fortress loomed in her memory, monstrous and beautiful. Who—or what—could have built that? The only thing she was sure of was the way her heart constricted every time Kaede left, and every time she felt it, she was more determined to make sure it never happened. But now the guilt confused her. Why hadn’t she felt it before? She was bewildered; she was frustrated. She didn’t understand the version of herself in the vision. That Taisin had emotions that the present-day Taisin—the one clutching her cloak to her chest in the King’s palace—couldn’t relate to. Was she fated to become that other Taisin?
Restless, she went to the windows overlooking the courtyard and unlatched them, curling up on the window seat. She tried to remind herself who she was right now, at midnight, in this grand, noiseless palace. She was a student at the Academy of Sages; she was in her sixth year, nearly ready to receive the mark. She was the daughter of two farmers; she was an older sister to Suri. She was not in love with the daughter of the King’s Chancellor.
She repeated these facts to herself over and over as if they were a mantra until she fell asleep, her head leaning against the window frame.
Chapter IX
K aede awoke the morning after the banquet with a thrill of excitement inside her: Today was the day. She couldn’t wait to leave Cathair behind. Her earlier misgivings were forgotten; now she tasted the allure of adventure.
Three guards were waiting with Con and Taisin in the palace stable’s south courtyard when Kaede and her father arrived. Though a few stable hands were standing nearby with the horses, no one else had come to see them off, and the small group was dwarfed by the vast expanse of carefully raked gravel around them. Even Taisin had arrived alone, having already said good-bye to her family. Kaede supposed they were already following Con’s plan to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
The prince introduced Kaede to Tali, a burly guard with a salt-and-pepper beard and hair shot through with gray. The second guard, Pol, moved with the stealthy grace of a dancer. He was older than Con but younger than Tali, and he spoke with a northern accent. The third guard, Shae, was Con’s age or perhaps a year or two older, and like the other guards and Con, she wore her black hair cut very short. She had expressive dark brown eyes, and there was a liveliness in her that Kaede liked immediately.
There were four riding horses, and two hitched to a supply wagon. Taisin would ride with Pol on the wagon seat; Con, Tali, and Shae would ride their own horses; and Tali led a chestnut mare to Kaede. “Con tells me you can keep up with us,” the guard said.
She had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I can.”
“Good.” Tali gave her an unexpectedly encouraging smile. “The mare’s name is Maila.” He left her with the horse and went to talk to her father and Con.
When everything had been checked one last time, Kaede’s father came to kiss her formally on both cheeks. The press of his lips was so dry and light that she might have imagined them. “Go safely,” he said.
She felt a twinge of disappointment at how distant he was. She did not see that he turned his face away to hide the worry that lined his forehead.
They exited Cathair through the North Gate, passing a short line of travelers waiting to be admitted into the city. There was no encampment outside this gate, only brown fields with patches of moss growing over the ground. Every so often they passed a family walking toward Cathair, their belongings dragged behind them on a handcart or piled onto their backs. At noon they stopped by the side of the road to eat steamed bread stuffed with salty pork.
“From the palace kitchens this morning,” Tali said as he passed around the buns. “We won’t get much of this from now on, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
Kaede took a bite as a gust of wind blew around them. The horses stamped. In the
Restless, she went to the windows overlooking the courtyard and unlatched them, curling up on the window seat. She tried to remind herself who she was right now, at midnight, in this grand, noiseless palace. She was a student at the Academy of Sages; she was in her sixth year, nearly ready to receive the mark. She was the daughter of two farmers; she was an older sister to Suri. She was not in love with the daughter of the King’s Chancellor.
She repeated these facts to herself over and over as if they were a mantra until she fell asleep, her head leaning against the window frame.
Chapter IX
K aede awoke the morning after the banquet with a thrill of excitement inside her: Today was the day. She couldn’t wait to leave Cathair behind. Her earlier misgivings were forgotten; now she tasted the allure of adventure.
Three guards were waiting with Con and Taisin in the palace stable’s south courtyard when Kaede and her father arrived. Though a few stable hands were standing nearby with the horses, no one else had come to see them off, and the small group was dwarfed by the vast expanse of carefully raked gravel around them. Even Taisin had arrived alone, having already said good-bye to her family. Kaede supposed they were already following Con’s plan to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
The prince introduced Kaede to Tali, a burly guard with a salt-and-pepper beard and hair shot through with gray. The second guard, Pol, moved with the stealthy grace of a dancer. He was older than Con but younger than Tali, and he spoke with a northern accent. The third guard, Shae, was Con’s age or perhaps a year or two older, and like the other guards and Con, she wore her black hair cut very short. She had expressive dark brown eyes, and there was a liveliness in her that Kaede liked immediately.
There were four riding horses, and two hitched to a supply wagon. Taisin would ride with Pol on the wagon seat; Con, Tali, and Shae would ride their own horses; and Tali led a chestnut mare to Kaede. “Con tells me you can keep up with us,” the guard said.
She had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I can.”
“Good.” Tali gave her an unexpectedly encouraging smile. “The mare’s name is Maila.” He left her with the horse and went to talk to her father and Con.
When everything had been checked one last time, Kaede’s father came to kiss her formally on both cheeks. The press of his lips was so dry and light that she might have imagined them. “Go safely,” he said.
She felt a twinge of disappointment at how distant he was. She did not see that he turned his face away to hide the worry that lined his forehead.
They exited Cathair through the North Gate, passing a short line of travelers waiting to be admitted into the city. There was no encampment outside this gate, only brown fields with patches of moss growing over the ground. Every so often they passed a family walking toward Cathair, their belongings dragged behind them on a handcart or piled onto their backs. At noon they stopped by the side of the road to eat steamed bread stuffed with salty pork.
“From the palace kitchens this morning,” Tali said as he passed around the buns. “We won’t get much of this from now on, so enjoy it while it lasts.”
Kaede took a bite as a gust of wind blew around them. The horses stamped. In the
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