“So will mine,” said Signe, who, predictably, had come with them.
Dal fixed a stare at Signe. Although he’d pretended to be his usual, lighthearted self these last few days, everyone who knew him could feel the change in him. It was as if he’d been weighed down by an invisible cloak, his jokes slower to come than before, his smiles less liable to linger. Kate hadn’t heard him laugh at all.
“I would prefer,” Dal said, his gaze sliding off Signe’s face to land somewhere near his feet, “that you stay near me.”
Signe openly gaped in response, and Kate cringed at her lack of finesse. Then, to her surprise, Signe closed her mouth and nodded. “If that is what you want.”
Dal looked up, his expression intense. “It is.”
“Good, now that’s settled,” Raith said with a touch of impatience. “But what about Kate? She is the best rider here and should be the first scout. To be honest, she might be the only scout we need. One rider is less liable to be spotted and raise an alarm. Also, with the path so treacherous, no one else has a better chance of getting back to us unscathed if there’s an ambush ahead.”
Corwin stared at the magist, his lips pressed tight together and every muscle in his body rigid.
“He makes a fair point,” Dal said, nodding at Corwin. “Not to mention one scout will mean more here at the ready to join in the fight.”
Kate braced for an angry refusal as Corwin cut his gaze to her. His blue eyes were like ice, coaxing a shiver down her spine.
“Is that what you want, Kate? To ride ahead?” A muscle ticked in Corwin’s jaw as he awaited her response.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The air between them felt charged as if from an approaching storm. The tension caused a flood of memories to rush into her mind of the last time they’d faced each other like this. An ache of desire pulsed through her. She couldn’t help it. When it came to Corwin, her body was its own creature. She looked away first.
“So be it,” she heard Corwin say. “I will discuss it with the others.”
Kate watched him go for a moment, then forcibly pulled her gaze away.
Raith stepped up to her and said, “Go get something to eat and turn in early. There’s not enough daylight left to train, and you need to be rested for the morning.”
With a grateful sigh, she told him thanks, then headed off to find a place to lay down her bedroll. They had stopped for the night less than a furlong from the cliffs, and there were several large boulders scattered throughout the camp. Kate selected a place near one of the biggest, hoping it would shield her from the noise of the soldiers, who she suspected would be up late, too restless for sleep with what waited for them tomorrow.
She untied the bedding and flung it out before her. Bending to straighten it, she froze as a voice said, “Is there something between you and Master Raith?”
Looking up, she saw Corwin leaning against the boulder, his face half hidden in shadow. She slowly rose, letting the full meaning of his question settle in her mind.
“Something between us?” She put her hands on her hips, uncertain if she felt like laughing or hitting him. A little of both, most like.
He nodded, his gaze locked on her face. “I know it’s none of my business, but . . . I can’t keep my head straight around you, and perhaps knowing that you have moved on might . . .” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
Might let me move on, too. For a brief moment she considered giving him a lie to put him out of his misery. But she was tired of lies. They seemed to be growing all around these days like invasive vines, strangling her at every turn. Instead she longed to tell him about herself and about Kiran and what she hoped to accomplish tomorrow. She longed to do what Raith asked of her—to convince him to help bring an end to the Inquisition. The diamond magestone felt like a manacle around her neck.
Carefully, she shook her head. “No, there is nothing like that between Raith and me.” She searched for an explanation, realizing too late that she should’ve anticipated this. Corwin was bound to wonder about what she and Raith were doing all that time they spent together. “We’ve been discussing the drakes and the best way to handle them. That’s all.”
Doubt clouded Corwin’s expression, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Before she knew what she was doing, Kate said, “There’s never been anyone but you, Corwin.” Her bottled-up emotions threatened to burst inside her, and she held them back with a hard swallow.
His eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Never?”
“Not one, not on purpose anyway.”
He seemed to mull this over. “You mean that kiss with Edwin.” Jealousy rang clear in his voice, despite his obvious effort to hide it.
She took pity on him, remembering that she never had offered an explanation. “I thought he was you. I even said your name. I wouldn’t have kissed him otherwise. But you do look alike, and it was dark. I never would’ve hurt you willingly. Edwin tricked me. He tricked us both.”
Corwin gritted his teeth, a muscle flicking in his jaw. “He’s always hated me, hasn’t he?”
Kate started to agree, then stopped. “I think it’s more complicated than that. He loves you, too, but you were never allowed to be mere brothers. The uror made you rivals from the beginning, and your father’s favoritism didn’t help.”
It was strange how the years had given her such clarity, and she felt an unexpected wave of pity for the older Tormane brother, almost enough to make her understand the man he’d become now. She recalled the subtle way Edwin demeaned Corwin at every turn—snide, biting comments about his character, his looks, everything. They’d often been said in jest, but jealousy fueled them. Then after Queen Imogen died, he’d had even more fuel to feed his resentment.
Corwin slowly nodded. “It makes you wonder if there isn’t a better way than the uror.” For a second his gaze turned far away, the look of a man wandering lost in his own thoughts. Then he shook his head and came back to her. “I’m sorry, Kate. I know you would never have hurt me on purpose. I’ve always known. I just let the events of that night cloud my feelings. I suppose I’m always doing that. Even now, it’s easier to think Edwin simply hates me without cause than to admit the cruel circumstances between us. But I suppose I should look for the good in him as well.”
Kate bit her lip, fighting the urge to step closer to Corwin, to comfort him with a touch. Or maybe it was herself she sought comfort for.
His gaze dropped to the rocky ground between them. “I need to stop judging by appearance alone, with just my gut feeling on the matter. Like the way I misjudged you. The assumptions I made about . . .” He trailed off, his eyes flicking to her waist for a moment. The moonbelt wasn’t visible, but they both knew she still wore it. He raised his gaze to hers. “I’m sorry for making that callous offer. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she said, unable to look away, even though she should—before she did something foolish. She pressed her lips together as the temptation to tell him the truth rose up even stronger inside her.
Corwin broke the connection first. “Good. Be careful tomorrow,” he said, and then he disappeared behind the rock.
Regret pricked at her. What a hypocrite she was. How could he not misjudge her when she’d been lying to him for years, keeping her secret? She used to think it was harmless, for his own good, but now she wondered if she hadn’t created the problems between them by her deception, as if by holding herself back she had ensured that they would never truly stand on the same ground. Or maybe the gods were just punishing her for the lie. In the end, neither possibility brought her any comfort.
Kate was distracted the next morning when she rode out ahead of the caravan, her thoughts still on Corwin and their exchange the night before. She believed his apology, but it didn’t change things, as much as she might want it to. He was still the high prince and she the traitor’s daughter.