Free Gate to Kandrith (The Kandrith Series) by Nicole Luiken

conveniently put him on the same level as Felicia, and began to walk his horse. Sara sent the lovely chestnut gelding a covetous glance. She wished she could ride instead of being sequestered inside the stuffy, bumpy carriage, but it was, of course, unladylike.
    Sara felt the rest of the outriders’ eyes on her like a heavy hand, but her rank and their captain’s scowl kept them from approaching her as she walked a short ways into the field. Within moments, all the outriders not assigned to watch the road had been drawn into Felicia’s orbit, leaving Sara in peace.
    The wind rippled through the grain like ocean waves. Sara trailed her hands through the green wheat and felt the tension flow out of her.
    The field was small, bounded by an orchard and a neat stone wall, but it reminded her of the Remillus estate in northern Elysinia, which bordered on the grasslands. Sara had run wild in them as a girl.
    Aunt Evina disdained the country as boring, but Sara would trade all Temborium’s frantic socializing for the endless horizon of the prairies. Sara never realized how penned up she felt in the city until she drove outside and the walls disappeared.
    She turned to walk a little farther and suddenly noticed the second, equally plain carriage in their entourage. Her father had told her that the ambassador from Slaveland was returning to his country, but not why. Sara’s eyes narrowed in speculation. A high-ranking ambassador might well know the secret of his country’s magic. If he had been recalled in disgrace, he might be persuaded to part with the information for a large bribe.
    Then she wouldn’t have to enter Slaveland at all.
    Sara instantly decided to switch vehicles. She could start to fulfill her task and avoid Julen at the same time. She headed toward the second carriage with purposeful strides.
    Its door opened just as she arrived, and a tall, brawny man jumped down. The ambassador didn’t seem to be in a good mood; he was swearing creatively and holding his right hand tight against his chest.
    He had light skin and looked younger than the graybeard Sara had expected. Then he straightened up, and she stopped breathing.
    It was him. Her rescuer from last night.
    Sara’s first thought, that he must be the ambassador’s servant, died a quick death. The carriage door hung open, the compartment obviously empty. Which meant—
    She found herself staring at his chest. The same thickly muscled chest she’d caressed last night while drugged. A horrible tide of heat crept over her, embarrassment and…something else. It couldn’t be attraction; the jazoria had worn off hours ago.
    She didn’t want to look up, afraid of what she might see on his face: contempt, lust, amusement. But she was a Remillus. Remilluses didn’t hide.
    Sara met his gaze and saw that he looked as appalled as she felt. “Did you know?” Sara asked baldly.
    He shook his head.
    Oddly, Sara believed him, and she relaxed. “I didn’t know who you were either.”
    A hard light entered his brown eyes. “You thought I was a slave.”
    Sara shook her head. “Only at first and only because your hair and clothes are not those of a noble. But you gave yourself away in a hundred small ways. This morning I decided you were an equitain.”
    In the dark, she’d primarily been aware of his body, his face hidden in shadow. Now she noticed the strength of will stamped on his square jaw and the intelligence in his brown eyes.
    He didn’t look appeased. In silence, he extended his wrist toward her, turning it so that she saw the bone brand seared into his flesh. At some point in his life he’d been a Bone Slave, an osseon.
    Sara winced. She’d bungled this badly; she should have realized someone from Slaveland might be a former slave, but she’d assumed an ambassador would have been at least a generation removed from such poor beginnings. When she dared look up, he regarded her with a coolly expectant expression—probably waiting for her to throw up her