If only Papa had left information, even the smallest clue. I always thought Papa held no secrets from me. How wrong I was.
“You’re right. I was reckless.” Cohen’s voice interrupts my line of thinking. “Earlier in the day I noticed the tracks of three horses, and I guessed it was the guards. I decided to follow them to see where they were headed.”
His admission stuns me.
“I sent you to the river so I could assess their strengths and weaknesses,” he admits. “But when I overheard Leif mention Omar was gone gathering supplies, I seized the opportunity.”
“We could’ve slipped past them, and they’d be none the wiser.” My pitch rises with incredulity. “Only, you decided it would be best to pick a fight?”
“Thought I’d do a little damage and slow them down.”
My hands are fists around the back edge of the saddle to keep me from pummeling him, while he doesn’t move a muscle. Just sits there, calmly telling me he thrust us into the guards’ reach, like we’re two farmers discussing a troublesome cow’s teat. “Of all the risky things you’ve ever done, this one”—?my breath lances out—?“this one could win a gold ribbon at the Midsummer’s Tide fair.”
“Yeah, Britt. It was foolish.” He groans, the sound brimming with pain as if someone’s punched him in the gut. “At the time it seemed like a good idea.”
A good idea would’ve been Cohen telling me he’d spotted tracks, instead of making a brash decision. Back when he apprenticed for Papa, he was always bent on doing what he thought was best without asking for my input. Of course the bludger hasn’t changed.
I forge on, my frustration spilling out, a barrel of ale with a broken spigot. “A good idea, like the time you insisted we take the extra buck meat to market. You didn’t believe me when I said no one would trade with me.”
He straightens in the saddle.
“Or the time you went after that wild boar with only your dagger? The healer had to sew up your arm.”
“Point taken. I can be brash,” he says. “I should’ve mentioned the guards’ tracks. It was just a shock to see they were so close.” Cohen twists to look over his shoulder at me, the moonlight shifting over his brown hair, painting his dark locks blue.
I snort, more irritated with my detour in attention than his excuse, but decide to let the matter go. It cannot be undone.
“That time we went to market with the meat,” he says a short while later, voice reflective, “I was thinking of you. You never liked the clothes Saul gave you, and I thought . . .” He clears his throat. The sound snares me, holds me in its trap, transforming me into immobile, breathless prey. “Thought you’d like something new. Something you could pick out. Something special.”
His words are water, dousing the fire of my irritation. Regardless of the warnings I’ve given myself, his confession makes me long for the past. Why didn’t he tell me this before? That’s the question I want to ask, but instead I say, “What will we do now that they know we’re ahead of them?”
“We’ve got to use the small lead to our advantage. Gain some distance.”
“You don’t know the captain. I’ve never met a more devoted criminal hunter. If anything, you surely lit a fire under Captain Omar.”
“I know the captain just fine,” he says with a heavy sigh, which tells me he agrees with my last comment.
We travel in the darkness, falling into silence, leaving time for me to think about his admission of wanting something nicer for me.
After a stretch, Cohen pulls a cap from his pack and hands it to me. “I should’ve given this to you a couple days ago when you changed tunics. It worked well enough when you were traveling with Omar.”
I hold the cap in my hands.
Cohen twists even more in the saddle until his face is a hand’s distance from mine. Silvery moonbeams caress his strong jaw and straight nose. Mesmerized by the colorless shadows and highlights on his face, I don’t notice his hand until he brushes a hair from my cheek. His touch sends a jolt of surprise through me.
“Your hair shines too much,” he whispers. “It reflects the moon. Right now you’re a moving torch for anyone to see.” His hand wraps over my hand holding the cap. “You should wear it.”
A tingle spreads beneath my skin until my entire body feels more alive than it’s ever been. No compliment’s been spoken, and yet here I am soaking in his words like a steamed bath. I swallow a smile, place the cap on my head, and shove my shining hair into hiding.
Chapter
13
WE STOP A FEW HOURS BEFORE DAWN.
Cohen offers to take the first watch. He dismounts and then reaches up to help me off. I let him because exhaustion hit me hours ago and his strong hands around my waist are comforting.
“We should both sleep, since neither one of us has rested much in days,” I tell him. Leif and Tomas were unconscious when we left. Even if they tracked us, night has fallen, hiding any prints we made before we took to the stream.