“Thank you, Dove,” he says, his tenor soft and sweet. His fingers hook mine, and he tugs me to him. “Come to the castle with me.”
My choice is made. The six weeks of separation was torture. Yesterday’s reunion had too many rough edges to be satisfying.
I hurry into the room to hide my trousers under a skirt and tuck my tunic into my waistband. Gillian’s comb smooths my hair, and I braid it into a plaited length. After cleaning my hands and face in the washbasin, I tuck my dagger into my boot and belt one of Cohen’s old rapiers at my waist. I wave goodbye to Gillian.
Cohen stands beside Siron, hand on the horse’s withers. “Ride together?”
I consider it for a moment, but shake my head. To get to the castle, we’ll have to ride through Brentyn. Cohen cannot help but draw attention from adoring townspeople because he’s the king’s bounty hunter. Especially the female population. It’s been years since we rode together in Brentyn. I’m ashamed to admit, I’m still self-conscious about the fact that Cohen could be with anyone.
I look at the castle’s sword-like spires that protrude from the tops of the evergreens. Maroon flags stain the tips of each gray peak. Castle Neart is supposed to be the heart of the Malam Mountains. Today, though, it seems to have taken on a darker aura, like each spire is a giant sword impaling a great green beast.
We garner a dozen glances and half a town’s worth of hushed gossip as we ride through the royal city.
I’m a landowner, unlike most of the townspeople clogging the market. I’ve a right to be here as much as they. I repeat this to myself as we pass the church and the pillory, where, yet again, a woman is manacled to a cross of cedar and shame. I fight the temptation to sink low in the saddle and let my shoulders slump forward. Holding my head high, I own the road all the way to Castle Neart.
The outer yard of the castle is bustling with servants. At the sight of Cohen, a stablehand scurries across the yard to retrieve our horses. All throughout Malam, Cohen is regarded as a hero. Once his name was cleared, the townspeople rallied around him. Once more their beloved bounty hunter.
I’m relieved. Having never felt the country’s judgment before, it must’ve been hard for Cohen.
Once our horses are stabled, I follow Cohen through the inner keep and down the stone stairwell to the guards’ quarters. We’ve barely stepped onto the training yard when a vision of Cohen at fourteen comes barreling toward us.
I stumble back, happily surprised at the welcoming reception. “Well, hello.”
“Finn,” Cohen barks. The rest of his words are lost to the arms flying around me, snaking me in a headlock. Or a hug. I cannot tell.
“Get off her.” Cohen yanks me free.
I take in the boy with big fawn eyes and a sloppy grin.
“I’m Finn.” He lifts up on his toes and then settles into his heels. “You’re Britta, Cohen’s girl.”
My brows shoot to my hairline and I laugh. Cohen sputters out a cough. The scene draws Captain Omar’s attention away from the guard he’s sparring with. The captain sheathes his sword and stalks across the yard to greet Cohen.
“You’re thinner than I thought you’d be,” Finn says, snagging my focus from the men.
Cohen stops talking to the captain to swat the back of his brother’s head. “Not how you start a conversation with a lady.”
Color like a ripened peach overtakes Finns cheeks. He ducks away from his brother, stepping closer to me and dropping his voice. “I’m not saying it’s bad. I just thought, by how Cohen described you, ya might look more like those guys.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the sparring guards, strapping and muscle-bound. Sweat dampens their tunics. Metal clashes. Their faces contort as they grunt and parry blows. “But you’re decently pretty.”
I laugh, liking the straightforward ring of his compliment.
I shift my weight. “How exactly does he describe me?”
“Tough and full of grit. Like Leif, but in a skirt. Well, maybe not a skirt. But a Leif-like girl, though a little more sure-footed.”
Well, then. I grin. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“But he also worries about you because he’s gone for you.”
Now I’m the one blushing.
Finn shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “Guess I should’ve waited to meet you before making a judgment.”
Cohen, who’s been watching our exchange, wraps his arm around Finn’s neck and tugs the younger boy closer. “Did you and Lirra stay out of trouble?”
Finn points toward the row of doors that line the side of the castle, where a handful of guards surround the dark-haired girl I recognize from Enat’s home.
Captain Omar ignores me as he starts up a conversation with Cohen about the attack in the woods. I listen in as the man explains they’ve had no luck finding Phelia or the people she’s working with.
Captain Omar taps his fingers on the hilt of his sword. “There’s been another development.” His eyes shift to me and Finn.
“Go on.” Cohen crosses his arms.
The captain’s mouth twists before he whispers, “A teenage girl was found in the woods.” This must be the gossip Cohen heard from the castle servants. Omar goes on to explain that Leif rushed an injured girl to the castle. The healer tried to save her, but she died before they could find out what the marks on her arm meant or whom she was running from.
Cohen’s shock mirrors my own. I hope for Lirra’s sake it wasn’t her friend.
Cohen runs his finger along his scar. “Her family hasn’t been located?”
“No. We think she might be from Shaerdan.”
“And you don’t know what led to her death?”
Another shake of Omar’s head.
A curse sounds under Cohen’s breath. “Near the border, after I met up with Lirra, I came across Lord Conklin. He had a few men with him and some girls who weren’t there of their own will.”
The only time I’ve seen shock register on Omar’s face like now was when he discovered Lord Jamis had killed my father.
Omar lets out a heavy breath. “What happened to him?”
I wonder why Cohen didn’t mention this to the captain yesterday. But my body flushes a little when I think of yesterday’s reunion. Cohen relays the story of how they killed a couple of Conklin’s men, but saved a young girl before the lord got away with the rest of the girls.
“Do you know whom he was working with?”
“No. Whoever it is clearly wants Malam and Shaerdan to go to war.”
Omar takes a moment, hand gripping the hilt of his sword. “I’ll report the information to the king. For now, stay vigilant, return here tomorrow. You can have one more night away from the guards’ quarters.”
Cohen starts to argue, but the captain jumps back in. “It is unseemly for you to stay at Britta’s cottage, whether or not you care. At least Miss Tierney is there as a chaperone.”
Cohen steps forward, hands in fists. “Don’t say another word.”