Dim light filled the corridor, the sun just starting to show its face beyond the stained glass windows, these depicting the Ride of Adair in a series of frames. The sound of footsteps reached her ears and for half a moment she considered retreating back to her room long enough to let whomever it was pass. But then she raised her head and carried on. She was done being a coward, or at least behaving like one.
Keeping to one side of the staircase, she headed down, only to stop a moment later when she saw Corwin climbing up. He held a napkin in his left hand, the smell of cinnamon and lemon wafting toward her. His right hand was still wrapped in gauze from the uror branding. This was the first time she’d seen him since that night.
A smiled crested his lips when he spotted her. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you bring me sweet rolls?”
“What, these?” He held up the napkin, his expression turning impish. “Whyever would you think I’d bring you something so delicious?”
Against her better judgment, Kate closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of them. A smile curled the side of her face. “Because you know I have an unholy obsession with the way they taste.”
“Unholy indeed.” He held out the napkin. “I’m glad to see your tastes haven’t changed.”
Kate snatched one of the rolls and took the biggest bite she could manage. She’d eaten well since arriving at the castle, decadent meals shared with Signe and Bonner and comprised of every food imaginable—except for sweet rolls. Those were a treat considered appropriate only for children, it seemed.
And the high prince of Norgard. Corwin took the second roll on the pile and devoured nearly half of it in one bite. They shared an icing-smeared grin.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where are you headed this morning?”
Her stomach did a somersault. Maybe such a sugary confection wasn’t a good idea just now. “The stables.”
A look of surprise crossed Corwin’s face. “That’s fortunate. I was coming to ask you to visit the stables with me today, actually.”
“You were?”
Corwin nodded, his gaze shifting nervously away from her face, then back again. “I had a talk with Bonner yesterday. He mentioned that you were . . . ah . . . a bit restless and spending far too much time inside.”
Kate put a hand on her waist. “You two were talking about me?”
Corwin ran a thumb over his chin, tracing the line of the scar. “He was worried about you, and . . . and so was I. I thought I’d made a mistake placing you back in your family’s old quarters.” He motioned to the hallway behind her.
It was a mistake, she thought. You should’ve asked me. And yet, it wasn’t. She knew that no matter how much it hurt, she needed to face down these restless ghosts if she ever hoped to find peace. She drew a deep breath.
“I’m fine with the quarters. What is it you and Bonner decided about me during this little talk you had?” she said, her tone biting.
“I thought it was time for me to honor my promise to find you a position in the royal stables. I know it was always your dream and—” He broke off, clearing his throat. “And so I’ve arranged for you to audition with Master Cade.”
Kate’s heart did a strange jilting dance in her chest. An audition? It seemed impossible to believe after years of wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps. Even more than that, if Master Cade was receptive to the idea, then maybe he would be open to answering her questions, too. Hope bubbled up inside her, and she forced back a giddy smile.
“I suppose I would be okay with that. Gods know I’m dying to ride.”
Corwin bowed his head, then motioned to the steps. “All right, let’s be off then. Although it seems a shame I didn’t need these to bribe you to come along.” He held up the remaining sweet roll, and Kate snatched it out of his hand. Her churning nerves were no match for her love of such sugary goodness.
“Your instincts weren’t wrong, though,” she said around a mouthful. “For this kind of bribe, I might do anything.”
A suggestive smile teased his lips. “Anything?”
Kate rolled her eyes, which only made him laugh in response. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. Yes, they’d formed a fragile alliance on the road here, but she didn’t know if she was ready to be so casual around him. It felt too much like how it used to be. Be careful, she thought, distrusting the lure of those old feelings.
The stables occupied the entire west half of the castle grounds, a sprawling single-story building that housed more than a hundred individual stalls. The horses here lived better than most common folk, their stalls bedded with fresh straw, their water buckets emptied and refilled twice each day, near-constant grooming. They never wanted for food or care. That wasn’t to say that they didn’t earn their keep, though. The warhorses were ridden several hours each day, their training as rigorous as any soldier’s. Some days they were worked over obstacles, some days it was flatwork or endurance training. All days they were exposed to battlefield conditions. The horses produced here were expected to be as fierce as the riders they carried.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much since we arrived,” Corwin said as they headed into the barn, toward the main office. The grooms and stable hands they passed watched them with poorly veiled interest. “But I’ve been a little preoccupied with the uror.”
“I understand.” Kate longed to ask how he felt about it. She’d witnessed firsthand how much he struggled when the uror sign failed to arrive when it was supposed to, watching as it slowly shattered his once-solid certainty that he was meant to rule. “Is it true the sign is a horse?” she asked.
“Yes, it is.” He halted midstride and faced her. “Would you like to see it?”
At Kate’s nod, Corwin turned left down one of the smaller aisles. Ahead, two armed guards stood outside a stall. They stepped aside at Corwin’s approach. He stopped in front of the barred window and peered in. Kate did the same, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the horse, marked by the goddess in black and white.
The uror colt was still finishing his breakfast, but he raised his head from the grain bucket and peered back at them. With wide, wild eyes, one black and one blue, he stretched his neck to the bars and sniffed Kate’s fingers where she gripped the edge of the window. She longed to touch the horse, her gift humming inside her, but she didn’t dare.
That was, until Corwin said, “You can go in, if you’d like.”
Kate’s fingers trembled as she slid open the stall door and took a step inside. The colt retreated, tossing his head nervously. Then curiosity got the best of him, and he stretched his nose out to Kate. She let him sniff at her fingers again, then touched the soft velvet of his muzzle. For just a second she dared to use her magic, touching his mind as well—but she couldn’t read anything from him. It was as if a black veil hid him from her sight.
She ran a hand down the front of his nose, and he leaned his mouth toward her chest. Worried he might nip, she started to push him away, but then he snorted, blowing snot over the front of her tunic.
She grimaced. “Aren’t you the naughty boy?”
He snorted again—less messily this time.
“It’s strange how normal he is, isn’t it?” Corwin said, watching the exchange from outside the stall. “If you didn’t know better, you would think he was an ordinary horse. That is, if you only went by his behavior.”
“What do you mean?” Kate said at his peculiar tone.
Corwin shrugged. “The horse makes me feel . . . strange. When I’m around him, it’s like this buzzing in my head.”
Frowning, Kate turned back to the colt and reached out to him with her magic once more, a gentle probe against that black veil. She felt something respond, but then it skittered away, behind the curtain once more. Nevertheless, she sensed the horse’s intelligence, his vibrant energy.
Withdrawing her magic, she ran her hands down the colt’s sleek neck. “What are you?” she whispered, and for a second she experienced a buzzing like Corwin described, a tingle like the magic in a magestone once invoked.