Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(62)

“Will you . . . can you tell me about Channelers?” Seeds, I’m a coward.

“I’m willing to talk to you about Channelers, but tell me this: Do you want to learn about Channelers, or are you asking me how to break the curse on Malam’s king?”

“Both,” I admit truthfully.





Chapter

27


HER LIPS PRESS INTO A WRINKLED LINE. She moves to my side of the bush and begins plucking berries, her curled fingers working methodically. “All right,” she says finally. “Since they go hand in hand, I can do that.”

My hands go still over the leaves, relief singing through me. Her response makes me realize how much I want to know about Channelers. Learning how to break the bind is the cream on top. Ever since I healed the dog, I’ve been curious about what happened. If what I did is related to a Channeler gift, Enat may finally have some answers.

She examines the bush beside me. “It’s a rare thing to have an ability. Most Channelers would never use their ability to hurt another. That doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. When it does happen, it’s called black magic.”

The clergyman said Enat uses black magic. Though she doesn’t seem the type to hurt another, even if she’s all bluster.

“Most Channelers would never attempt to use their power to harm because when a gift is used wrongly, it changes the Channeler. On the inside and outside. It’s called black magic because it stains a person’s heart and mind, changing their heart’s intent and warping them into someone or something else.” The lines around her eyes deepen as she looks down at her curled fingers.

“So Channelers use their connection to nature to help people? Like a water Channeler makes Beannach water?”

She snaps leaves off a small bush that grows at the base of the massive redwood. “You know of Beannach water?”

I weave the story of what happened beside the well, explaining how I healed Jacinda’s dog and then suffered from a strange temporary exhaustion.

“You’re a lucky girl.” Enat nods thoughtfully. “Jacinda’s ability to create Beannach water is rare.”

I don’t know what’s more shocking, that Enat is familiar with Jacinda, or that she has no reaction to my story.

“So if a water Channeler can influence water, then a Spiriter can influence people’s spirits?” I ask, forging on.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Since you’re a Spiriter, can you break the other Spiriter’s bind on the king?”

Her blue-eyed gaze turns upward to the pine needles before returning to me. “I haven’t done it before, but I believe I can. If close enough to the man. It’s a spell of proximity.”

“Then will you come to Malam with us and try to break the curse?” A sharp prick of pain in my finger makes me realize my grip on the bush is too tight. I flick the thorn from my skin, cursing silently.

Enat gently sifts through the berries in her basket. It feels like years passing in the moments before she speaks.

She meets my gaze. Hers is steady and strong. “I’ll go.”

I let out a sigh, washed with relief. Cohen will be happy he waited one more day. Though Enat’s willingness to go doesn’t guarantee Finn’s safety, it’s a step in the right direction. Now all that’s left to do is talk to the Archtraitor. If he can identify the murderer, we’ll be headed back to Malam to declare Cohen’s innocence and stop the war.

“I’ve twice as many berries as you, and I’m nearly three times your age,” Enat says with a laugh as she looks into my basket. “Maybe we should talk less and pick more.”

I groan my protest, though I don’t mind at all; little of my life has been spent around women like Enat. The needles at the tops of the trees glint like fat emeralds in the afternoon sun, shimmering above as I follow her with a full basket on my arm.

Moving nimbly, Enat crawls over a tangle of roots that skirt a moss-painted trunk. “You should know the majority of Channelers have only a hint of the original ability. Most are not like Jacinda.”

I scramble around the tree and fall into step beside her. Papa once bred a horse and a donkey to get a mule, and though it’s a crude thought to pop into my head, it makes me wonder about Enat’s magic.

“Could two Channelers marry?” I ask. “And create stronger offspring?”

Her foot pauses midstep over a root arching out of the ground, and a donkey-esque guffaw of a laugh bursts from her mouth. “Marry? No. Channelers are always women, since the gift is passed through the maternal line.”

It never occurred to me women are the only ones with the gift. But of course that’s the case. Still, my question is too funny not to laugh. I join in her chuckling until tears leak from her eyes.

After wiping her face and restoring some order, she adds, “We all have blue eyes.”

Hers are the deep cerulean of the ocean, unlike mine, which are pale blue, a sister shade to frost. Britta, your eyes are blue like the jewels, blue like your mother’s.

I almost laugh once more at the whirl of my thoughts, though unlike before, the humor is eclipsed by uneasiness sliding around beneath my skin. I want to scratch the feeling away. Two weeks from turning eighteen, and it seems as though I may not know myself at all.

It’s growing more evident every day that Papa kept one more secret from me.