A muscle ticked in Corwin’s jaw. “How can I trust you, Kate? When you’ve kept such things from me all this time?”
“That’s not fair, Corwin. You know it’s not. Wilders are put to death just for being who we are. We’re hunted like animals.” Tears burned in her eyes, all the agony she felt for Kiran and Bonner, for herself, rising to the surface. “But wilder or no, I’m still the same Kate I’ve always been. I’m still me.”
Corwin dropped his gaze, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. He examined the uror mark on his palm, tracing it with a finger. Then, finally, he looked up again, the anger gone from his gaze, his expression solemn.
“You’re right. I can see you had no choice. But you’ve got to understand how this looks, knowing your father could do what you can. There’s no telling what—” Corwin broke off, his features slackening into surprise. Then a wild, eager look rose in his eyes. “But what you’re saying isn’t true. Someone does know what happened.”
“Who?”
“My father. He was there. He saw everything.”
“Well, yes, Corwin,” Kate said, uncertain, “but King Orwin’s not well in the mind. You said it yourself.”
“Yes, I did.” He gestured at her. “But you’ve the power to enter minds. To read the thoughts of people.”
The realization struck Kate like lightning, too shocking to fully comprehend.
“Can you do it?” Corwin said, his reservations about what she could do forgotten for the moment.
“I don’t know.” Her mind spun, just as caught up in the idea. Could it really be that simple? The key to unlocking the mystery, nothing more than using her magic? She nodded to herself, hope filling her like air. “But I’m willing to try.”
“All right,” Corwin said, a slight tremor in his voice and his blue eyes suddenly ablaze. “Let’s do it, then. Maybe we can put this mystery to rest once and forever.”
“Yes,” Kate said, telling herself not to mistake his willingness here as acceptance. But perhaps it was a start. Even if it wasn’t, even if he turned on her later, at least she had this chance to find the truth at last. That made the risk worth it.
31
Kate
THE KING’S CHAMBERS REEKED OF his sickness, a cloying, putrid smell that Kate could almost taste on the back of her tongue. The king himself sat in a cushioned armchair next to the window, his dull gaze fixed on some random point outside. Pale light beyond heralded the approach of night. She would have to hurry before her magic faded and they lost the chance. As it was, her nerves crackled beneath her skin with the worry that they would be discovered at any moment.
Or that Corwin might suddenly change his mind and call for the golds. In the long walk over here, they’d shared only silence, and he’d not touched her once, not even an accidental brush of his arm against hers as they moved side by side down the corridors.
“Good evening, father,” Corwin said, coming to stand just behind the king.
When Orwin didn’t respond, he motioned to Kate. “Do . . . whatever it is you need to do. We’ve only a few minutes before the servants come with his supper and before I must make an appearance at the banquet.”
Kate nodded, too tense to speak. It wasn’t just the idea of invading the king’s mind, but also of letting Corwin watch. She felt as if she stood here naked, all of her laid bare before him for the first time, and without the reassurance of the love he’d confessed earlier. His acceptance now was uneasy at best.
Carefully not looking at Corwin, Kate reached out to King Orwin, her stomach clenched in both pity and revulsion at the worn, sickly look of him. This was not the man she’d known. She’d once thought Corwin’s description of his illness was a son’s despairing exaggeration, but she could see now it wasn’t. Not at all. Something is wrong here. She felt it, the same way she’d felt the wrongness in the Wandering Woods that day, in the minds of the drakes.
Steeling her courage, Kate laid her palm against the king’s shoulder. Then she closed her eyes and reached out to him with her magic. The moment she touched his mind, she knew it was a mistake. She felt the spell close in around her, a trap that had been set for her—or others like her.
Like my father.
She opened her eyes just long enough to see the brightening glow on the magestone around King Orwin’s neck, the way it pulsed a warning—sending out an alarm to whoever had created the spell in it and given it to the king.
Kate tried to break away, but it was too late. The magic held her in its grasp. Then against her will she felt thoughts and memories and feelings pouring into her, like a floodgate at the moment of breaking. It was too much, too strong, King Orwin’s mind a broken vessel. She felt her own mind being drawn into his until she was seeing the world through his eyes and the slant of his memory. Corwin and the room vanished away as time slowed and Kate slipped into the past. . . .
IT’S EARLY, DAWN just breaking over the horizon. Orwin lies in his bed, wakeful still as he has been all night. Sleep rarely comes for him anymore. Not now that he sleeps alone, his wife dead for nearly a year.
He hears the footsteps long before the knock sounds on the door. It’s Hale. He knows it before he calls for entrance. Hale has come to continue the argument from last night, to try to plead against the Inquisition, but Orwin won’t hear of it. The Inquisition is right. It’s just. The wilders must be stopped. It is as Master Storr claims—the crown must protect the people from the dangers wilders pose. Even children can do great harm. The wilder who set the fire in the market that day was just a boy, and yet he was responsible for so much destruction, pain, and suffering—all of it inflicted on the innocent, those incapable of defending themselves against such power.
Like his poor Imogen. Even now he hears the sound of her death cries, the pitiful, labored breathing. It haunts his sleep, his soul.
Hale enters, bowing before his king and friend. “Please, Orwin. You must reconsider. This isn’t right. Too much can go wrong. It gives the League too much power, which is just what Storr wants.”
“I am not concerned with Storr and his ambitions,” Orwin says. “In this, he and I are agreed. We are determined to eradicate this wild magic from our land once and for all. Only then can we live in peace, knowing our children, our wives, are safe.”
“What about those who never do harm? Who want to live in peace as well? There are innocents among them.”
Orwin grits his teeth, refusing to hear. “But they still possess a power that no shield can block, no sword cut down.”
“Pistols can’t be stopped with a shield or armor either. Yet we allow them.”
“Those weapons can be taken away. These cannot.”
“Yes, but we don’t take them away until they’ve been used for harm. Not before.”
Orwin answers with a glare, done with words.
Hale looks away, shaking his head reluctantly in defeat. When he raises his gaze, Orwin feels a pressure building in his temple. It’s foreign, alien, an outside force, like the power of a mage spell.
“I’m sorry, my king,” Hale says, and his voice seems to be inside Orwin’s head. “I can’t let this happen. Please forgive me. I would never force your will if there were any other choice.”
“What do you—”
Hale raises his hand and touches Orwin’s forehead. Pain explodes inside Orwin’s skull, and he screams, feeling ripped asunder.
Hale stumbles backward, and his expression turns fearful. He gapes in horror. “What magic is this?”
Orwin doesn’t answer. Stooped over, he cradles his aching skull. Hands touch his shoulders, pushing him upright.
Hale grabs for the king’s neck, and his fingers close around the glowing stone at Orwin’s throat. “Where did you get this?”
Orwin doesn’t answer. He has no memory of the stone or its purpose.
Cursing, Hale yanks the stone free of Orwin’s neck. But he grips it too hard, breaking the stone. The magic oozes out from it in a gray, oily mist. It slithers upward, sl
iding into Orwin’s nose, his mouth, his ears. Hale cries out, trying to stop it, but such formless power can’t be stopped.
Orwin feels the magic inside him, writhing like something alive. It’s in his head, the pressure building. He claws at the sides of his face now. But then his mind shatters, his vision fragmented, like staring into a broken mirror.
“My king, my king,” Hale says, trying in vain to help. “What have I done? I didn’t know. I didn’t. I would—”
Senseless and no longer in control, a murderous rage explodes inside Orwin. Screaming, he lunges for the dagger at Hale’s side. Pulling it free, Orwin moves to strike, but Hale raises his hands in time to stop the blow. The two men struggle. A small part of Orwin understands what’s happening—that he’s no longer in control of himself. Something has pushed him aside and taken over. He can’t stop it, even though he wants to. The rest of him is determined to kill the man before him.
But Hale has always been stronger. He gains control of the dagger, but Orwin is frantic with the rage pulsing inside him. The dagger shifts, the blade turning downward. And then it plunges, sinking deep into Orwin’s thigh.
“Oh gods, Orwin,” Hale says.
Orwin screams again just as the door opens and Corwin rushes inside. “Father!” . . .
Without warning, the memory broke and Kate was hurled from Orwin’s mind back into her own. Gasping, she bent over and grabbed her head, the inside of her skull aching with the memory of what Orwin had suffered. What he suffered still.
“Kate? Are you all right? What happened?” Corwin’s hands slid around her shoulders, warm and steadying.
“Magic,” she said. “The magestone around his neck. It was a trap.” She looked up at Corwin, the truth expanding in her mind like clouds parting to reveal the sky. “Someone knew what my father was going to try, only the magic went wrong. It infected your father and—” She broke off, her gaze flicking to the magestone King Orwin wore. She remembered the alarm she’d sensed when she first touched his mind. She turned back to Corwin. “We’ve got to get out—”
The door across from them burst open, and three people rushed inside—Maestra Vikas, Prince Edwin, and Grand Master Storr.
“You!” Kate screamed, the king’s memory fresh in her mind. Storr had planted the idea in Orwin’s head, nurtured it. He was the most powerful magist in the kingdom. “You did this. You killed my father.” He might not have wielded the ax, but he’d set the trap.
“What’s going on here?” Edwin demanded, his gaze flashing from Kate to Master Storr, then to Corwin.
“Wilder!” Maestra Vikas cried. “Just like I said.”
The maestra raised her mace toward Kate, a magestone starting to glow. The spell erupted out from it, soared through the air, and struck Kate with the force of a battering ram. It lifted her off her feet and threw her down. Her head cracked against the floor and a starburst lit her vision, blinding her. Then darkness set in, absolute and inescapable.
Part Three
The Rising
32
Corwin
“KATE!” CORWIN CRIED, RUSHING TO where she’d fallen. He glared over at Maestra Vikas. “What did you do?”
“Step away from her, your highness,” Vikas replied coolly. “She is a wilder, I’m certain of it.”
It was true, Corwin knew it beyond doubt, and yet this woman was head of the gold order. He couldn’t just hand Kate over to her. “What are you talking about? This is madness.”
“Is it?” Vikas approached and reached toward Kate. Corwin tried to push her away, but the maestra moved as quickly as a snake striking. She pulled on the leather cord Kate had been wearing about her neck, revealing the glowing diamond that had been hidden beneath her shirt.
Vikas stood and held up the magestone necklace for all to see. “Then how do you explain this?”
“It’s a magestone,” Corwin said, scowling. “Made with mage magic, not a wilder’s.”
Ignoring him, Vikas turned to Storr. “This is what I warned you about, grand master. It’s a spell designed to hide wilder magic.”
Storr stared at it, frowning. Corwin remembered Kate’s shouted accusation that the grand master had killed her father. Someone set a trap, she’d also said. Someone had known Hale would try to use his sway to change King Orwin’s mind about the Inquisition—and Storr had been behind it from the beginning. But would he go so far as to manipulate my father?
Yes. A hundred times yes.
And yet Corwin couldn’t understand it. What did the grand master gain by the Inquisition? There had to be something. Corwin had never seen Storr do anything that wasn’t politically motivated.
“I’ve never seen a spell like this,” Storr said, taking the magestone from Vikas and examining it. He sounded genuinely puzzled—vexed even. He glanced at Corwin, then turned to Edwin, his expression now grave. “It’s treason to harbor a wilder, your highness.”
Corwin drew a sharp breath. Treason. The notion was absurd, ridiculous—and yet true, according to the law.
Edwin stared at the grand master, his expression torn. His eyes flicked to Kate, then up to Corwin. “Did you know it, brother? What she is?”
A chill crept down Corwin’s spine at the disbelief in Edwin’s voice and the betrayal already rising in his expression. “Kate isn’t a criminal, Edwin. No matter what they say.”
Anger steadied Edwin’s voice. “I didn’t ask if she is a criminal but if she is a wilder. And if you knew.”
“She’s not a wilder,” Corwin said, embracing the lie to protect Kate from the hatred he sensed in Edwin. One that had been there since the day their mother died. “She is innocent.”
“You’re lying, Corwin. You forget how well I know you. You can’t lie to me.” Edwin cut his eyes to Master Storr. “What happens now?”
“Knowingly harboring a wilder is treason, as I said.”
Corwin’s hands clenched into fists. “You can’t be serious. I’m the high prince and nothing happened here.” He gestured to his father, who had remained as still and silent as ever.
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 t
he 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.
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