The only man who has a chance of tracking Cohen or me is the captain. By splitting up, we would make it impossible for the captain to find us both. Together, we’re two halves of a massive target.
“You mean we,” Cohen says in that arrogant way I’ve not missed at all.
I shoot him a withering look. “No. I’m certain I spoke correctly when I said I.”
“You have a lot of I’s there.” He teases as his eyes follow my movement to the door.
“Exactly. So you won’t be confused when I leave.”
He crosses the room in three steps, setting his bowl beside mine on the bed and moving between the door and me. “As it stands, I have more information than you. Your best bet is me. You go with me.”
That deserves an eye roll. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still pushy and overbearing.”
He gives me a tilted smile that does whispery things through every bit of me.
Even if he’s arrogant, he’s right. “What information do you have?”
“We need to head to the coast of Shaerdan. To Celize.”
Oh. Cohen really is going to cross the border, which means going with him will make us both traitors. I’ve lived my life resenting my mother’s choice. Could I really willingly become a traitor? The thought sickens me.
“Why Celize?”
The corners of his mouth tip down, as if he’s confused about my question. “Saul was killed in a tavern there.”
“He was killed in Celize?” The question is more for myself than Cohen.
Cohen nods, understanding dawning in his caring eyes.
“How?” I whisper.
It’s clear he doesn’t want to answer by the way his lips form a tight line. When I repeat my question, he concedes. “He was stabbed in the back. Blade went right through the heart.”
“Your dagger,” I supply, out of breath.
He nods. “I was in Celize on a tip about finding the Archtraitor. His bounty would pay off my family’s farm and give my sister a sizable dowry. The night before Saul was killed, a thief broke into the room while I slept. It made no sense to me. I should’ve woken if someone was in my room.”
He hangs his head. “They stole my coat, my dagger, and my money.”
I walk to the lone chair in the room and flop down, needing to rest against the weight of the new information. Even though I knew Papa was murdered, hearing the details of his death makes me unbearably sad.
“Britt,” Cohen says softly. He pushes off the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this news to hurt you. I thought you knew about Saul’s death.” How can he always read me like a book? He squats in front of me, his hands touching my knees. His Adam’s apple rises and falls beneath the muddy-brown stubble scattered over his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m being pushy. You always hated it when I told you what to do. Tell me what you want to know.”
“Everything.” My reply is soft.
“All right. Saul’s last bounty hunt took him into Shaerdan. After he delivered the prisoner to Omar at the border, Saul told him he’d need a week more.”
Captain Omar never mentioned he was working with my father. In all the time we traveled together, he could’ve mentioned it. Hateful man. I see now how someone could’ve framed Cohen, but it takes a moment to process what he’s told me about Papa’s death. The guards who came to my door to report Papa’s death lied to me. They said he was killed while tracking a criminal.
“How do you know this?”
“It’s my business to know these things. Your father’s contacts became all my confidants. Many he introduced when I was an apprentice, and after I started hunting, I worked with them often. I’m lucky that some stayed true to me even after the murder accusations,” he says, though he sounds anything but pleased with his luck. It must’ve stung when not all his contacts stayed true. Cohen explains how he spent the first few weeks after the murder gathering information and putting together Papa’s timeline while he was in Shaerdan. “Only the other day did I receive word that Saul was searching for a woman,” he says.
“And you’re certain it wasn’t another assignment from the king?”
He shakes his head. “Saul covered his tracks so well, it’s clear he didn’t want anyone, not the king or the royal guards, to know whom he was searching for.”
“Enat.” She’s a piece to this puzzle.
Cohen’s hand squeezes my leg, a confirmation. He stands, moving back to lean against the door. “I don’t know why he was searching for her, but when we find Enat, I’m sure we’ll find the murderer. Or at the very least, the reason someone wanted Saul dead.”
I wonder if he even realizes how he’s inserted we into his sentences. I figured that as the older sibling of Imogen and Finn, he bossed them around as much as he tried to boss me. When we were younger, Cohen always wanted to take the head position. Even when it led us into trouble. How much trouble waits if I go with Cohen now?