Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(33)
Cohen mutters a curse under his breath and tugs the reins north. “Padrin’s not far off. It’s a small forest village, away from the main road. We’ll sleep there.”
“Shouldn’t we stay in the woods?” My jaw jitters. Though the idea of sleeping somewhere warm appeals to me, it would be reckless. It’s easier to escape the guards if we steer clear of towns. I can tough it out. A little cold has never hurt me.
“You need a decent night’s rest, maybe two.” His arm flexes around my midsection.
When I object again, his chin dips closer to my ear, his voice insistent. “We’ve been in streams and backwoods for five days on a zigzag course to lose them. Padrin is so far from the main road, they’d never consider checking for us there.” His proximity muddles my thoughts. Makes me think a night indoors doesn’t sound half bad. “If anything, Britt, a day or two there will get them off our scent.”
The planes of Cohen’s torso down to the muscled ridge of his abdomen tense behind me. I cannot stop another shiver from seizing me. He makes a small noise as if my shudder is due to the cold and I’ve proven his point. “We’re sleeping on a bed tonight.”
If there weren’t a road leading into Padrin, a traveler might miss the forest-camouflaged town. The shops and homes, the color of mud, sit wedged between thick, gnarled trees. An earthy tang of new rain mixed with lumber and ripe manure masks the air around a pig farm on the far west reach of town.
Bludger, it’s terrible. At least the odor works to mask Cohen’s inebriating scent. The man’s been traveling for days. Weeks. How can he smell so good?
Cohen nudges Siron toward an inn that sits on the edge of the forest. “I know the owner—?he’s an informant of mine,” he explains as we ride along the back to the stable. “He’ll alert us to any trouble.”
Cohen leaves to make arrangements for rooms while I wait in the stable with Siron, who, per usual, regards me with a casual glance and a snort, though he seems chipper to be out of the woods. Not much later, male voices echo from outside the stable just before Cohen enters with an older man who could be my father’s age.
“I’m Kendrick.” The man extends his callused hand to me in a handshake and then claps me on the back. “Put some more meat on your bones, lad. You’re a mouse compared to Cohen.”
I cough to cover my surprise and realize the cap still hides my hair. Even so, the word “lad” rankles. Outside the well, Cohen didn’t seem to care that the woman knew I was a girl. If it was safe there, why wouldn’t it be safe around his friend? Why didn’t Cohen introduce me to his friend? I’m probably being ridiculous, but it feels a lot like the stinging rejection of my youth. Cohen was never ashamed to introduce me as his friend when we were younger. In fact, he often stood up for me. So what’s changed?
My thoughts are apparently loud enough to garner a questioning stare from Cohen.
I push down my annoyance and give him a subtle headshake, letting him know it’s nothing. Since it should be nothing.
“Have you any news?” Cohen asks.
Kendrick’s eyes dart to me, and Cohen says something about me being trustworthy.
The man’s questioning expression changes to acceptance. “The courier you asked about, Duff Baron, will be in town tomorrow’s eve for the Merryluna Festival.”
“You’re certain?” Cohen’s eyes brighten.
“Aye. His mother releases the moonflowers every year into the fountain at midnight. He always comes to watch.”
“Looks like I’ll be needing to stay two nights instead.” The men chuckle while I piece together what’s going on. Seems as though this Duff Baron person may know something about my father’s murder and will be at the town’s celebration. I was going to insist we only stay one night, but if he can answer questions about Papa, it’ll be worth sticking around.
The conversation shifts to Cohen’s brother, Finn. And a spark of pain shoots through Cohen’s eyes.
“Finn’s been called to fight in the war. He’s stationed at Alyze, just north of Fennit.” Cohen’s answer comes as a complete shock, since he hasn’t mentioned Finn or his army assignment the entire time we’ve been together. It floods me with guilt. I’ve been so bent on finding out why Cohen left that I didn’t think to even ask about his family.
“No matter what side he’s on, the lad’s too young for the war front.” Sympathy pours from Kendrick.
He leads us back to the inn, where a young boy and girl come bolting through the door. They’re a twisting windstorm of laughter and squeals.
“Mattie. Meg!” Kendrick fixes them with a stern gaze.
Both kids skid to a halt. The girl clamps a little dirt-stained hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. The boy is less successful.
“Have you gathered the eggs?”
The boy’s laughter fades. “Not yet, Papa.”
Both children’s faces turn repentant as Kendrick gives them a light scolding before sending them on their way.
“Nine and ten years old . . . think they have the run of the inn.” Kendrick puffs out a breath of exasperation, but tenderness softens his expression. Reminded of the way Papa used to chastise me and Cohen, I feel a small lump catch in my throat as we follow him inside the inn.
Kendrick gestures to a cozy, torch-lit hallway beyond the kitchen area. “Get some rest. The boy looks like he could use it.”