Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(35)

Gawain snorted. “If I were chased through the streets without a map and no knowledge of cities, I’d do no better.”

Gratitude for his understanding welled within her.

“Aye. Human cities are pure chaos.” Calum frowned. “From what Darcy’s said, even if Tynan finds the location, we cannot rescue the females until we—”

“You’d help? Help get the villagers free? Even though they’re in a city?” Hope rose like a fountain.

Calum considered her thoughtfully. “Having any of our people—especially females—held by humans doesn’t sit well with me. Yet I can make no promises, Darcy. Danger lurks on every path I can see, so at this point, we are merely collecting information.”

Her hope drained away. For a moment, she had childishly hoped for miracles. Unable to speak past the disappointment clogging her throat, she nodded her understanding.

Calum turned back to Owen. “Rescuing the females before finding the soldier’s compound won’t work. If the hostages are lost, the Scythe would undoubtedly eliminate the males as an uncontrollable risk.”

No, no, no. Her hands closed into fists as she fought the need to shift and run and find her littermates. Owen’s lean hand landed on her shoulder and kept her focused.

Although the cahir wasn’t touching her for comfort, but to prevent problems, she couldn’t help but feel thankful.

“I can assist, Cosantir,” Gawain said. “Maybe Owen and I could do some scouting for the males’ location.”

Owen nodded. “Agreed. Where should we start?”

Sheer surprise left her speechless.

The Cosantir shook his head. “I fear your search will take you out of Herne’s domain. There are no unknown shifters in my territory, and when I contacted the Washington and Oregon Cosantirs, they verified the same.”

“How do you know that so quickly?” Darcy asked.

Owen answered for Calum. “A Cosantir can sense every shifter in his territory. It’s one of their powers.”

Her teeth ground together. Wasn’t it appalling how much she didn’t know about her own people?

“Permission to leave the territory and search, Cosantir?” Owen asked.

Calum nodded. “If you and Gawain find time from setting up your household, I’d appreciate if you searched for the shifter-soldiers.”

Owen grinned. “We’ll need a break from that moving shit anyway.”

“Do you have any suggestions on where to start hunting, Darcy?” Gawain asked.

She’d already spent time trying to determine her brothers’ location. “Fell and Patrin mentioned doing training at Twin Sisters Range. Since they called their place a forest camp and forest compound, it’s in the woods. But they never spoke of having to hike to get out, so I think the barracks are probably close to Highway 20. I’m afraid it’s all guesses, though.”

Calum’s fingers tapped the top of the bar as he thought. “My territory ends east of Mt. Baker and not nearly to the Twin Sisters, so that will narrow the search.”

A sound from the other side of the bar drew Calum’s attention, and he turned. “Excuse me, please.” After drawing two drafts of very dark beer, he carried them to a table in the shadows.

Darcy stared. OtherFolk—here? The two at the table were shorter than she was with long beards and gnarly faces like old trees. “Dwarves come to this bar?”

“There’s a dwarven hall nearby, and some of them get a kick out of sampling what’s on tap,” Owen said.

Wow. She frowned. “Don’t the humans ask questions about the strange-looking visitors?”

“Not unless they have the Sight.” Gawain shook his head. “Dwarves have a don’t-look-at-me magic in the same way sprites and gnomes do.”

The Cosantir tilted his head, the dwarves bowed slightly, and the Cosantir disengaged. Returning to the bar, he picked up his cup of coffee. When he looked at her—and she was probably gawking—his eyebrow went up.

“I don’t think our catling has run into dwarves before.” Gawain covered her hand with his.

She took a step back and then stopped herself.

Frowning, he picked her up hand. “Does it bother you to be touched?” Both her mentors often took her hand, squeezed her shoulder, or tugged on her hair.

Owen turned to look at her.

“It’s a habit. In the prìosan, contact between captives wasn’t allowed—although those of us who were older would sneak hugs to the children when we could.” She’d earned a few canings that way.

Gawain’s clear blue eyes held concern. And wasn’t that wonderful?

She tried to lighten her tone. “If I’m not expecting to be touched, my first reaction is to move back and check for guards watching. But I like being touched.” Like was such an inadequate word. Sometimes it seemed as if her entire body had been waiting forever to be stroked or held. As if her skin drank in the feeling of someone else touching her.

With the back of his knuckles, Gawain stroked her cheek. “I like touching you, so I’m glad you enjoy it.”

Owen made a low growl. “I look forward to meeting those Scythe bastards.” To her surprise, he pulled her back against his chest long enough to rub his cheek over hers.

A panther mark of affection…from the grumbly cat.