Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel)(96)

Aodren’s knuckles brush against mine. “This is my choice.”

His choice?

He walks away, headed straight for Lord Jamis. “Let the boy go,” Aodren yells. “I will take his place.”

Truth. The suddenness of his choice steals my chance to react. I don’t have time to comprehend what he’s giving up by walking straight into their hands. Part of me begs not to let him go. I don’t want to lose Aodren this way. And neither can Malam afford to lose him. Yet I cannot watch Finn die.

Aodren glances back at me, unspoken words and emotions painting his eyes a brilliant green. “Be brave.”

Lord Jamis shoves Finn toward the field. Finn starts a brisk, jerky walk toward the barn.

My eyes burn with unshed tears. Never before have I felt less courageous than I do now.

My throat locks over the words I want to say. I realize why Cohen always chose my safety first. It’s too painful to watch fate play its cold games with the life of someone you care for. I did not realize how much I care for this man until now. Good, kind, intelligent, compassionate—Aodren’s one of the truest friends I have ever had.

“Britta. Look.”

Lirra points across the field, where a handful of crows flap out of the trees. Snow showers the ground near the birds’ movement. I cannot see anyone. But something about Finn’s body language catches the corner of my eye. His stride is all wrong. The closer he gets to Aodren, the choppier his movements become.

A peek of silver glints between Finn’s fingers. What’s he carrying? I glance across the field, trying to make sense of the scene.

Still as the snow around her, Phelia watches Finn.

“Stop!” I break into a sprint for Aodren.

Aodren twists around just as Finn thrusts a blade into his shoulder. A pained grunt comes out, and Aodren shoves the younger boy back. The two struggle, the king’s one good arm fending off Finn’s attack. Cohen shouts. Finn lunges for Aodren’s throat.

Right before I reach them, Finn collapses, a puppet whose strings have been cut.

The suddenness of his fall has me skidding to a stop, focus whipping to Phelia. She’s not alone. Four girls, bound wrist to wrist, form a semicircle behind Phelia. Off to the side of the girls, two more guards hold swords ready.

“Orli,” Lirra cries out. A girl with ebony braids starts to thrash against the restraints.

Aodren holds his shoulder, applying pressure to the wound. “I don’t know what happened. Finn was attacking me, and then he just fell . . . Is he alive?”

Urgency bleats hurry, hurry, hurry through my veins. I check Finn’s pulse—sluggish.

Cohen appears at my side. “Let me get Finn out of here.”

I nod, wishing there was more I could say right now. At the very least, wishing he knew how sorry I was.

Seeva and her remaining Guild women meet Cohen at the edge of the field and gather around Finn.

“Britta, you could end this now.” Phelia’s voice rings like claws scraping down a window. She has a way of ripping my attention from everything else happening. Phelia grasps the two girls at the ends, completing a circle. They buck and squirm, a futile effort against the leather straps securing them to one another and the guards posted at their sides.

“I will never join you!” I shout at her.

In challenge, Phelia raises the arms of the two girls connected to her. “Is that so?”

I’m frozen in place, unable to turn away from Phelia, anticipating what her next move will be. How do you muddy water, Britta? By adding more and more dirt.

Phelia’s head twitches to the side. She stares me down as she lowers the girls’ arms. Her chest rises and falls in great gaping breaths. Her eyes roll back, whites gleaming against the black swirls that crawl around her neck.

“No!” Lirra cries out. She points at her friend who’s no longer fighting the restraints. “Phelia’s using a rune to draw out their powers.”

At the same time Cohen yells, “Britta!”

I spin around to find that Cohen has lowered Finn to the ground and is now kneeling beside Seeva. The Channeler lays on the snow, hand flattened over her chest. Her fingers dig into her shirt.

“The heat,” Seeva cries. Sweat coats her face. Her lips twitch. The snow nearest her face melts.

“What’s happening?” Terror creeping through my question, I look from Seeva to Phelia.

A shift in Cohen’s expression shows his understanding. “Phelia’s burning Seeva from the inside out.”

I blink, unsure how he came to the conclusion and at the same time horrified.

Torima crouches beside Seeva and places her hands on the Channeler. “I’ll do what I can to cool her with liquids from the inside out,” she says, “but can I get some wind, ladies?” She looks from Lirra to Katallia.

Both women agree. Lirra lifts her hands, and wind swirls around Seeva. The woman’s moans quiet.

“Keep it up,” Katallia tells her niece. “I’ll send a message to Phelia.” She then extends her hands toward the opposite end of the field. A wintry gust bursts past me, straight for Phelia.

Phelia stumbles to the side, her cloak flapping in the Channeler’s wind. But she doesn’t release the girl’s hands. The distraction allows Leif and Omar to sneak away from our group, in an effort to close in on Jamis and Phelia.