Corwin looked away, his stomach a hard knot in his center.
“Don’t turn away, Corwin,” Dal said, scolding him like a child. “What happened to me, to our shield brothers, was unavoidable. You led us true. You stayed to fight and defend those of us who fell, even when others would’ve run away. You saved me.”
“Yes, but we never should’ve approached from that direction in the first place. If I’d just followed orders, we wouldn’t have found that boy. And if we’d never found him, I’d never have let him go, and we never would’ve been ambushed.” Corwin’s fingers curled into fists, the memory of the soldier boy’s face fresh in his mind after the first uror trial.
Dal shook his head, the slight movement exaggerated by the way the shadows splayed across the ruined side of his face. “You don’t know the boy betrayed us. We never saw him again, remember? It’s only your guilt assuming so. But I know better. I saw the look in that kid’s eyes when you told him to go home. It was the same way I felt when I learned you decided to come here to rescue my family despite the high council’s wishes. Your willingness to act quickly—to do what must be done despite the risk, the cost—that makes you the king Rime needs. We need someone who puts the people first and not the position. Someone who leads with his heart. A good heart.”
Corwin opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again at the fierce look in Dal’s eyes. There was no getting past that.
Forcing a smile to his lips, Corwin put an arm around Dal’s shoulder and squeezed. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Then, wanting to change the subject, he added, “And now I think it best we head for home. We’ve stayed in this miserable place long enough.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Dal replied, sliding the magestone back into his ear. “Norgard is truly my home now.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Corwin said. You will always have a place there, my friend, he thought. But he didn’t say it aloud. Some things just didn’t need to be said.
28
Kate
IN THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED their return from Thornewall, Kate enjoyed a stretch of peace unlike any she had ever experienced before. Thanks to the power of Raith’s magestone diamond, all of Bonner’s troubles had disappeared. Kate couldn’t be happier for him or more relieved that she didn’t have to worry any longer.
Bonner was the toast of the court, the object of glory among the Norgard soldiers, and the focus of fascination and wonder among the peasantry. The newspapers were printing articles about him, wealthy merchants with unwed daughters were sending him marriage contracts with massive dowries attached, and most of the gentry were vying to purchase something made by him personally. Best of all, though, Bonner had secured his future in Norgard, and the guarantee that his father could live out the rest of his life receiving the treatments he needed from the greens.
The only one not celebrating Bonner’s success was Grand Master Storr. He’d written a letter for the Royal Gazette cautioning the public from putting too much faith in machines over magic, but for the most part, no one seemed to be heeding him.
Kate was glad of it, all her worries far away. Even the trouble with daydrakes and her uncertainty about her place in the Rising didn’t worry her, with Master Raith still in Penlocke and not here to pressure her into telling Corwin the truth about her magic.
Her life soon fell into a comfortable routine. Although Corwin no longer brought her sweet rolls in the mornings, he did start training with her on Nightbringer again a few times a week. Both of them avoided speaking of the past, the resulting lulls in conversation occasionally awkward but more bearable than picking at old wounds. Kate sensed a change in Corwin, a confidence that hadn’t been there before. Part of it was no doubt his recent victories—both saving Thornewall and Bonner’s success with the revolvers. But part of it was something deeper, as if he was finally able to see himself the way the rest of Norgard seemed to see him now—as a worthy heir. She wasn’t hearing him called the Errant Prince anymore. What if he wins? It was a question she tried not to dwell on.
Yet the best parts of Kate’s days quickly became her visits with Kiran. At first she would come by the Sacred Sword and spend a few hours with him down in his secret underground home. But it didn’t take long before her loathing of the dark, miserable place drove her to insist she be allowed to take him outside.
Vianne had refused at first. “It’s too risky, Kate. What if someone sees you with him? They’ll want to know who he is, where he came from. We can’t risk it.”
“I’ll wear my cowl. No one will pay attention in the middle of the day. There are hundreds of children in Norgard.”
Vianne scoffed, hands on hips. “What if he loses control of his magic? If that happens even for a second—”
Anise, who made a habit of coming down too whenever Kate visited, waved her hand at the other woman. “You can’t use that excuse forever, Vianne. Sooner or later, the boy must learn to control it in places other than this dingy hole in the ground.”
“You agree with her?” Vianne spun toward Anise, her expression a mixture of shock and outrage, as if the woman had just betrayed her to the golds.
Anise rolled her eyes. “I’ve been telling you the same thing for months now. The boy is ready. It’s not healthy for him to be down here all the time. Children need fresh air and sunshine to grow.”
“What do you know about children?” Vianne said, but Kate could see right away she regretted her words.
“More than you will ever know.” Anise sounded perfectly calm, which only made her anger seem all the more dangerous.
Vianne let out a heavy sigh and turned back to Kate. “All right. You may take him out once. For a single hour—then you bring him right back. No one can see you.”
Kate wanted to argue that an hour was hardly worth it, but she held back. It was a small victory. “I’ll return for him tomorrow. We’ll go for a ride in the countryside.”
Vianne’s eyes seemed to widen to the size of teacups. “Outside the city?”
“There’s nothing to fear out there,” Kate said, remembering how she’d swayed the daydrakes to do her bidding. “Besides, if he were to have a mishap with his magic, it’s less likely anyone would see. We’ll avoid the main roads and the bigger fields.”
The next day Kate arrived earlier than usual. At first she thought the plan wasn’t going to work. Kiran’s excitement over the adventure was coming off him in visible sparks. Kate started to cancel their plans, but the moment Kiran sensed her doubt, he broke down crying. It wasn’t a tantrum like she’d seen other children have. This was abject heartbreak so pitiful that Kate almost descended into tears herself.
Vianne, no less susceptible to her son’s despair, knelt before the boy and took his hands into her scarred ones. “You’ve got to keep it under control, Kiran. Do you understand? If you let off so much as a single spark, you will never get to do this again.”
Kiran’s lower lip quivered as he fought back tears. The vivid flush on his face only emphasized the overall paleness of him. He slowly nodded.
Vianne turned Kiran’s hands over, exposing his palms. “Now show me a single flame.” The boy responded, a single steady flame appearing above his right hand. “Show me two.” A second flame appeared. “Show me three sparks in a row.”
On and on it went, Vianne testing Kiran on his ability to control his magic. He performed beautifully, exhibiting a control far above what Kate would’ve expected from a six-year-old. Then again, she didn’t have anything to compare it to, since she’d known no other wilders first coming into their power.