“Aunt Kat!” Lirra stares at the woman like she’s just admitted to aiding Lord Jamis. “We have to help.”
“I’m sorry, Lirra. So far I’ve given you all the help you’ve asked for. Without question. I let you into this safe house with royal guards, knowing it could mean my death. What you’re asking now is too much.” Katallia’s eyes flick to the other women in the room. “The Guild may discuss this matter further, but your input”—she looks pointedly at me and Leif—“is no longer wanted. You’re welcome to stay while your captain is recovering. But once he’s on the mend, I expect you to go.”
We sit, shocked silent, as the women file out of the room. Their footsteps echo down the hall to another room. The door latches closed. Voices begin. I can pick out Seeva’s cold tone and Yasmin’s measured cadence, but no words.
“You all should rest.” Lirra stands and rubs her hands on her skirt. She gives me a pointed look. “And you won’t heal if you don’t lie down and put salve on your wounds.”
I move my arm to demonstrate how quickly I’m healing. “What’s in that salve? It’s taken the edge off the pain.”
She nods to the closed door. “You should ask Yasmin. It’s from her collection of herbs. But yes, it speeds up the healing.”
It’s nothing compared to what Britta did, but I’m grateful nonetheless.
When I don’t move, she says, “Standing there isn’t going to convince the Guild.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I turn away from the door. “Any idea what could?”
She shakes her head and leads me to the room we’ve been sharing. Although, now that I think about it, I’ve been sleeping on the bed. Don’t know where Lirra’s been resting.
“Do you really need them?” she asks. “Couldn’t you reach out to the nearest fiefs, build an army, and fight your way back into Brentyn and the castle?”
“You make that sound so simple.” I sit down on the bed and try to hide my wince. “What you’re proposing takes time. Takes organization.” I blow out a breath. I think of Finn and his freely given smile that’s all gums and teeth. I don’t want to wonder about where he is right now, because all I will do is spend the rest of the night worrying. “That’s time I don’t have.”
Lirra points at the bed as if to say, Lie down.
I do as requested.
“I’m going to talk to my aunt. See if I can change the Guild’s mind into helping us.”
I like how she uses the term us. It says something about Lirra, that she’s willing to fight for this cause even if her aunt isn’t.
“Hey, Lirra, I’m sorry I still haven’t found Orli. I didn’t plan for things to go this way.”
She shrugs. “Does life ever go as planned? Besides, I figure we know exactly where Orli is now. She must be at the castle since that’s where Jamis and Phelia are.”
Lirra gently lowers herself onto the mattress, so as to make it move less. I wonder if she’s doing this to spare me some pain, or if she’s suddenly feeling shy about our proximity.
The thing is, Lirra’s a beautiful girl. Her big eyes and pretty face could lure any man looking to be lured.
I’m not.
Someone shoves my shoulder, and ache runs through my torso. Nothing as bad as a few days ago, but it gets me to crack my eyes open.
The room’s dark. Moonlight’s pouring in through the window. Lirra’s on my bed, kind of hovering over me.
I rub my eyes. “What’s going on?” A yawn stretches out my words.
“Word just came. A man and a woman matching Britta’s and Aodren’s descriptions were sighted earlier today by one of the Guild’s confidants not far from here, just off the road through the woods. Maybe a few leagues away.” Her voice is a quick roll of words, one tumbling out after the other.
I sit up with a jolt and, damn, pain cracks me under the armpit. I shake it off and stand, searching for my boots. “Let’s go.”
I knew Britta would make it out. “Get Leif,” I tell Lirra.
Leif comes striding in, looking sleepy but ready to go a couple of minutes later. Five more after that, the three of us are out the door, saddled up, and riding east.
Following the directional tip Katallia received from her confidant, Leif and I keep our eyes peeled to the woods. Snow has dropped as deep as my knees. Knowing most of it fell overnight, I doubt Britta would’ve risked traveling. Since there are no caves in these hills, Britta most likely looked for a tall tree that has some branch coverage against the storm. We press on, keeping our eyes open for a camp setup.
We don’t risk calling out for them in case they’ve been followed. Wouldn’t want to alert Jamis’s men.
The horses cut through the fresh snowpack easily enough, but the dense white seems endless. Siron tips his head up, ears flicking forward.
“What’s there, boy?” I rub his neck.
He runs straight at the trees and then slows. I lean on my good hand to slide off the saddle so I can take a look around. As soon as my boots hit the ground, I see the flap of a tarp by the base of a tree, where the snowfall is lightest. She was always the smarter one of us when it came to survival.
Emotion burns my throat. Must be the overwhelming relief at finding her after all we’ve both been through. I take the ten strides to the tent in five steps. I crouch, peel back the tarp, and—
“What the hell’s going on here?” I gawk, not understanding what I’m seeing. Tucked up to the king’s back, Britta’s got her arms around his body and her nose against his neck. Her eyes crack open, and she looks at me blearily as Leif moves behind me.
“Cohen?” Britta sits up, and as she does, the bedroll splits open, giving a view of her fancy underthings to me, Leif, and King Aodren, who’s slowly waking up beside her. The royal bastard. Royal Naked Bastard. The dress that I bought her, tattered and covered in muck, is piled on top of them, along with a man’s tunic and trousers.
I shake my head, confusion rolling into disbelief spinning into anger.
The king sits up without a speck of clothing on and puts his arm in front of Britta as if he’s shielding her from us. From me.
Something snaps.
The dagger’s in my hand and I’m pointing it at the bloody king of Malam. “Get. Out. I’m going to kill you.”
Chapter
42
Britta
NO ONE TALKS.
Not even after I dress and saddle up behind Cohen.
Not the entire time Siron carries us into Tahr.
Rigid and welcoming as iron armor, Cohen has effectively shut me out. I should explain that we were combating winter exposure and frostbite. The wind was relentless. I thought the king might freeze to death.
I hate the way Cohen reacted without asking questions. Now, anger has me tongue-tied.
The horses break from the trees. Below, drifts of white span the valley from mountain to mountain. I allow myself to glance back at Aodren, who gives me an apologetic smile.