Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(48)

Pressure builds behind my eyes. I’m suddenly grateful for the steady patter of drops that have begun to fall all around us. Cohen’s hand lands on my shoulder. His reassuring touch gives me strength to continue.

“My name is Britta Flannery, Saul Flannery’s daughter. If you know anything about my father’s murder . . .” I tap my thumb against the sapphire. “I’ll trade this for information.”

There’s a gentle patter of movement, branches bending, a crack, and a few leaves tumble to the forest floor a dozen paces away. Then we hear a zipping sound before a woman emerges on a rope and swings to the ground. She releases her hold and lands in front of us in a crouch.

I stare, unblinkingly, at the older woman as she rises and approaches. A slight limp causes her body weight to shift side to side. She’s petite. Not much more than bone and firm muscle beneath wrinkles. Two spirited eyes, the color of the sky after a storm, blink at me from a weathered face.

“Why didn’t you say who you were earlier, Britta?” A smile suddenly blooms. “I’m Enat.”

I’m so shocked and relieved to see her and hear her answer that it takes a moment to recognize the absence of the feelings I’ve come to rely on. Her words register no warmth, no chill.

Nothing.





Chapter

21


THUNDER CRACKS OVERHEAD. A ZIP OF WHITE light illuminates the small clearing in front of Enat’s log home. What does nothing mean? Perhaps it has something to do with her being a Channeler.

Raindrops hit Enat’s shoulders, her wild white hair, her freckled hands, and she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s a rock in a slow-moving stream.

Cohen clears his throat. “Britta?” he whispers, waiting for me to say something.

“You really wanna trade me that dagger for information?” Her lips quirk in a sort of challenge.

“Y-Yes.”

She snorts. “Keep your dagger, girl. You’re gonna need that blade, unless you have another?” When neither of us answers, she tips her head. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

She ambles into the cottage, and it takes a moment to overcome my shock to follow. Cohen keeps a hand on the pommel of his sword as we enter the two-room tree cottage. A table, chairs, and a fireplace fill one room. The other holds a bed.

“Go on, sit down.” She gestures to the table as she hangs her bow.

Cohen’s wary glance tells me he is just as confused about her shift in attitude. He moves to the chair against the wall. I take the one beside him as Enat sits across from us.

“Briiiitta.” She draws out my name, almost like it’s a treasure. Her alarming blue eyes hold me in place as she props her elbows on the table and leans closer, poring over my features in deliberate study. “You’re persistent if anything. I like that about you.”

I shift in my seat and scrape my feet against the floor before settling to cross my legs at the ankle. Should I thank her?

“And resourceful,” she goes on. “Somehow you convinced one of Celize’s land Channelers to tell you where I live and give you a charm to see your way here.”

She doesn’t seem angry or irritated. If anything, she seems pleased.

“You’re also brave.” She glances at the slender bow strung on her wall and then me. “You didn’t bat an eye at my arrow.”

Cohen grouses about her aim under his breath. Beneath the table, I smack my knee into his and he grunts.

“It wasn’t bravery. It was necessity,” I explain. “We don’t have much time. Cohen’s been charged with my father’s murder. And we have only an eight-hour lead on the guards who are after us.”

Cohen thumps my leg in return, no doubt wary of sharing too much information.

“We need answers.” I don’t hesitate to say this. Enat is a smart woman, and we would risk losing her assistance if we mince words. “You’re our last hope.”

She leans back in her chair and rubs her chin as if forming a response, deciding what she’ll share.

“I knew your father,” Enat says, reluctantly, almost as if there is a catch to her admission.

I search myself for the telling sign of truth and again nothing. Cohen must see my frown because his brows rise subtly in question. I give a dismissive shake of my head. It’s not something I can explain now in front of her.

Cohen leans forward, eyes catching briefly on mine before he directs all his attention to Enat. “A lot of people knew him, but he was coming to meet you when he was killed. You know anything of that? What he was after?”

Trust Cohen to toss caution aside and cut to the point.

Her focus tightens a fraction, lines pinching around her eyes. “You tracked me down. You don’t know why?”

“No, we don’t,” he admits.

“You’ve come all this way. Surely you must’ve learned something about me. Any stories of interest?” Enat scrutinizes Cohen like she’s testing him. Or toying with him.

“We heard you practice black magic.” I blurt out the only rumor I’ve heard, wanting to prove our efforts despite our knowing scratch about her.

Cohen stares at me. I shrug.

“You have good instincts, girl.” Enat pounds a fist on the table and grins. This old gruff woman, I’m liking her more and more. “I’m the type of person who requires a forthright and honest answer, or I’ll not deal with you.” She looks pointedly at Cohen before she turns to me. “Your father wanted to pay for a spell.”