Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)(87)

The two guards hunker into fighting-ready positions, one glaring over a bloody nose and the other shifting closer with his blade pointed at me. Beyond them, the high lord sits behind his desk watching the scene unfold.

Where’s Captain Omar?

A quick glance over my shoulder and I freeze.

The point of Omar’s blade is pressed into Cohen’s neck. Cohen. Crimson drops blossom at the point of contact. Enat’s final moment pops into my vision and just as quickly vanishes. My skin turns to brittle leaves at the sight of Cohen, captured by the man who killed my father.

“No.” I find my voice. “Cohen, what happened?”

“Hand over your weapon or he dies now.” Captain Omar’s command allows no option for Cohen to speak. Instead, Cohen stares at me hard with an equal look of apology and fear.

I spin to face the high lord, my eyes pleading for his mercy.

“Now!” Omar yells.

I jump and rip my gaze away from Lord Jamis. My fingers shake with fury as I deliver Papa’s blade to the bloody-nosed guard, who sets it on the desk.

The guard tugs my wrists behind my back, and a wave of unexpected dizziness hits. Blood stains my tunic and slithers down my arm from the gash near my shoulder. I shake my head to clear the pain.

Defeat kicks through me.

“This isn’t how I imagined us meeting again, Miss Flannery.” The high lord finally speaks. Like the first time we met, his tone is formal and composed in such an elegant way it makes me take stock of my filth. He crosses the room, coming to stand by his desk in nearly the same pose he held when we first met. The irony that I’m in the man’s study with Cohen by my side isn’t lost on me.

“Did we not have a deal?” He steeples his fingers.

“We—?we did,” I say.

“You were promised sovereignty and the ownership of your father’s cottage if you led my men to capture Cohen Mackay. Was this not our agreement?”

“Yes.” I grit my teeth together. I want to tell him more, explain who the real killer is, but the guard has my arm twisted in restraint and a blade pressed into my side. If I say anything, he may slide the metal between my ribs before I can finish my sentence.

“And yet you led my men to the town where Mackay was hiding, and then you teamed up with the very man I contracted you to capture. You consorted with the enemy and assisted in his escape.” He pulls the matching dagger out of the desk and sets it beside mine in a controlled manner that reminds me of the peace before a winter storm. “When you stood in here and agreed to the deal, was it your intention to deceive me, Britta?”

I shake my head. “No, sir, I—”

“I hope not. You see, I don’t like being made a fool.” His left eye twitches.

This conversation is spinning out of control. If it continues, my fate along with Cohen’s, and possibly now Leif’s, will be the noose by this time tomorrow. I cannot let that happen. “I—?I can explain,” I plead.

Lord Jamis cocks his head to one side, jerking like a falcon. “Explain? What could you possibly say to excuse such grievous acts? On top of poaching, you’ve now committed treason and aided an accused murderer. Please do explain. I’m sure it’ll be amusing.”

My throat closes up. He won’t be sympathetic to my plea. He won’t believe me if I tell him the captain’s the murderer. My problem lies in the proof, of which I have none.

“Go on, girl.” The guard prods my shoulder with his blade. I arch my back to scrape more space from him.

“I . . . I, uh, left Captain Omar and went with Cohen because I found out he’s innocent,” I say, wincing at the wobble in my voice. “I went to find the real murderer.”

Lord Jamis stares at me blandly. Behind me the guard mutters his disbelief, though thankfully doesn’t press his point with the blade.

The high lord seemed kind enough to suffer my presence when we first met. I pray he’ll listen to me now. Revealing my Spiriter abilities may be suicide, but there’s no other way to prove Cohen’s innocence and the captain’s guilt.

My time is up and there are no other options. For Cohen, I must do this.

“You sent me to find my father’s killer, and I went because I believed you when you said Cohen was a murderer. I believed you because I can tell when someone is speaking the truth.”

“That’s a lie.” The outburst comes from Captain Omar. His hand is gripped on the pommel of his sword. I glance from him to Lord Jamis, whose eyes have widened a fraction. A good sign.

“It isn’t a lie,” I forge on. “When someone tells the truth, I can feel it.”

“Interesting.” Lord Jamis taps his fingers together before pulling them behind his back. I’m surprised no one in the room has called me a Channeler. “How can you stand here and argue that you have the ability to tell the truth when you say you believed me, and now you’re saying I am wrong?”

“When you said Cohen killed my father, you must’ve believed what you were saying. And because you thought you were telling the truth, I felt it. I can prove it. Tell me something that I wouldn’t know the truth about. And I’ll tell you if you’re honest or not.”

“And how do I know you’re not merely good at guessing?”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a frown. “But you can keep testing me. I assure you I will get it right every time.”