Signe flashed a suggestive grin. “I would if only you would do the same. That moonbelt is going to waste.”
Kate didn’t dignify the comment with a response, but slipped out the back side of the tree and into the forest. The magists had already set the barrier around the camp, but she wasn’t worried about nightdrakes just yet. There’d been a rumor of daydrakes spotted not far from Marared, but no official word of an attack. Kate doubted the creatures had migrated so far as Norgard. Unless Corwin is right and the Rising are controlling them. She prayed it wasn’t so. If only the other wilders were more like her and Bonner—careful in using their magic and never doing harm—then maybe the League would stop hunting them, the people stop fearing.
She followed a narrow path through the trees. They grew so tall here that little brush survived, making it easy for her to move without making noise. It was a game she used to play as a child—trying to be as silent as a wild animal. The existence of such creatures had always been a wonder to her—that they could live and thrive outside the city walls despite the threat of drakes. She’d asked her father why the drakes didn’t kill all the deer and other woodland creatures, and he’d told her that the drakes hungered for human flesh.
“Then why do we bring our horses and cattle inside the city at night?” she’d asked him.
“Because the drakes are drawn to the human scent we leave on our domesticated animals. They will always hunt those touched by humans first. Anything else does not satisfy their hunger.”
“But why?”
“That is their nature, Katie girl. It is mankind’s punishment from the gods.”
What they’d supposedly done to deserve it, she’d never asked.
The farther Kate walked from the campsite, the more she wanted to reach out with her magic and touch the minds of the animals she sensed around her. She’d barely used her gift at all these last few weeks, not daring to with Master Raith and his blue robes always about. The abstinence was getting to her. It was like not being able to take a full breath for hours on end. Still, she resisted the temptation, as much for Bonner as for herself. If she were ever caught, it would risk exposing him—just because he would doubtless fight to protect her, like that woman in Andreas. She wondered how many of these Rising attacks were actually that—a loved one defending another.
The path ended in a wide clearing dotted with everweeps and wildflowers. She walked several steps into it, then stopped and breathed in, savoring the sweet smell. She chose a seat in front of a log on the edge of the clearing. Dozens of white daisies grew there, and before she knew it, she had picked a handful and begin weaving them together in a garland. This too was a game she hadn’t played since childhood. It took her several tries before she remembered the trick of threading the stems together. As she worked, the wind began to pick up, the storm that had been threatening all day finally drawing close. But Kate liked the song it played through the trees, the leaves rustling, and the creak and murmur of shifting branches.
She became so engrossed that she failed to realize when she was no longer alone.
“I didn’t know you could still do that.”
Giving a start, she dropped the garland and looked up to see Corwin standing at the head of the same path she had followed. She sucked in a breath, willing her heart to settle.
“I’m sorely out of practice.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me.” He stepped toward her, then stooped to pick up the garland. He held it out to her. “Will you wear it like you used to?”
“No,” Kate said at once, and Corwin flinched at her harsh tone. His reaction made her soften, and she took the garland from his hands, adding in a gentler voice, “I would feel too foolish.”
Corwin stared down at her, unspeaking.
“Is there something wrong at camp?” Kate said into his silence.
“No, I’ve just come to fetch you back. It’s getting dark and a storm is coming.”
“Right.” Kate moved to get up, but stopped when Corwin sat down on the log next to her.
“But it’s not night yet, and this place is lovely.”
Uncomfortable with sitting beneath him, Kate joined him on top of the log, brushing the petals and twigs from her breeches.
Corwin stared up at the sky, swollen with gray clouds. “Do you remember that time when we convinced the master of that traveling circus that we were orphans needing work?”
Kate blinked, taken by surprise. “Of course,” she said, tentative toward the subject as she was toward all things from the past. She would never forget it. That night was the first time they’d fantasized about running away together, both of them knowing that the life they dreamed of could never be. He was the high prince, destined to marry someone politically advantageous for Rime—the choice wasn’t any more his than hers. And I was so in love with you, she thought, the admission more painful than she could’ve imagined after so long.
She cleared her throat. “He hired us on the spot. You to lunge the horses and me to perform the acrobatics. I always thought he’d gotten that backward.”
Corwin smiled. “Me too. You were the best with the horses.”
“Yes, and you would’ve looked better in those tight outfits the acrobats wore.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” His gaze slid down the outline of her legs visible in the breeches. After much badgering from Signe, she’d stopped wearing the overskirt outside of the cities. A blush crept up Kate’s neck, and she focused her gaze on the garland, turning it over in her hands.
Corwin sighed and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “I sometimes wish we’d gone through with it. Our lives would be very different now.”
“Yes, I suppose they would,” Kate said, but without any conviction. It wouldn’t have lasted even if they had been brave enough to run away. Look at us now. Barely able to talk to one another.
“Signe would be good in a circus,” Corwin added, breaking the sudden tension with a grin.
Kate returned it. “I think she was part of one. At least for a little while. But you never know with her. She tells so many stories, then contradicts them by turns.”
“She might be the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Though to tell the truth, her never-ending questions can be a bit tiresome. That’s half the reason I came out here, just to get away from them.”
Kate rolled her eyes, understanding the sentiment perfectly, despite her undying affection for her. “What is she on about now?”
Corwin ran a palm down his face. “The Inquisition. She can’t seem to grasp why it is we let the golds take children from their mothers.”
“She doesn’t understand. Or maybe she chooses not to.” Kate kicked at a rough patch on the ground, uncomfortable with the topic. “Although I can sympathize with her struggle, on that point at least.”
Corwin shifted toward her. “How do you mean?”
Tread carefully, Kate told herself. “The League holds a lot of power over people, more than I think they ever had before. Now they can come and go as they please, invading homes, destroying families. I was surprised when your father sanctioned the Inquisition.”
“My father didn’t.” Corwin kicked at the ground too, unearthing an everweep, this one with blue petals, glistening with the constant moisture that gave them their name. “Edwin did. He’s responsible for all the changes of late. Even the bridge over the Redrush was his idea.”
Kate gaped, feeling a stab of anger. Edwin had always been arrogant, but she couldn’t believe he would attempt to rule with his father still alive. That stupid bridge had gotten Eliza Caine killed. He had no business making such decisions from the lofty towers of Norgard.