Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(61)

We’re careful as we leave Celize, moving fast to erase our tracks until we reach Siron in the woods. Cohen runs his hands down the beast’s mane and shoulders, once, twice, three times before turning to me. It seems like he has something on his mind.

The horse blows out a breath and moves before I reach his side, leaving his owner and me face-to-face.

“Do you think the war could really be stopped?” I ask, thinking about the letters to Enat and all that Papa risked.

His boot digs the dirt. “Possibly.”

I fist my hands in the long folds of Enat’s blue dress. “I’ve been thinking about it,” I confess. “I want to finish what my father started.” Papa died trying to break the bind on the king to stop the war, and it feels like my duty to see it through. After all, I’ve come this far.

Cohen drags in a long breath and looks up to the sky, exposing his neck. “It’s too dangerous.”

I almost laugh at him but manage to stop myself when I realize he’s serious. Danger or not, doesn’t he realize this is the best way to save his brother and the thousands of other young men being sent to their deaths?

I’ve no clue what’s going through his head. It’s one thing to return to Malam to prove Cohen’s innocence. It’s another to find a way to free the king and convince him to end the war. It cannot be done alone.

“Now that the army is moving, we have to act fast,” I say encouragingly. “We should plan to return to Malam within the week.”

“We don’t have that much time.” He turns away and clicks for Siron, but the suddenly stubborn horse won’t come over. “If Omar and his men are already headed back to Malam, there must be some truth to the rumor. War could start as early as the chief judge’s letter reaches the front. My guess is Omar will try to beat the declaration party to warn Malam troops.”

He’s right. I pull the bonnet off my hair and start picking at the flecks of dirt left in my braid.

“I’ll meet with the Archtraitor tomorrow,” he confirms. “Then we’ll leave. I made a promise to keep Finn safe, and I won’t break it, even if everyone in Malam thinks I’m a murderer. Still, I’ll give you one more day, Britta.”



“Nice to see you made it back.” Enat stands beside the woodpile in front of her cottage with a basket resting against her hip.

“That almost sounded like a welcome.” I hop off Siron and lift the skirt of the dress so it doesn’t drag in the mud as I approach her.

She snorts. “Better than the arrow.”

“Ha. So true.” I point at the basket. “Where are you off to?”

“When I went out a few days ago, the thistleberries weren’t quite ripe. I’m hoping they’ll be ready today.”

The conversation with Cohen is on my mind as I watch her walk into the woods. Even if Millner identifies the murderer, we will still need her to break the spell on the king. Which, based on Papa’s letters, I’m assuming she can.

“Could you use some help?” I ask, and then gesture to the dress. “I could change quickly.”

Her brows lift, showing her surprise at my offer. She waves me toward the cottage. “Go on. I’ll wait for you. Company would be nice.”

Without hesitation, I rush inside the treehouse and into Enat’s room to strip off the blue garment. Once my breeches and tunic are in place, I hurry to her side, sparing a small wave at Cohen, who has made his way to the woodpile.

Enat doesn’t talk as we weave between giant tree trunks and over tangled roots. By the time we stop beside a prickly bush, the inside of my mouth is raw with how I’ve been worrying my lip. After the kindness she’s shown us, the thought of asking her to come to Malam, and possibly risk her life by using her Channeler gifts to save the king, doesn’t sit well with me. And yet, I must ask. There’s no other way to break the bind on the king.

She points at a nearby bush covered in tiny red berries. “This is chokewood. The leaves are good for making a healing tea, but the berries are poisonous.”

“So don’t eat them?”

“You’re like me, impudent to the core.”

I laugh at her assessment. I wouldn’t mind being more like her. She’s witty and strong and agile, as well as wicked with a bow.

“Gather the greener leaves from the bottom of the plant and pick these.” She plucks an arrow-shaped mushroom from where it’s tucked beneath the chokewood bush. “Find me when you’re done,” she says.

Ask her. Ask her. Ask—?

Enat ambles away. I curse inwardly and set to plucking leaves and mushrooms. She has to go with us; if only I knew the right words to ask.

My fingers are knuckle deep in black dirt when Enat returns. “If I hadn’t already met you, I’d think you were a shy little thing. Since I know better, tell me. Why are you so quiet over here?”

I snort. “Just busy picking the leaves.” I wipe my hands on my pants and drop the last of the mushrooms into the basket.

“Busy is an understatement.” She points at the bush where it’s glaringly bald. My cheeks redden. “Have something on your mind, Britta?”

I glance up, knowing now is the time to ask. Our immediate departure tomorrow doesn’t provide the luxury of putting off this request, not when Cohen’s frantic to reach his brother. I flick my hands, shaking the tightness out of my fingers and releasing my reservations in asking this task of her.