He snorts. “Come on, then.”
Siron follows us through the widened tree opening. When we reach the treehouse door, Cohen knocks while I keep my hand on my dagger. When Enat doesn’t answer, Cohen’s brows lift in question. “Do you think—”
The air slices between us and an arrow thunks into the door. My heartbeat floods my senses as Cohen jumps back and I duck, sucking in a sharp inhale.
“State your business,” a woman’s voice booms from the woods.
“It was an arrow. Not a sword,” I whisper to Cohen. “You were wrong.”
Cohen glares at me as he drops low. “Don’t be a fool. Now isn’t the time to jest.”
I ignore his whisper and sidestep out of his reach. Humor aside, we don’t have much time, and I need this woman to trust us enough to share her secrets. “We’re looking for Enat,” I call out. “Are you her?”
“Even if I am, I’m not interested. Get off my porch.”
I turn to Cohen with a What should we do? look.
“My second arrow won’t miss,” the woman who must be Enat warns.
Cohen rises from his crouch and touches my arm. “Britta, let’s go.”
“No.” I pull away, giving him a withering, silencing look. We would be fools to give up so easily after we’ve come so far. “We just need—”
A second arrow zips two fingers’ width past Cohen’s left ear.
“Bloody stars!” He grabs me, pulling my tunic as he seeks shelter away from the target area. “Britta, come on. We’re sitting ducks.”
“We cannot leave without talking to her,” I plead with him.
“We won’t be talking when we’re dead.”
I rub the back of my hand against my forehead, trying to think of another option and coming up with nothing. “She’s our only lead.”
Cohen shields us behind a tree to the side of her porch.
He grits his teeth. “Please don’t move. Let me try. All right?” Then he calls to the woman. “I’m only asking that you hear us out. A few questions. Then we’ll leave.”
“Boy, don’t lie to me.”
Surprisingly, she’s guessed correctly. Cohen’s words make my insides dip in temperature.
“If you want my help,” she yells, her voice gruff and gravelly, “don’t come on my land and try to fool me. Your next lie will be the last thing that leaves your mouth.”
I put a hand up, stopping Cohen from saying anything more. “Let me.”
He doesn’t seem pleased, but he agrees. The woman has said enough that I can pinpoint her location. She’s in a fortress of wooden slats high in the branches.
“Please,” I call out. “Saul Flannery, King Aodren’s bounty hunter, was murdered nearly three months ago while on his way to find you. I just want—?I mean, do you know anything about that?”
She doesn’t answer. Not a single word.
Panic sets in, since she’s our only lead to understanding what happened to Papa. Still, we cannot waste time with the guards on our tail and Cohen needing to return to his family.
“Let’s head back to Celize and talk to Delmar,” Cohen suggests, quietly, consolingly. “Maybe he’ll have another lead.”
“No.” We need her. We would be foolish to leave. Even if she doesn’t know who the murderer is, Papa was after her for a reason and we need to find out why. If we turn away now, then Cohen and I have come all this way for nothing.
I cannot give up this easily. Hopelessness wells up inside me.
There is one thing I have left to barter. I unsheathe Papa’s blade and hold it on an open palm. A raindrop lands on the forged steel. Another on the sapphire. A steady sprinkle of moisture breaks through the branches and dots the area all around us.
“What are you doing, Britt?”
I ignore Cohen and step into the open, figuring if the woman were going to kill me, she would’ve already hit her target. It’s clear she’s a master bow-woman.
“This—?this dagger.” I hold it out for her to see. “It’s all I have . . .” Emotion overwhelms me. But no matter its significance, the blade means nothing if we are captured by the guards and hanged for murder.
“Don’t do this.” Cohen takes a step toward me. The break in his voice reverberates in the center of my soul, making me stop even though this has to be done.
“It’s worth a great deal,” I say, pushing my voice to be a little louder. A little stronger. “I can see your windows are in need of repair. Perhaps you could use some supplies before winter.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes. I’m suddenly grateful for the steady patter of drops that have begun to fall all around us. Cohen’s hand lands on my shoulder. His reassuring touch gives me strength to continue.