him.”
Corwin inwardly groaned, feeling like a fool. I should be doing the saving. He pushed the thought aside, letting his gratitude come to the forefront. He bowed his head toward Kate.
“Yes, thank you. I would be dead if not for you. I am in your debt.”
“You’re welcome.” She glanced at him with her large, large eyes. Then she added in a low breath, “If only I had earned such before now.”
Corwin winced at the blow. Save him. He’s my father, he heard her beg again. Stop the execution, give us exile! And he hadn’t. At the time, he’d believed there was no alternative, that such an offense must be paid by death, lest someone else believe they should attempt the same and perhaps succeed. But in the years that followed, he’d begun to wonder if he’d been wrong. The time he’d spent away from Rime had taught him that the world was rarely so black and white. He wrapped his fingers around the vambrace on his right wrist, hiding the tattoo beneath.
“Well now,” Dal said with a nervous laugh. “We’re also here to find out more about that marvelous revolver your friend made.”
Pulling the saddle from the horse’s back, Kate glanced at them both, her expression guarded. “Why?”
“You used it to kill three of those four daydrakes,” Corwin said, holding out his hands to take the saddle from her.
Ignoring the offer, she stepped past him and slid the saddle onto a rack just out front of the wash stall. “I . . . I didn’t think you would remember any of what happened.”
Dropping his hands back to his sides, Corwin hid a wince at his blunder. Of course she would hope he hadn’t remembered. Especially after all the intimate things he said to her in his delirium. If only he could take it back—but somehow he doubted telling her he’d been crazed out of his mind and hadn’t meant a word of it would go over very well. Denial then.
“I remember very little aside from that. But seeing a weapon kill so many drakes so easily is impossible to forget.”
“There was nothing easy about it.” Kate picked up an empty bucket at the front of the stall and crossed the aisle to the water trough, where she dipped out a bucketful. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, to start,” Dal said, stepping forward to take the bucket from her. To Corwin’s chagrin, she allowed the help this time. “Are there any more?”
“I . . .” Kate bit her lip, then seemed to realize she was doing it and schooled her expression into a neutral mask. “There is only the one. My friend Tom Bonner made it special for me. To keep me safe on my rides.”
Corwin’s fingers clenched, halfway toward making fists. Who was this Bonner? Was he the one who gave her the moonbelt? For a second, the image of another man with his hands at her waist, pulling her into a kiss, flashed in Corwin’s mind. It wasn’t one his imagination needed to conjure. Memory of her and Edwin would suffice.
“That’s very nice,” Dal said, shooting Corwin a wary glance. “But surely if he made the one, he can make others.”
Corwin nodded his agreement while he wrestled the jealousy beast back into its cage. Kate’s life was not his business anymore. Who she was friends with, who she loved . . . who loved her.
Fetching a dry rag off the front of the wash stall, Kate dipped it into the bucket and doused the horse’s neck with it. The gelding snorted a protest, raising his head in a vain attempt to avoid the water.
“Oh, stop it, you big baby,” she chided. “This should feel nice.” The horse shook his neck, spraying them all with water. Kate bent toward the bucket once more. “Yes, I suppose he could make more.”
“Excellent.” Dal clapped his hands once. “When can we meet this Tom Bonner?”
Kate rolled her eyes as she ran the wet rag along the horse’s back. “Seeing how I’ve no real work to do anymore, I suppose I can arrange a meeting.” She made a point of addressing the offer to Dal.
He grinned. “Perfect. Should we come back later today?”
She shook her head. “Bonner will want time to prepare. Tomorrow would be better. Meet me here at seven o’clock.”
“The moment the bell tolls.” Dal placed a palm over his heart and stooped into a theatrical bow.
That sideways smile appeared on Kate’s face then, stealing Corwin’s breath away for a moment. It always made her look like she had some secret, one you would give your right eye to possess, if only she would tell you.
Emboldened by the smile and the warm memories it provoked, Corwin said, “Thank you again, Kate.”
The smile vanished, and she fixed a cold stare at him. He wished he could know what she was thinking at that moment.
Then again, maybe not, he thought, imagining his face on one of her targets.
After a few seconds, she asked, “Is that all you wanted from me then, your highness?”
It was a dangerous question, a multi-edged sword forged to cut no matter which way he answered. “Yes,” he finally said, guessing it was the answer she wanted to hear.
11
Kate