Vikas shook her head, a cold glint in her gray eyes. “Your rank doesn’t matter, your highness. Not here. Not in this.” She took a step toward him. “You are under arrest, Prince Corwin, for willfully harboring a wilder and allowing that wilder to use magic against the high king.”
Corwin held his ground, his gaze fixed on the mace in the maestra’s hands. “We’re in the middle of an uror.” He waved at Edwin. “Help me. I’m your brother. You can’t let them do this.”
For a second, doubt flicked across Edwin’s face. But just as quickly it was gone. He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “As you said, Corwin, I’m not the high king. Not yet.”
Corwin flinched at having his words thrown back at him. For a moment, he considered fighting his way free. But he’d brought no weapons with him, and he’d already seen how effective Vikas could be with her mace. He couldn’t fight this. Not here. Not yet. The charges won’t stand, he told himself, not once the council and the high priestess have their say. The uror trial must be completed—the laws of man could not interfere with the laws of the gods.
Corwin raised his hands in surrender and stepped away from Kate. A few minutes later, he was being escorted back to his quarters by a pair of guards and a gold robe Vikas had summoned.
“What will happen to Kate?” Corwin asked the gold master magist.
“The same that happens to all wilders, once caught,” the man replied. Although the full mask he wore hid his expression, there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice. Flakes of ice seemed to slither down Corwin’s back. The golds would take her to their house outside the city to perform the Purging, same as they did with any wilder. He didn’t know what all it involved, but the word conjured gruesome images in his mind. Afterward, the golds would put her to death and bury her body in an unmarked grave as a final act of condemnation.
With panic bubbling up inside his chest, Corwin eyed the pistol hanging on the belt of the guard in front of him. It wasn’t a revolver, but the single shot might be enough for him to escape. Only once again he remembered the power Maestra Vikas had demonstrated. The gold carried his mace in hand, ready to use at the first sign of resistance.
Taking a deep breath, Corwin pushed the urge to fight aside. The time would come to escape. He just needed to wait for it.
And wait he did. For two whole days.
The silence and isolation proved maddening. For hours on end, Corwin spoke to no one and did nothing other than pace his rooms and search in vain for an escape. There was only the one door, guarded now and with the lock on it reversed. Several large windows offered pleasant views, but the drop to the ground would cripple even the strongest man. There was no making a rope either. After the guards led him in, the gold combed through the rooms, removing any possible weapon or tool. Corwin was left all the comforts he could want—clothes, a soft bed, hot running water—but the place was no less a prison.
Even worse was that no one had been allowed in to see him, save the servants who brought him his meals. Dal tried at least twice, arguing loudly with both the guards and the golds, but to no avail.
Worst of all, Corwin worried for Kate. Where was she? How long did she have before they began the Purging? He didn’t know. He’d willfully kept himself in ignorance about the Inquisition and its ways, choosing not to question too closely, nor to think too deeply. In hindsight it seemed obvious that he’d always understood that imprisoning people who had committed no crime was wrong, despite what they might do. Might or might never. How many innocents had been put to death already?
Kate could be the next. Oh gods, let me out of here! But the gods seemed unconcerned with his troubles.
Finally, desperate to do something besides wait, Corwin went to his desk and sat down. The map of the daydrake attacks he’d been keeping lay open before him. He stared at it, suddenly remembering Ralph Marcel. He’d been caught by the Inquisition, same as Kate, yet he’d escaped somehow. And that woman in Tyvald had claimed to Dal that she’d spotted another captured wilder running free.
Could there really be two? Corwin had seen enough of the gold-order houses from the outside to guess that escape wouldn’t be easy. The golds were like highly trained soldiers, fervent in their handling of wilders, and once collared, the wilders couldn’t use their magic, as he’d seen with that boy in Andreas. Even the boy’s mother had failed to harm the other magists when she attacked them. Kate’s chances of escape seemed impossible.
Then how had those others done it? Corwin opened the desk drawer where he’d stowed the letter from the golds in Andreas. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it, useless as it was, but now he read over it again, carefully studying it. It didn’t tell him anything new, except, when he examined the golds’ official seal, he saw it bore the outline of the grand master’s profile.
The arrogance. There could be no doubt Storr was the champion behind the Inquisition. Was there no limit to the man’s ambition? Did he think himself a king?
Yes, Corwin thought, answering his own question. Then a terrible truth dawned in his mind—perhaps Ralph Marcel and the others hadn’t escaped the golds at all. What if instead, the golds—led by the grand master—were using their powers for their own gain? Controlling the daydrakes . . .
The idea seemed absurd at first, but then Corwin saw the brilliance of it. Everything that had happened since the appearance of the daydrakes and the attack on the Gregors’ manor had only served to increase the League’s power. It had given Storr more and more leverage in high council meetings and had surely fattened the League’s coffers. Corwin examined the map of the attacks. The League’s involvement would explain how widespread they’d been, as well.
Corwin crumpled up the letter, venting his frustration. Something had to be done, but he was stuck in here. A prisoner—all thanks to Storr.
The sound of a key rattling pulled Corwin out of his angry reverie. He turned in time to see the door swing open and Edwin step inside.
“Edwin, thank the gods you’re here.” Corwin rose from the desk, his anger at his brother momentarily forgotten in his need for answers. “I think—” He broke off at one look at Edwin’s cold expression. Only then did he remember how close his brother had become with the grand master. They were confidants. Friends.
He won’t believe me without proof. Especially now that he thinks I’m a traitor. Anger surged inside Corwin. He ought to believe me first, though. We’re brothers.
And yet they weren’t. Thanks to the uror. Dal was more a brother to him.
Wordlessly, Edwin crossed the room to the table where the remnants of Corwin’s meal sat mostly uneaten. He poured a fresh cup of wine and took a deep drink before facing Corwin once more.
“Do you remember what it sounded like? Every time she took a breath?”
At once, Corwin’s anger went cold inside him, knowing exactly which she his brother referred to. Of course he remembered. It was a sound he would never forget, each in and out of her lungs a strained, wheezing rattle. For days after the trampling his mother lingered, fighting to live, to breathe.
“I remember.”
Edwin set down the cup hard, some of the wine sloshing over the side. “Do you truly? I find it hard to believe when you dishonor her memory so easily.”
Corwin glanced out the window, guilt prickling down his skin. His brother had always been good at making him feel wrong, even when he wasn’t. He pictured his mother’s face. The people had called her Queen Imogen the Gentle. He blamed himself for her death, but he also knew deep inside that she would’ve forgiven him for what happened. To let Edwin use her as a weapon against him now seemed the true dishonoring of her memory.
Corwin turned back to his brother. “My business with Kate has nothing to do with what happened to Mother.”
“She’s a wilder,” Edwin said. “And you knew. You’ve probably always known.”
Corwin fought to remain calm. “So what if I did? Kate hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Perhaps not yet. But what happens when she does? What excuses will you give the innocents harmed by her powers?”