Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel)(32)

I sleep better than I have in days beside the warmth of Jacinda’s fire. There’s nothing like a soft pillow and a blanket after a long day of riding.



In the morning, Siron’s stomps wake me. His snort and shuffle sound from outside the cottage. It’s a sound he makes only when he’s alarmed.

I throw off the blanket. On instinct, I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my sword and lunge for the door. Outside, my gaze ricochets around the clearing.

An older man, his hair as gray as Captain Omar’s, stands a dozen paces away from Siron, holding the reins of his dusty brown horse.

A man I’ve met before. Duff Baron. Courier. Underground informant.

“You’re a hard fellow to find.” He approaches me.

“I try to keep it that way.”

“My asking around probably won’t help your cause much. You should know that there are Shaerdanian soldiers in the area. They’re looking for you.”

Bludger. I glance to the house where Finn and Lirra are still sleeping. Scratch that. Lirra’s standing at the door, wide eyes on the two of us.

“Is that what you came to tell me?” I cross my arms.

“Duff, is that you?”

Of course Lirra knows him. I fight not to roll my eyes.

His face breaks out into a fatherly grin. “Lirra Barrett.” He tips his chin up at her before remembering I’m here. “You two traveling together?”

“For a bit,” she says, not adding anything more.

“Does your father know? That the safest thing for you?”

“Probably not,” I say. “But she won’t leave me alone.”

She flares her nostrils. But she’s quick to explain why I’m her travel buddy, making up something about needing a guide near the border. The longer I know Lirra, the clearer it becomes that she’s got more silver on her tongue than exists in all the coffers of Malam. The girl could talk a horse right out from under a man by convincing him he’s riding a badger.

“Then you’d best take this missive addressed to the bounty hunter and be on your way.” Duff holds out a rolled-up piece of parchment. “Guards are searching the town. I’d hate to see you get caught up in his trouble.”

Lirra walks forward to take the scroll, but I grab it before she can get her little hands on my letter.

“Thank you, Duff. I’ll keep an eye out. Don’t worry about me.” She turns wide eyes on the older man like she’s perfectly innocent.

I huff out a breath and roll open the scroll.



Phelia attacked the king and B. Return.

—Omar





I stare at the words. Read them three more times.

Attacked? How? When? Where?

If there was ever a time I wanted to school Omar on communication, it’s now. The lack of information slams me with anxiety. I reach for my belt, running my hand over the hidden feather.

Phelia’s in Brentyn. She’s hurt Britta.

Dammit.

I punch the tree to release the fury crashing through me. Doesn’t help, but it does crack a couple of knuckles. I’m useless this far from Brentyn.

“Get Finn,” I bark at Lirra, causing her to jump. “We’re leaving now.”





Chapter

15


Britta


TEN DAYS AFTER THE ATTACK ON THE KING, a missive arrives from the royal steward. I almost don’t open it.

I’ve been hard-pressed to get Aodren’s admission out of my head. I don’t want to be one of the people whom he trusts. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t want any more connection. It may be selfish, but all I want is peace and quiet in my papa’s cottage, where I have control over my life. Where I’m free to do what I want. Is that a futile desire? Every day since I woke after saving the king over a month ago, it seems I’m further from achieving it.

The edges of the letter are curled as if it were shoved in a tube and sent by homing pigeon. Which would mean it was sent to the castle. Nobody else nearby keeps courier birds.

“It’s not a snake.” Gillian hovers over my shoulder.

I turn, hiding the note from her view. Is this what it’s like to grow up in a house of siblings? People always underfoot. Overhead. Nothing is private or personal. My fingers slip under the seal, cracking the wax.



Dove,

Meet me at the clearing at noon.

—C





My heart turns into a hummingbird trapped in the cage of my ribs.

“Cohen?” Gillian’s eagle eye misses nothing.

Thrilled that he’s hours away, I cannot speak. I move to the wall where my bow and quiver rest because I won’t be able to sit in this cottage and wait. Time is always better spent in the woods.

Boots laced and dagger bedded by my ankle, I stalk to the door.

Fists plop on Gillian’s hips. “What did he write? Where are you going?” She trails me. “Say something, Britta.”

“I’ll be back later. I’m headed to the clearing.”

She growls through pursed lips.

“Was that sound befitting a lady?” I slide my quiver over my shoulder with a smirk.

“Not two weeks ago, the king was attacked. Two men were killed. The woods aren’t safe. Must you go out?”