Kate shook her head, wishing the room were a mess so that she could put it right again, just to relax. Instead she sat on the bed, legs tucked to her chin. Occupying the bed across from hers, Signe had already pulled out her knife to juggle, her own relaxation exercise. Maybe I should get her to teach me how, Kate thought.
Aloud she said, “People are raised to fear wilders, no matter how harmless or useful. It’s always been so.”
“Yes, well, I suppose they might have a little reason to fear us, after the attack on the Gregors. Not to mention what that woman did outside the Boarbelly,” Bonner said, running a hand through his long hair, still wet and hanging loose after his bath. Neither he nor Kate had been there to see the hydrist use her magic, but everyone in the city was discussing it, in all its gruesome detail.
Fear us. The implication in Bonner’s words didn’t sit well with Kate, the idea that she and Bonner were like that woman in the square. As if being a wilder was the extent of who they were instead of one aspect of themselves. Other than Bonner and her father, she’d known no other wilders, and certainly none who had used their power to kill. She certainly couldn’t kill someone directly with her magic, and she’d never been tempted to compel some animal to do it for her.
Signe fixed a scowl at them both. “They were taking her son to be executed. If I were her, I would have fought back with whatever weapons were at hand.”
Her hands were the weapon—that’s the problem, Kate thought. A sword could be taken away. Magic is a part of us. But neither Bonner nor Kate bothered to argue. Not when Signe had that look in her eyes, the one that spoke of how her understanding of the world was the only right one. Kate envied her the ability to see things in such clear shades of black and white. For her, there was always so much gray.
“This Ralph Marcel might’ve been like you, Kate,” Bonner said, bringing the conversation back to its point.
“Yes, a wilder who can control animals,” Signe said with a bob of her head. “Corwin thinks the Rising might be controlling the daydrakes. That this is what Marcel was doing.” She turned a questioning look on Kate. “Is that possible? Could you control a drake with your power, like you do horses?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I’ve never thought of trying.” Kate rolled the idea through her mind, both intrigued and alarmed at the possibility. Could she have stopped those daydrakes attacking that day with her magic? If so, then Corwin would never have seen the revolver, and they wouldn’t be here now. Still, the idea of touching the mind of something so foul made her cringe. “It might be possible, though. I used to use my magic on all sorts of animals when I was little. Before my father made me swear to only use it on horses and only when necessary.”
“So Corwin may be right.” Signe caught the knife and returned it to its sheath. “I wish we could tell him.”
Kate sucked in a breath. “Are you mad? He would hand me over to the golds before you could blink.”
Signe wrinkled her nose. “I don’t believe Corwin would do such a thing. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. All the time.”
Heat filled Kate’s cheeks. For a second she wanted to ask for more, to ply Signe with questions about those looks as if she were some silly girl in a romantic tale. But no, this was Corwin. “He doesn’t feel that way about me. Not anymore.”
Bonner made a noise of dissent, but didn’t comment after Kate threatened him with a glare.
She turned back to Signe. “You can never tell Corwin or anyone else about me and Bonner, Sig. You understand that, right? You must promise not to.”
Signe managed a haughty scowl, the sort of look only she could pull off. “Of course I won’t. But if you ask my opinion, you should.”
“No,” Kate said, “what we should do is turn around and head straight back to Farhold before we all end up collared.”
“Why would they collar me?” Signe asked, cocking her head.
“For being insane,” Kate replied.
But joking or not, there was no going back, and they all knew it. We might be as good as caught already.
The closer they drew to Norgard, the tenser Kate became. The days were long and tedious as they journeyed from Andreas to Thace, where they met up with the soldiers and wagon, then headed on to Carden. They spent only a single night in each city, barely long enough to appreciate the unique flavor of each.
In Thace, a city built on a marsh where many of the streets were water instead of road, Signe and Dal sacrificed an entire night’s rest to roam the city in a rented boat. They’d come back wet and exhausted, but full of adventurous tales involving a capsized boat, a daring underwater escape from the city guardsmen, and a run-in with either a mermaid, a seafairy, or some other such mythical creature. Kate knew not to believe the half of it, although she found it amusing that Dal was so willing to play Signe’s tall-tale game.
In Carden, a city renowned across Rime for its distilleries, Corwin and Dal overindulged so badly that neither could sit a horse the next day.
“We didn’t know there was bourbon in the chocolates and whiskey in the apple pie,” Dal insisted.
“Oh, you knew,” Signe replied, smirking. “You just thought yourselves strong enough to take it.”
Kate felt sorry for them, even if their suffering was self-inflicted. Corwin always did have a sweet tooth.
Still, despite the pace, every minute felt more like ten, the miles endless. If only she could ride at a Relay pace; then she could outrun these nerves plaguing her at every step. She almost wished for a daydrake sighting, just to distract her. But there’d been no sign or rumor of them since they left Andreas.
When they finally entered Jade Forest, some several weeks after their journey began, her anxiety grew to a fever pitch. The forest bordered Norgard from the west, close enough that its thick, towering trees were visible from the city itself. Kate supposed even more than the worry about Bonner being discovered, it was this sense of homecoming that bothered her so much. Her heart ached at the sights and smells, at once so familiar and yet so long forgotten. The three years she’d been away felt like both an eternity and no time at all. She feared Norgard. Feared the past even as she hoped to uncover it, and she feared the present, too. In Norgard, she would be Traitor Kate to everyone, the wound of her father’s crime so much deeper here.
When they stopped for the night more than halfway through the forest, Kate busied herself making camp as best she could. But the activity didn’t last long. They had reached one of the caravan campsites, the kind with permanent shelters carved into the bases of the massive trees that formed Jade Forest. There were even wardstone barriers carved into trees as well. This was the same site she’d stayed in the first night after her voluntary exile from Norgard. The straw covering the ground inside the trees made for comfortable bedding, but she doubted she would be able to sleep much, any more than she had that night long ago.
Kate looked up from unrolling her bedroll, her eyes finding Corwin easily. She always seemed to know where he was. He’d selected the tree across the way from hers, his bedroll already spread out inside it. As if he sensed her gaze, he glanced up, and for a moment their eyes met before they both looked away. Kate’s heart skipped inside her chest. For just a second, he’d looked like the Corwin she used to know, the boy who could make her pulse race at just a glance, his eyes full of mischief and his mouth curved into a sensual promise.
Her reaction unnerved her, and she scrambled to her feet. “I’m going for a walk,” she said to Signe, who’d just come in, carrying her own bedroll. “I’ll be back before dark.” There was enough light still in the forest to see by, and she had her revolver holstered to one hip if there was trouble.
Signe waved her away. “Go off and make yourself tired so you finally sleep still tonight.”
Kate sighed, wishing it were that simple. “You could always sleep somewhere else, you know. Then I won’t keep you up with my restlessness.”