Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel)(75)

I tip my face down. Now we’re eye to eye. “I don’t know much about your ability. I do know, however, you took weeks to recover from healing me. You’ve been in the dungeon for almost two days, and you just did something to Phelia, right? That had to be taxing.”

Her gaze drops to the scar on my neck. I ignore the rush it sends through me because it’s ridiculous to feel this way given the danger we’re in.

“If you heal Gillian, will you be strong enough to leave?”

She groans, obviously accepting what must be done. “No.”

We’ll need allies. Men. “We have to go.”

She nods, an unconvincing tip of her chin.

“Britt.” Finn stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He eyes us, and I step away from her, reminding myself that Britta and this boy’s brother are . . . something. What, exactly? Does she love Cohen Mackay?

“I’ll stay with her,” Finn continues. “I’ll only slow you down. Gillian’s going to need someone here. Worst case, I’ll have to hide her should Jamis’s men come.”

Fear sets his voice wobbling, but he’s putting forth a strong front, and that should be commended. “Brave choice, Finn.”

He blinks, apparently stunned by the compliment.

Britta walks over to Finn and clutches his hand. “Now who is the brave one?” She glances over her shoulder at Gillian. “Keep her safe.”

Finn grows a smidge taller. “I will.”

There’s no more time for goodbyes so I pat Finn on the shoulder. I don’t have any coins for Hagan, but I promise him repayment when we retake the castle—I will not let myself think failure is a possibility.

Hagan offers us bedrolls, a tent tarp, and some food for our travels. He even provides a better-fitting change of clothes to me, since mine are filthy. After hurriedly scrubbing myself with soap and water, I change into Hagan’s trousers and winter tunic. When he offers his coat, however, I turn it down. It’s his only one and should he flee, he’ll need it. Though it’s sure to be near freezing in the mountains, the winter tunic and trousers are thicker than what I was wearing. They’ll have to do.

Britta accepts his bow and quiver of arrows. I can tell by the way her hands stroke the curved wood that her confidence in our ability to find Omar has grown.

After a quick meal, Britta loads up Gale while I keep watch. Snowfire will stay behind should Finn need a horse.

The sun is rising when Britta and I reach the woods, but it brings no warmth, only gray light that turns the frost on the horizon into colorless haze.





Chapter

35


Cohen


THE BEDROOM DOOR FLIES OPEN. THE ACTION startles a jerk out of me, followed by a wince and a groan. Seeds, my ribs.

I scowl at the intruder, a woman with snakes of red hair, as she unapologetically enters.

“Be nice, it’s my aunt,” Lirra warns. She pushes off the chair where she’s been sitting beside the window, staring out at the snow-dusted treetops, and crosses the room in two strides. Her arms go around the fearsome intruder. “Cohen, meet my aunt Katallia.”

“Your mother’s sister?” I’d heard all of Millner Barrett’s family was killed after he snuck into Shaerdan.

“I’m Millner’s only living sister,” Katallia corrects, nothing sweet in her matter-of-fact tone.

“Thank you for letting us into your home.” Hate that I’m lying here instead of sitting up and greeting her properly. I might be gruff sometimes, but I have learned a fair share of manners. I roll to my good side and struggle for breath. Try to push myself up to sitting. It takes a long time, but I get there.

With a measured gaze, Katallia approaches the bed. “My home is in Shaerdan. This is a safe passage house for Channelers.” Her words are as pointed and crisp as her walk.

She waits for my reaction, of which I give none. Something in me recognizes the predatory hint behind those gray eyes. After all, I’ve been on the king’s payroll for a year and a half.

“My niece said you needed a carrier pigeon.”

Earlier, Lirra told me that this home, where I’m laid up, is south of Lord Freil’s fiefdom in the small logging village of Tahr. Though we’re at least one hundred leagues from Brentyn, a homing bird could fly a letter to the castle in a day.

“I need to get an urgent message to the king.”

“And what will you tell them of my niece?” Like Lirra, this woman wastes no time in getting to the grit.

I wouldn’t put Lirra in danger if that’s what she’s suggesting. I get that Lirra’s walking a hazardous path being here in Malam. Should anyone find out that her father is the Archtraitor, Lirra would be killed. Same result if she was discovered to be a Channeler.

“Nothing. I wouldn’t jeopardize a friend for my own gain,” I tell Katallia, but my focus is on Lirra. I want her to see the intention behind my words. I want her to know she can trust me.

Katallia doesn’t say more. She stands beside the bed, watching me. I figure she’s going to allow me to stay here because she clips out, “Very well,” and then pivots and leaves.

Her absence makes the air in the room easier to breathe. Not going to deny that.

“She can be frightening.” Lirra coughs out a small laugh.