“Are you worried she won’t make it? Or are you afraid Hagan isn’t trustworthy?”
“Neither.” Britta lowers her hand. “I—I just want to make everything right. She’s this way because I . . .” Her voice cracks, and she stops talking.
Her vulnerability nearly undoes me. I want to take this strong girl into my arms and comfort her. After everything she’s done for me, I want to be the support she needs.
“Britta, this isn’t your fault.” If anything, it’s mine.
“It’s kind of you to say so.” She glances up through the fan of her pale lashes. That same something I felt before snags beneath my breastbone. The urge to press my lips to her forehead comes like when I kissed her in the castle.
Only this time I don’t act on it. First, because Finn’s standing nearby, his face vacant where it isn’t bruised. He needs food and rest. Second, because a glance at the surrounding farmland deters me. It’s still dark, but dawn will be coming up on the horizon soon. Though we have these precious moments to breathe and regroup, we’re still running for our lives. We will be until we find Omar. The smartest thing for us to do would be to spend as little time as possible dropping Gillian off, and then getting on our way.
“Come on.” I clear my throat. “Come meet Hagan.”
A frown tightens Britta’s mouth and stays in place even after the healer has opened the door.
Hagan the healer casts a fearful look at the road. “Hurry. Hurry inside.”
He twists the lock behind us. “Men have sieged the city and have locked it down. If they catch up to you, they’ll kill you.”
Of course Jamis’s men have taken Brentyn. I shake my head. I should’ve already anticipated his move on the city. If Hagan lived in town, rather than on the outskirts, we might’ve ridden right into Jamis’s hands.
Finn goes to sit by the fireplace while I follow Hagan to a room with an empty bed. I lower Gillian onto the mattress, making sure her head rests on the pillow. “No one saw us come this way. And when we go, we’ll leave through the woods behind your property.” The non-direct route out of the valley is for his benefit as much as it is for ours. If I can, I would keep Hagan from danger.
I tell him the harrowing details of what happened at the castle. While I talk, he touches Gillian’s neck, checking for a pulse, and then moves on to her arms and legs to check for broken bones. His examination is thorough, despite how his countenance turns ashen as my story progresses.
“She’ll be sore and tired for a few days, but I’ve a salve for her wounds and a tincture for the pain.” Hagan lifts a couple of small jars from a wooden chest of drawers. “I also have Beannach water if you’re all right with me using Channeler magic to heal her.”
“Of course I am.”
He nods his approval.
“I need to leave Gillian in your care,” I explain, telling Hagan that Britta, Finn, and I are going to go after Captain Omar. While I’m discussing the details, I notice Britta’s fists are white balls of tension. Her eyes cut to Hagan and back to me in a way that tells me she wants privacy.
When Hagan steps out of the room to grab the Beannach water, Britta eliminates the distance between us and rises on her toes, bringing her lips near my cheek. “I could just heal her. I could fix her and we could be on our way.”
She grips my arms. It’s such a surprising maneuver, aligning our bodies in this way that I don’t think to lower myself and make it easier for her to whisper in my ear. I’m frozen by the proximity of her body.
I give myself a mental slap. Now’s certainly not the time. “D-do you think that’s best?”
“I don’t know.”
I tip my face down. Now we’re eye to eye. “I don’t know much about your ability. I do know, however, you took weeks to recover from healing me. You’ve been in the dungeon for almost two days, and you just did something to Phelia, right? That had to be taxing.”
Her gaze drops to the scar on my neck. I ignore the rush it sends through me because it’s ridiculous to feel this way given the danger we’re in.
“If you heal Gillian, will you be strong enough to leave?”
She groans, obviously accepting what must be done. “No.”
We’ll need allies. Men. “We have to go.”
She nods, an unconvincing tip of her chin.
“Britt.” Finn stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He eyes us, and I step away from her, reminding myself that Britta and this boy’s brother are . . . something. What, exactly? Does she love Cohen Mackay?
“I’ll stay with her,” Finn continues. “I’ll only slow you down. Gillian’s going to need someone here. Worst case, I’ll have to hide her should Jamis’s men come.”
Fear sets his voice wobbling, but he’s putting forth a strong front, and that should be commended. “Brave choice, Finn.”
He blinks, apparently stunned by the compliment.
Britta walks over to Finn and clutches his hand. “Now who is the brave one?” She glances over her shoulder at Gillian. “Keep her safe.”
Finn grows a smidge taller. “I will.”
There’s no more time for goodbyes so I pat Finn on the shoulder. I don’t have any coins for Hagan, but I promise him repayment when we retake the castle—I will not let myself think failure is a possibility.
Hagan offers us bedrolls, a tent tarp, and some food for our travels. He even provides a better-fitting change of clothes to me, since mine are filthy. After hurriedly scrubbing myself with soap and water, I change into Hagan’s trousers and winter tunic. When he offers his coat, however, I turn it down. It’s his only one and should he flee, he’ll need it. Though it’s sure to be near freezing in the mountains, the winter tunic and trousers are thicker than what I was wearing. They’ll have to do.
Britta accepts his bow and quiver of arrows. I can tell by the way her hands stroke the curved wood that her confidence in our ability to find Omar has grown.
After a quick meal, Britta loads up Gale while I keep watch. Snowfire will stay behind should Finn need a horse.
The sun is rising when Britta and I reach the woods, but it brings no warmth, only gray light that turns the frost on the horizon into colorless haze.
Chapter
35
Cohen
THE BEDROOM DOOR FLIES OPEN. THE ACTION startles a jerk out of me, followed by a wince and a groan. Seeds, my ribs.
I scowl at the intruder, a woman with snakes of red hair, as she unapologetically enters.
“Be nice, it’s my aunt,” Lirra warns. She pushes off the chair where she’s been sitting beside the window, staring out at the snow-dusted treetops, and crosses the room in two strides. Her arms go around the fearsome intruder. “Cohen, meet my aunt Katallia.”
“Your mother’s sister?” I’d heard all of Millner Barrett’s family was killed after he snuck into Shaerdan.