“You know about the Spiriter, then?” I ask Captain Omar, allowing the change in conversation.
“Yes, which is another reason I’ve come to talk to you. Lord Jamis is charged with your father’s murder as well as treason against the king. He’s detained in the dungeon but has refused to speak to anyone, despite our persuasion. We don’t know who he was working with. Do you?”
“No,” I tell him. “She wasn’t in the room. Though she couldn’t have been far. For her bind to work, she would’ve had to be close. I could sense her somewhere in the castle. I would’ve searched for her if I could have pinpointed her location.”
He strokes his beard. “Interesting.”
“If that’s all, Captain Omar and Leif, the girl needs her rest.” Gillian takes my cup.
The door creaks open, and Cohen appears in the doorway with Siron’s shadowy form behind him. His sudden appearance is such a pleasant surprise, it takes me a moment to realize I didn’t feel his approach. The horse lets out a saluting snort, which makes me smile. The sight of Cohen, healthy and strong, fills my heart with such peace and happiness.
Captain Omar stands. “I was just leaving,” he tells Gillian, and then faces me. He clears his throat. “I wanted to say thank you.”
My lips part in surprise. “You—?you’re welcome.”
Before the captain leaves, Leif moves to my side. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he says with a bashful smile. “I just came to tell you that anytime you need me, I’ll be here for you.”
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” I tell him. “I’ll always consider you a friend.”
He blushes. “You deserved that and more.”
When Leif leaves the cottage with the captain, Cohen steps forward, and two things I hadn’t noticed a few minutes before steal my thoughts—?his disheveled hair and haunted eyes.
“Britta.” He says my name almost reverently as his eyes sweep over my face.
“I thought you went to the castle to sleep.”
A half smile plays on his mouth. “I did take a small nap, but I’m restless without you near. And even more restless when I see Leif at your side.” He frowns and I laugh. “I’d rather be here and exhausted than anywhere else.”
His words put a lump in my throat. “I didn’t know you were welcome to sleep at the castle.”
“That changes after you help save the king’s life.”
Is that so? I wonder. I glance around my cottage and hope that my life is done changing. I’m happy right here.
I shift to the side of the bed. “There’s room for two. Perhaps then we can both get some rest.”
He drops down beside me, maneuvering his arm beneath my head so I’m curled into his body.
“Tell me what happened after we split up in the woods,” he says.
I explain about the captain’s attack and Enat’s death. When tears trail down my cheeks, he kisses them away and then smiles so sweetly at me, I temporarily forget my heartache.
“Bernard and I made it nearly to Finn’s camp when we were overcome by a group of guards,” Cohen says. He goes on to tell how the captain set up the entire trap. Finn may be in the king’s army, but he was never in danger of being moved to the frontline. The captain, who hoped to flush Cohen out of hiding and anyone willing to help him, spread those rumors.
I’m tempted to spend time thinking of all the ways we could’ve done things differently. How we might’ve spared Enat’s life. But one thing Enat taught me is to stop living in the past and look toward the future.
Gillian crosses the room to the fireplace and adds a log to the fire before excusing herself and leaving Cohen and me alone in the cottage.
“All that matters is you’re here with me,” I tell him.
Cohen presses his hand to his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such sweet words out of your smart mouth.”
“I promise not to make a habit out of it.” My smile mirrors his.
He takes my hand and adds pressure. “I should be thanking you. You saved my life.”
“We did it together.”
“Together,” he murmurs into my hair. “I like that.”
I do too. I look into the crawling flames. The wood crackles and pops as the fire licks its edges, until it’s consuming the log. We’re bathed in glorious heat.
Gillian returns a short while later and drops into my father’s chair. She pulls out her knitting. I curl up against Cohen’s sturdy frame, intoxicated by the feeling of peace in my home.
“How long do you think she’ll stay?” Cohen whispers mischievously to me.
“It could be days or weeks. I don’t know. She seems tenacious.”
“Then she better get used to me kissing you and taking advantage of your immobile state.”
My eyes widen at the warmth in his warning while he grins down at me.