Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(59)

The soldiers are no more than an afterthought when Cohen nudges my arm and starts back toward camp.

I started this journey in part for my land, but mostly to avenge Papa. He was all I had, and I cannot accept that he was simply erased from this world for nothing. No, he died for a reason. I realize now, if I’m truly going to avenge his death, discovering the murderer isn’t enough.



Cohen and I return to Celize to monitor the guards. If they decide to head back to Malam, we’ll want to follow them once we find Papa’s murderer. We’ll be able to stick to the main roads. It would take a week off of travel.

“The guards have seen you dress as a boy,” he says, and then plucks a bonnet from a clothesline on the outskirts of town. “If you wear the dress Enat gave you and put this on to cover your hair, they’ll walk right past you.”

Cohen moves into my space to put the bonnet on my head. He takes his time tying a bow beneath my chin.

I rush to look at my reflection in the window of the next cottage to hide the way my heart leaps.

“They’ll still see my braid.” I spin around when he approaches. “My hair is too white not to notice.”

“Your hair isn’t white. In the sun, it looks lighter, but it’s definitely blond, pale blond. Either way, the bonnet will cover some and you can rub a mud and berry mix on your braid to darken the color.”

I roll my neck, refusing to think of his observation. It means nothing more than he noticed my hair is blond. Pale blond. When we find a shaded corner, I pull Enat’s dress from my bag and change. Cohen stands a few paces off, guarding my location. I crouch to pick up some mud and mix it with the berries Cohen had picked up. After making a thin paste, I work it through the part of my hair that shows. Once I’m ready, I tap him on the shoulder.

He turns around and his brows rise. “You—?you look fine.”

While I changed outfits, Cohen rubbed dirt on his. I stifle a smile. “What will your disguise be? Pig farmer?”

“I’m a beggar.” He pulls a frayed cap from his satchel, places it on his head, and then bows forward, morphing his entire posture.

“The point of a disguise is to look different than you usually do.”

“Amusing,” he deadpans.

Like the night before, we split up, this time planning to meet at noon outside the stone church at the south end of town.

I head toward the guards’ inn to chat up the housemaid. Walking in plain sight is disconcerting. I have to keep reminding myself to stop fidgeting with the dress. To take smaller steps. To smile instead of scowling. I’d give anything to trade the bonnet for a bow and arrow.

I’m a block away from the inn when Captain Omar and Tomas appear ahead.

I suck in a sliver of oxygen. I try to judge the amount of time till they reach me—?two minutes at most—?while scanning the road for a hiding place. There are no outlets, not enough people on the street to hide in a crowd, and no open doors. Reaching for one that may be locked would draw attention.

Up ahead, a flower cart sits on the east side of the road. It’s not quite half the distance between them and me. I head there, eyes down. I try to act interested in the flowers as the guards approach.

When they pass, I say a silent thanks.

“Anything for the lady?” the vendor says.

I shake my head, not wanting to speak aloud, since the guards aren’t far enough away. The vendor purses his lips and turns to another customer. When the guards are out of sight, I continue to the inn.

The housemaid is in the kitchen. She looks up, alerted by my footsteps. Her hands pause on the pot she was scrubbing. “Need a room?”

In my best Shaerdanian accent, I say, “No. My mum runs the tailor shop down the way. I was wondering if you had any customers who need mending done.”

“Hmm, don’t think so.”

I hold back a frown, though somewhat irritated she’s not falling into my trap. “Oh, Mum thought you had a full house.” I try again. “You’re certain nobody needs some mending in the next day or so?”

“Not this week. We haven’t had much business, what with everyone called off to fight. We do have some soldiers staying here while they’re awaiting an assignment from the chief judge. They haven’t made a peep about needing a seamstress.”

“Some soldiers were headed east earlier this morning. Are they part of that group?” I hope the comment fishes the answers I’m looking for.

Her eyes go round. “Oh, you saw men leaving already? Oh my. Perhaps the soldiers will be leaving soon, then.”

If she only knew the guards weren’t soldiers from Shaerdan. “I’ll tell my mum you had no tailoring that needed to be done.”

“Will you stop by again?” She’s friendly in a way girls have never treated me. It almost makes me want to linger. “Perhaps we’ll have more work for you in the winter months.”

A door opens and closes in the inn before heavy footsteps fall on the wood floor. Through the opening that separates the kitchen from the dining room, Leif’s reddish hair is distinguishable. He stops at the table and places a bag on top. Dress or no dress, I’ve no doubt he’ll recognize me if he notices me. Not wanting to risk speaking, I shrug in answer to her question and then move toward the kitchen’s back door.

“What did you say your name was?” she asks, before I’m clear.