Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(72)

“It’s much colder in Malam. Here the temperature stays close to the same all year. But in Malam, where we have to travel through the high plains and mountains to reach Brentyn, it’ll likely be close to first frost. This should be enough to keep warm.” She pats the material, wool that is the same shade as heavy clouds before a rainstorm.

“You won’t need it if you teach me how to break the bind,” I say.

She turns to me with a sideways glance. “Why do you want to know that?”

My response has run through my head a hundred times, and still it catches on my tongue. I clench my fists and push myself to say what needs to be said. “It’s too dangerous for you to go. You could show me what to do, and I’ll do it.” Even though I want her to come, it would be selfish to allow it.

“No. I’ve already given you my word. I’ll go.” She stands and shakes out the cloak so dust particles dance off the material into the slant of fading window light.

“Enat, there are too many dangers. Crossing the border won’t be easy. But if you come, you’ll have to cross it twice. Who knows what awaits us when we get to the palace. You’re risking your life.”

She hmms to herself as she inspects the cloak but gives no further acknowledgment to my comment.

Cohen chooses this moment to duck his head into the room. “I’ve checked over the horses, and they’re ready.”

“Willow hasn’t ridden east before,” says Enat. “Did you make sure to pack an extra blanket for her?”

“Yeah. What about the other horse? Acorn?”

“Aspen,” she corrects. “He’ll be fine, though an extra blanket wouldn’t hurt. Especially if we hit a storm head-on. This time of year, the fall weather in Malam tends to rage before winter.”

It’s been almost a month since I left Malam. It amazes me how easily I’ve overlooked my country’s season change. Being here in the warmth and lush forests has been a nice reprieve. Now it’s time to return to frost and rocky mountains.

“You can remain here and not have to spend weeks traveling to Malam and back.” I try approaching the subject again as soon as Cohen leaves the room. “There’s no danger if you stay.”

“Britta.” Enat’s voice is lower, pensive. “Even if you learn what it takes to break the bind, you don’t have experience. This task is no easy thing. It’ll take a great deal of concentration and know-how. And without experience, well . . .” She doesn’t need to finish the sentence—?I already know. Without experience, I wouldn’t be able to do it. I look away, embarrassed for thinking I could learn.

Her wrinkled hand wraps around mine. “Now, listen, girl. I knew the dangers when you first asked me to go. Knew what I was getting myself into.”

I hadn’t given the risk to her a second thought when I asked her to go, a fact that fills me with remorse. Enat tugs me to sit near her on the bed with the cloak between us.

“I’m an old woman. That doesn’t mean I’m not capable; it just means I’ve lived my life and had my adventures. One thing I haven’t had in quite some time is a family. We’ve just met, but I’m not going to let you waltz in here and waltz back out. This is my choice. I’m going with you, my granddaughter.”

Oh, how the sound of that pleases me.

For the first time since we met, Enat’s short frame and weathered skin no longer seem rugged. The hunch of her shoulders and deep lines around her eyes and mouth make me see her years. Frailty beneath strength. When she squeezes my hand, I wish I could quiet my unease about the dangers ahead.

“It’s going to be a tough journey,” I say, hoping she’ll reconsider and hoping she won’t. “Cohen’s convinced we’ll need to travel day and night to reach Brentyn before the captain. Traveling in a pair makes it hard to stay inconspicuous, so traveling in a group of three will be near impossible.”

“Careful, Britta.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth. She presses a threaded needle into the fabric and begins a pattern of stitches. “I might start thinking you enjoy that boy’s company over mine.”

I snort, and the tension between us evaporates.

Clearly, there’ll be no changing her mind.

I pick up the other end of the cloak. Papa may not have taught me how to be the best seamstress, but it doesn’t mean I cannot fix a seam.

“Can you tell me about my mother?” I ask while mending.

Enat’s fingers pause over the fabric. “Talking about Rozen reminds me of times I’d rather forget.”

The slight tremble in her fingers jitters down through the thread. What happened back then that she’d want to forget?

The door slams, breaking my trance as Cohen enters the house, bustles around, gathering supplies, then leaves. All the while, I sit there struck by Enat’s words.

Her needle moves in and out of the fabric. “Rozen was close to your age when she left home—?her first time working at her Elementiary in Padrin.” As her hand moves steadily over the fabric, her story spins a memory to life before me. A chance meeting between a sweet Channeler and an eager young bounty hunter. A summer of courtship whenever Saul could stop in Padrin. A girl who returned home in the fall desperately in love.

“He wrote and asked for her hand in marriage.” Enat’s fingers stray from her handiwork, her usual purposeful touch now a flutter of movement as she swipes a hair from her forehead. “Rozen was elated. She asked him to come here to meet me and to marry under these trees. Only, the day came and he didn’t arrive. She waited for him for a month. When he didn’t come, Rozen was heartbroken.”