Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(75)
“Yes.”
She smiles and tightly creases the fold of her quilt. “Then on our way to Malam, I’ll teach you.”
Once we’re under way, each of us on a different horse, Cohen says, “We’ll hold out on resting until it’s absolutely necessary. We want to cross this land as quickly as we can.”
We keep to the forest and grasslands that fall north of the main road, careful to stay out of sight. Cohen takes the lead, while Enat and I trade off the rear position as we make the most use of riverbeds. There’s no telling where the captain and his men are. They may have headed back to Malam, but Cohen believes they may also be lying in wait for us.
I watch Cohen as he splashes through the stream ahead. Thoughts of him run endless circles in my head until the guilt of thinking so much about Cohen quells them. Whatever is happening between us is not as important as the task ahead. I have to keep reminding myself of this.
Thankfully halfway into the second day, Enat begins her lessons. Her work keeps me busy and takes my mind off Cohen and the danger we’re heading toward.
“A Spiriter can sense another’s energy.” Enat’s crooked finger points at my horse. “Take his spirit, for example—?you can feel it hum beneath you.”
I put my hand on Aspen, unsure what to expect, and I’m a little disappointed when nothing happens.
“Close your eyes and try to feel what’s stirring beneath his body’s movement.”
When, once again, all I detect is Aspen’s body, I grow irritated. “Maybe I’m too old to learn,” I suggest, well aware that my frustration is obvious.
“Could be.” She waves her hand at me. “Seventeen is ancient.”
“Almost eighteen,” I correct.
“Almost. Still, it takes practice and patience. Two things you’ve not yet tried.”
Later that evening, when we stop so the horses can rest, Cohen tugs my tunic before I can follow Enat to the stream.
“What are you doing?” I ask, surprised by his gesture.
“That’s the question I should be asking you.” Though his expression gives nothing away, his tone is short, conveying his irritation. “You’re trying to learn how to be a Channeler like her.”
I frown. Why is he upset? “Yes. I asked Enat to explain how my ability works.”
“Bloody stars,” he mutters.
“Cohen, what does it matter?”
He stares at me, the blanket dropping away from his gaze to show pain and fear flickering like gold flecks in his hazel eyes. “It’s dangerous, Britta. I left you because your father didn’t want anyone to know you had this power. If you learn this now, you’ll draw attention to yourself. I cannot stand aside while you make a target of yourself.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I protest. “That’s ridiculous.”
He moves closer until his wide shoulders block the light. “I know you, Britta. You’ll test its limits. And what will happen when someone in Brentyn catches you?”
I take two steps away from him, maddened by his sudden involvement. “You left me alone for fifteen months, making the decision to protect me. You never asked me what I wanted. Learning my gift is what I want now, and you cannot expect me to walk away.”
A vein pulses in his neck. “I’m telling you this is a mistake.”
My brows shoot sky-high at his arrogance. I turn on my heel and stride toward the stream where Enat has gone to wash up. There’s space for me to sit beside her, where she’s kneeling on the soft grasses that curve over the bubbling brook. I set to splashing water over my dirty face.
Enat holds out a rag for me. I take it, mindful of the ease between us, a level of comfort experienced only around Papa and Cohen. If anything, my connection to her only increases my frustration with Cohen. Would he truly see me abandon this gift passed to me by my only living blood relative? The idea of doing so distresses me more than the threat to Channelers in Malam.
Enat runs her hands over a patch of wildflowers, a ribbon of purple that winds through the grass along the stream’s edge. “Ready to try again? With the experience you’ve already had, you’ll grasp your ability in no time.”
I check back to see if Cohen is standing in the shadows. Though I know he isn’t, because I can no longer sense his eyes on me or my hyperawareness of him that usually registers when he’s near. His absence doesn’t feel right between us; it grows like guilt that has a way of settling in my bones. During our younger years, Cohen always stood up for me when other children teased me. He was my protector. In his own way, he’s still trying to protect me. I wish he could understand that I’ve finally found somewhere I fit in. Something I can belong to.
“Enat, why can I not feel if you’re honest or lying?” Turning back to my grandmother, I need a distraction.
“Can you sense when others are honest?”
My answer in the positive has her eyes glinting with appraisal.
“When others speak, their energy is livelier, so it’s easier to detect,” she explains. “A truthful word puts the body at peace, while a lie grates against a person’s mind and energy’s need for harmony. That’s why you can sense the truth or lies in others. But with me, you cannot because Spiriters innately have stronger control over their own energy, and so it’s not free flowing for others to detect.”