“Was it Omar’s missive that let you know she wasn’t in Shaerdan?”
“I figured it out just before I got word. Came across a girl who was working for Phelia. She’d been employed to lay a false trail.” He goes on to explain the charm Phelia used. Then he shocks me with news about Channeler girls being taken, and how he saved one from Lord Conklin.
I swallow over a dry throat. “One more thing.” Pushing out the words feels dangerous, like I’m yanking on the thread that holds me together. “Phelia’s real name is Rozen. She’s my mother.”
He stops.
Blinks.
Blinks again. “What?” His bafflement would be comical if it didn’t make me ill.
“She did something . . . I could sense her energy and feel the truth.”
“You’re certain?”
I nod.
Cohen scrubs his face with his hands, running his fingers along his scar. “Unbelievable. Phelia is Rozen? Your mother is Lord Jamis’s mistress?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. Now I might lose the contents of my stomach.
“Who else knows?”
“Only you and the king, who heard most of the conversation. I told Captain Omar everything except the bit about Phelia being my mother.”
“You should tell him, Britt.”
My fingers are icy and tingling by the time we reach the edge of the Evers where the hills flatten into snow-dusted fields broken up by dirt roads. In the middle of the valley, Brentyn is a spider lording over her web.
I stare off to the east, where Castle Neart is visible in the tree-topped mountainside. “Knowing Phelia’s my mother won’t give the captain any more reason to find her.” If anything, admitting she’s my mother will draw more of the captain’s judgment.
“Yes, but it might help him figure out her end goal.”
Perhaps. But I already know one thing she wants. “She asked me to go with her,” I admit, “and said she’d teach me about Channeling.”
Cohen stills.
I can see the war behind his eyes, the way he wants to protect me, yet doesn’t want to overstep his bounds.
“Not that I’d consider her request,” I say before he responds. “But I need time. Let me make sense of this. I thought my mother died.”
“Far as I’m concerned, she is dead. That woman might’ve given birth to you, but she’s no mother.”
The brisk air raises bumps on my arms. Somewhere nearby, a crow caws.
“I agree. I just don’t want the captain to know. Not yet.”
Neither of us says anything more. The road home takes us past a few cottages that huddle like weary travelers beside the wall of Ever Woods.
I think of how Phelia’s a part of me, how we share the same blood, and how I must be capable of the same darkness. And it’s hard not to wonder if Cohen, in his silence, is thinking the same.
Chapter
16
Cohen
I FOLLOW BRITTA INSIDE HER COTTAGE. Heat from the hearth’s fire fills the room. Near the cozy blaze, Gillian sits in Saul’s chair, poking a needle at a frilly scrap of fabric like I might go at quartering a deer.
She stops and waves it in the air. “Look what I’m making. Your walls need a bit of something.” The handmaid glances around, but unlike when she first came to Britta’s cottage, she doesn’t turn up her nose. She just smiles expectantly at Britta.
“Uh, thank you.” Britta studies the thing, bemused.
“Hello, Gillian.” I smile at the nurse, and she gives me a prim nod.
My stomach grumbles. After traveling long hours, I want to sink my teeth into something filling, wash up, and sleep for days.
My eyes catch on Britta’s cloak as she hangs it beside the door. It’s new. For the first time I remember that her old one was stained by Enat’s blood. Makes me ache for Britta and the losses she’s suffered. “I’m glad you got a new coat, Dove.”
Britta blushes my favorite shade of rose. “Oh, I . . . yeah.”
“The king gave it to her,” Gillian says.
“The king?” I’m not sure why Gillian’s comment doesn’t sit right.
Britt takes one look at my face and clarifies that the king noticed her cloak was ruined, so he replaced it.
“Nice of him,” I mutter.
“You should see what he gave her for her birthday.” Gillian sets her stitching down and moves to the bedroom door. Her birthday?
“Stop, Gillian,” Britta snaps.
And realization hits me hard. Britta turned eighteen a little over a week ago. I was so focused on getting home that I overlooked the day. “Gods, I’m the king of bludgers. I forgot, Dove. I—I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been hunting.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal.
But it is. “Bloody seeds, Britt. What am I good for if I cannot remember your birthday?”
“You’re not a bludger. At least, not at the moment.” She nudges my shoulder, attempting to soften my own disappointment. Only makes it worse. “Besides, you’re good for catching dinner. I think I’ll keep you around.”
“I had time to work on my stitches since you shot out of here like there was a golden stag in the forest.” Gillian holds her handiwork to the light once more. “I’m nearly finished.”
Britta drops her head back and laughs. I’m mesmerized by the sound. I get distracted by the smooth column of her neck. I want my mouth on her, just there. “A golden stag would weigh more than Snowfire. How would I get it home?”
The nurse stabs a needle into the material. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“What kind of entrails does a golden—?”
“Clearly, you’re missing the point.”
The sight of Britta’s grin breaks my remaining disappointment at having missed her birthday. I like to see that she’s friends with her nurse. Six weeks ago, Britta and the maid got on like oil and water.
While they talk, I slip out of the cottage to fetch a bucket of water. I return and pour the water into a cast-iron pot. Once it’s in the embers, I stoke the fire and wait for the water to boil.
I overlooked Gillian’s presence here in my haste to meet Britta in the woods. Seems my plans for a private reunion are foiled. Wish I’d taken more time with her in the practice clearing. Since I became an official bounty hunter for King Aodren nearly a year and a half ago, our only moments alone were as fugitives.
I’ve loved Britta since she was fourteen years old. Loved that she could hold her head up, shoulders back, and face each day despite how townspeople in Brentyn taunted her. There’s no other woman who possesses her strength and resilience.
I’ve had time to know, without a doubt, she’s the woman I want by my side. And if she’ll have me, she’s the woman I want to spend my life with. Now that we’re not running from guards or stopping a war, we can focus on the future.
The entire way back from Shaerdan, I planned out what I wanted to say to Britta. Except, no matter what I hoped for tonight, it’s not happening. That’s not a conversation to be had while Gillian’s around.