“It’s all right.” Jacinda pats the horse’s back. A plume of dust lifts into the air. “Now tell me, what’s going on here, Cohen? You’re a Malamian man traveling with two Channeler girls. One of whom most of the country is looking for. And the other whose father is infamous and probably not keen on finding out his daughter is with you. Have you a death wish?”
Lirra chuckles, but ducks her head when I look in her direction.
“Lirra’s choices are her own since she insisted on coming along. Now Rhea, that’s different. Didn’t realize who she was.” My thumb grazes my scar before shoving my hand into my hair. Siron walks to my side and nuzzles my hand. I rub his nose and ears, then spend the next twenty minutes explaining how Lirra joined my traveling party, and then how we saved Rhea. Jacinda’s eyes are two round moons when I tell her about Lord Conklin.
“You did the right thing.” Jacinda brushes the horse’s mane. “You shouldn’t be faulted for helping her. It’ll be too dangerous for you to drop her off in town, so you should leave Rhea with me, and I’ll send word that I have her.”
“You’d take care of her for me?”
“You know I’m in your debt. Besides, the girl is scared and needs a warm, safe place to sleep. I’ll keep her here till they come.” Not sure if it’s the moonlight’s gray kiss, or if Jacinda’s eyes are getting misty.
“You know you’ve already paid us back tenfold,” I tell her, but she shakes her head, not accepting that she’s done more for Britta and me than we could ever repay.
“Who do you think Lord Conklin is working with?” Jacinda’s hands pause, caught in the tangled mess of black horse hair. “There have been too many girls taken for one man and his group of muscle to be running around all of Shaerdan.” She glances back toward her home where the boarded windows keep the light in. “Two girls, twin sisters, from this town were taken three weeks ago. They vanished in the middle of the night.”
“That’s terrible.” Lirra puts the brush in the saddlebag.
“The Kelstion family woke to find both their girls missing, a window left open, and prints in the soil. Men from town followed them until they were lost in the river.”
“Feels like no girls are safe.” Lirra shivers and wraps her arms around her ribs.
“That explains the boarded windows.” I step away from Siron and give him a pat so he leaves to drink some more well water.
“Aye. It’s hard to know how to protect yourself when you don’t know who or what you’re facing. But I go to bed each night determined to fight for my family,” Jacinda says. The sadness lining her words hits me in a way I’m not expecting.
I think of when I found Britta in the king’s chambers, heartbeats from death. The piercing anxiety and the helplessness. Don’t ever want to be faced with that again.
I tuck the thought away, knowing right now I have to figure out what’s happening to the Channeler girls. Even if my duty to the king didn’t already demand it, I cannot forget what I saw today. The fear shaking through Rhea’s body. The worry in Jacinda’s eyes.
Lord Conklin’s not working alone.
I rub the back of my neck, wishing the tension in my shoulders would go away. Doubt that’ll happen till Finn is patched up and home safe, and I’m back beside Britta.
“You think there’s a connection between Phelia and the missing girls?” Lirra dusts off her skirt, which has seen better days. Tears and stains define the struggles of the last couple of days.
“Aye. It’s a possibility,” I say. I walk away from Finn’s horse.
Jacinda crosses the clearing to a mammoth limb that drags on the ground. The tree resembles a man pushing himself up after a fight. Jacinda sits on his knobby shoulder. “Not many women would blatantly disobey the Guild’s laws. If you’re found guilty, it’s a death sentence.”
Steep punishment. “I thought Channelers were revered in Shaerdan.”
“They are, but they still need laws to govern themselves.”
Makes sense. “I’ve used a charm before,” I admit, grimacing as I explain the charm needed to gain access to Enat’s home.
“Could be she petitioned the Guild for it. But does Enat using old and perhaps illegal magic surprise you?”
Nope. Sounds like something the spry old woman would do. Except . . . “Why would she caution Britta not to use her gift for dark magic if she was using charms?”
“It’s not the same sort of magic,” Jacinda explains.
“There’s a difference,” Lirra cuts in. “The main classification for dark magic is that it siphons energy from another. It’s all about the Channeler’s intent to do ill. Whereas a charm could be created by a Channeler to be used for a good purpose, but someone with nefarious purposes could get their hands on it and twist it to their own ends. See the difference?”
“Nefarious?” I smirk.
Lirra throws a stick at me, and I suddenly feel like I’m teasing my sister, Imogen. “It’s called reading. Try it, you stupid mule.”
“I know what the word means.”
“Remind me to give you an apple.”
Jacinda claps her hands. “You two are worse than my kids. Stop fighting. It’s time to get to bed.”
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.”