Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(79)

I see the flash of gold and white right before heat skims my face, but I don’t let myself give it another thought as I throw myself onto Enat, wrap my arms around her, and tug so we both start rolling down the path. One, two, three times, I yank her beneath me and over me, moving us as far from fiery death as possible.

When the edge of heat wanes, I stop and lie panting beside Enat.

She groans.

I reach around the back of her head, in search of injury, and find sticky wetness matting her hair. I press to stop the bleeding.

The familiar buzzing sensation hums beneath my palm. I concentrate on the vibration to find where she’s weak. I can feel the lack of energy near her head wound.

She does not so much as move as I bleed my spirit into hers, the motion natural now, filling her need and healing her wound.



When I wake I’m alone, in a cave, kept warm by a small fire set in a ring of river stones.

I cast a sluggish glance around and groan when my aching neck and back protest the movement. I roll myself to sitting right as Cohen steps from the shadows and drops down beside me.

Without warning, his arms are around me, clutching me to him as his face falls to my neck. Nose pressed to the hollow beneath my ear, Cohen drags in a deep shuddery breath.

“Cohen?” A croak. My throat grates like I’ve eaten hay.

He pulls back, his hair a mess. Shadows linger on his face, bruising the skin under his eyes, despite the light of the fire.

“We found a cave,” he says. His gaze drifts to the craggy curve of the walls, the packed-dirt ground, the far reaches of the cave where blackness resists the firelight, before returning to me. The last time we were in a cave together, only one of us was able to walk out. Morosely, I wonder if he’s thinking about that now.

I swallow, trying to pull saliva over my throat. “Has the storm let up?”

“Hours ago.”

I wince. He doesn’t have to say more. We’re here, wasting critical time, because of me. Because my ailments are holding him back from helping Finn.

“Is Enat all right?” I ask.

“She’s doing well, considering.”

“The tree was falling . . . and she was unconscious. I had to help her. I didn’t think it would take so much out of me, I just needed her to be safe.” The cracked words tumble out. I don’t realize how much his approval matters to me until he remains silent.

“Cohen? Say something.”

His arm crushes my shoulders against him. “I want to yell at you not to do something like that again because I’m afraid I’ll lose you. But then, at the same time, I’m proud of you.”

My lashes flutter closed. His praise, something I’ve rarely heard before, is a balm.

“Every time you put yourself in danger, I feel like I’m suffocating. I cannot stand to see you harmed.” He stares down at me, his gaze intense. “You misunderstood me when I said I shouldn’t have kissed you. I thought I pushed you too far, too fast. So I let you go. I didn’t think you were ready for us. Whereas I knew one kiss wasn’t enough.”

I want him to clarify the meaning behind his words, but in the next moment Cohen leans in, and I cannot move or blink or breathe. He wets his lips and then lowers his face closer, closer to mine.

“Every time I kiss you,” he says, his breath tickling my mouth, “I want you to know that this is what I want. Make no mistake, Britt, you are all I think about. You have been since the day we first met, since we first started training together, since I saw you stand strong in the face of so much opposition around you. You are all I need. You are all I will ever want.”

I gasp, and his mouth steals the sound as his lips cover mine.



Enat opens the pouch of herbs and seeds that dangles from her belt and puts a pinch into a cup of stream water. “It’s not Beannach water, but this chiandra tea will help you regain your strength.”

“Thank you.” My gaze roves over her, scrutinizing her movement as she hands me the drink for signs of weakness or pain.

“Don’t thank me, girl.” Enat sits back and frowns. “I should scold you for wasting your energy on me. You could’ve hurt yourself. Or worse, you could’ve given too much of your energy away.” I start to argue, but she silences me with her upheld hand. “Don’t waste yourself on an argument. You’ve been sleeping for nearly two days and could probably use more.”

“I barely feel tired.” Time is not a resource we can spare. “I’m fine,” I insist, stretching out my legs and sitting taller.

She eyes my movement and shakes her head. “You’re determined is what you are. You’re lucky, girl, that we heal quicker than others.” Enat notices my head cocked to the side and explains, “I know you’ve much to learn, and yet I keep forgetting how much. We weaken and age like everyone else, but our gift helps us naturally absorb energy that helps restore us to a healthier state.”

“I thought taking another’s energy is wrong or, at the very least, dangerous. Like black magic.”

“Aye. It’s both when a Spiriter forcefully takes energy”—?Enat’s fingers curl into her hand—“or controls it, like in the case of your king. But there’s energy all around us that is, in a sense, given to you. It’s in sunshine and wind and water and the food we consume.”