Corwin inhaled his shock. “I’ve never heard that before. About the killing, I mean. But you must be talking about the brother of Morwen, son of Rowan. My great-great-granduncle.” The title was used in all the texts he’d read about the two brothers.
“The very same. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard it before.” Rendborne made a dismissive gesture. “I only know the story because I’ve an obscene fondness of reading. The master of trade’s private archives are half the reason I petitioned for the job. But I doubt it’s a tale the high priestess wants told. Especially not to the heirs during the uror trial.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s prudent.” Corwin glanced at the uror sign, somewhat unsurprised to find the horse watching him. He’d never seen anything more beautiful. The idea of someone killing him turned his stomach. Forcing his gaze back to Rendborne, Corwin decided it was time to change the subject.
“What brings you down to the stables this morning?” he asked. “If not to offer me more books.”
Rendborne rolled his golden eyes. “I need to speak to Master Cade. It seems Lord Nevan of Andreas wishes to make a trade for a dozen warhorses.”
“I see.” Corwin pressed his lips together, holding back a grin. “And here I’d thought maybe Maestra Vikas was lurking about.”
“Yes, well, not this time.” Rendborne gave a fake cough, his hand rising unconsciously to the necklace of talons he wore, eight of them hung from a silver chain around his neck. “Thank you for your discretion on that matter. It’s . . . ah . . . appreciated.”
Corwin grinned in earnest now, amused by the man’s discomfort, but in a friendly way. “Of course. What’s life without a few secrets?”
Rendborne returned the grin. “Indeed. But I must be off. Good luck today, your highness.”
Corwin watched him go, then returned his attention to the uror colt. He debated lingering awhile longer with him, then decided he’d rather find Kate. But when he arrived at Firedancer’s stall, there was no sign of her. It didn’t surprise him, not with how busy and crowded the castle had been all week, but he couldn’t help the disappointment he felt.
A few minutes later, a page arrived, summoning him to the training field. Today marked the last of day of the War Games, comprised of individual event finals—archery, tent pegging, rings, and mounted swordplay. Corwin’s presence was required on the main stage, not to witness the winners but to be ready to start the uror trial once the trophies had been given. The high priestess had decided the trial would make for a memorable way to end the event. If not for the uror, Corwin would’ve been out on the field right now competing instead of watching.
As it was, he found the rounds not half as interesting as when Kate had done her Relay trial back in Farhold. Instead, his gaze kept drifting to the stone maze hovering above the training field. He did his best to study it, trying to visualize the path he would take to reach the top. Sitting beside him on the stage, he saw Edwin doing the same, neither brother speaking as the hours wore on toward midday and the start of the trial.
Finally, the competition concluded, and the priestesses arrived to escort Corwin and Edwin onto the training field, where two small tents had been erected near the maze. With a crowd of courtiers and nobles from all the twelve cities gathered around, the high priestess spoke to the princes briefly, then waved them each into a tent with a suggestion that they spend the remaining time in prayer.
At least I get to stay clothed this time, Corwin told himself, but that offered little comfort in the isolation inside the tent. He did make a feeble attempt to pray, but the sound of voices outside kept interfering. Giving up, he sat down to wait it out, only to surge to his feet a moment later when the back side of the tent rose up and a figure slid beneath it.
“Kate,” he said, surprise raising the tenor of his voice. He lowered it at once, taking in her nervous look. “What are you doing here?”
She crossed her arms in front of her, then dropped them to her sides. “I just wanted to wish you good luck.”
“Will you be watching, then?” The question was absurd, and he knew it as soon as he said it.
A slow smile crossed her face. “Someone has to heckle you. Who better than me?”
He grinned at that, remembering the game of insults they used to play during their many races and mock battles.
Kate pressed her lips together. “Will you . . . meet me in my quarters afterward? There’s something I need to tell you.”
Curiosity at what it could be sent a flutter through Corwin’s stomach. “Of course. That is, if I survive the climb.” He forced a smile, but Kate didn’t return it.
“You will win this day,” she said, holding him with a fierce gaze. “The uror selects only the worthy, and you are worthy, Corwin.”
Before he could reply, Kate turned and disappeared beneath the tent, leaving him alone once more. But her words lingered. You will win.
He didn’t know if that was true, but for the first time he thought maybe he wanted it to be.
Mounting the first platform was easy, but with a single glance skyward, Corwin knew it would be the only one that was. He could see Edwin far across from him, standing on his own platform, head tilted back toward the maze above.
The two princes waited for the horn blast that would signal the start. Corwin flinched at the loud noise when it came, the nervous energy inside him igniting like oil in a torch. Channeling it, he ran toward the nearest platform above and jumped, just making it. One down, a million to go.
Or so it seemed. The next two were much the same as the first, but from there, several options awaited his selection. He chose the nearest one—the obvious choice—but the moment he jumped onto the platform, it immediately began to drop toward the ground. Cursing, Corwin spun and leaped back to the one he’d been on before, just barely making it across. The sinking stone continued falling all the way to the ground, landing with a soft thud against the grass. Below him, the crowd let out a collective murmur of surprise.
Wiping his brow, Corwin studied the remaining two options, both within reach but farther away than the sinking stone had been. He decided on the harder one this time, assuming that had been the point of his failure with the last one. He leaped for it, barely managing to grab the edge, but at least the stone held true this time.
Moving on, he was more careful in his decisions, not automatically selecting the easiest path. The one time he did, the platform shifted out of place the moment he stepped on it, forcing him to retreat once more.
But the choices weren’t always so obvious. A short while later he selected a platform that began to spin the moment he touched down on it, moving with such force that he was thrown off his feet.
By the time he managed to stand, he was so dizzy he could barely see where to go next, until finally he leaped for another platform at random. This one thankfully didn’t move. It had a single spiraling staircase rising up out of its center. He climbed it, painfully aware of how far down the ground now was.
Reaching the top, he took a moment to gain his bearings. Far across from him, he saw Edwin standing several feet above him, farther along in the maze. Corwin needed to hurry. But when he surveyed his options, he discovered the only way up was to go down, first to a small, circular platform and then up to a larger one shaped like the head of an ax. He went for it, doing his best to ignore Edwin’s progress, lest it goad him into making a mistake.