Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)

He points to Siron, who is busy eating foliage. “I’ve just returned from traveling alone. I’ll be fine going alone again.”


“There’s more of a threat now. If I’d known there was a hefty bounty on our heads, I wouldn’t have agreed to you going alone earlier. It’s too dangerous. Too many unknowns. Right, Enat?”

His forehead creases, his eyes shifting between me and Enat. “You really think I’d let them catch me?”

Always willing to take unnecessary risks, always daring to take chances. “Regardless, it’s safer to go together. You know that. We’ll have more than the guards to worry about now. You need someone to watch your back.”

“I don’t need you to come.”

I pretend his words don’t hurt. “We were trained by the same man. Have you forgotten Safety ensures survival? We both go or we both stay.”

Enat steps between us. “Britta is right. There’s safety in numbers. I’d tell you to stay, but it makes sense to find out what the guards are planning. Once you do, though, I expect you both back here.”

I smirk, humored by how almost maternal she is being.

Cohen grunts, not pleased with the development.



It is midafternoon when we leave, and the fog has lifted. By the time we reach the outskirts of Celize, a sliver of a moon hangs in the cloudy sky. The darkness works well for us, making it easier to move into the city unseen as we seek the whereabouts of the guards.

I pull out the hat and cane I brought from Enat’s home and hand both to Cohen.

I scoop up some mud. “Here. You should dirty your face. It’ll help with the disguise.”

He rubs the dirt on his cheeks and arms until he has a vagabond appearance. Still, he’s too striking. I worry the disguise isn’t enough. As we move into Celize, a few houses on the outskirts have lines of flapping clothes out to dry. Before Cohen can protest, I grab an oversize green tunic and hand it to him.

“Wear this. It’ll help.”

“Stealing again?” His mouth quirks. “I thought we were trying to avoid a hanging.”

“Borrowing, not stealing. You need something that doesn’t look like you.”

He pulls it on and then flaps his arms to the sides, playing with the excess material. He groans. “I look like a lad playing in his father’s tunic.”

“A wee vagabond lad,” I correct, though he’s anything but that.

“I don’t want to hear those words out of your mouth ever again.” He glares and puffs out his chest, drawing a laugh out of me. “Will you be all right up there?” He points to the line of houses. When I tell him yes, his expression sobers. “If there’s trouble, use your bow. I’ll be back as soon as I find out where they’re lodging.”

He hesitates and I can tell he’s worried for me, because that’s Cohen. He always needs to make sure everyone else is well. “Go now,” I urge. “I can take care of myself. Stop wasting time.”

With a nod, Cohen heads for the first tavern, while I climb the trellis to the roof. There I crouch in the shadow of a chimney. Three stories above the street, the spot provides a raven’s view of the surrounding city blocks. The murmur of voices echoes from conversations below.

A lot like hunting, I wait patiently, scrutinizing every movement and listening for anything pertinent. The waves are too loud and make it nearly impossible to gather any information. So when my legs start to cramp, I abandon my first spot and sneak along the connected rooflines, keeping low, until I find another chimney shadow with a better view.

The time passes slowly. And hours later, when most of the kinsmen have retired for the night, I still haven’t gleaned anything useful.

A whistle pierces the night—?Cohen’s sign.

Hopefully he was able to get more information than I was. Moving from my hiding spot, I shimmy off the roof onto a tree and work my way down, slowly, silently, till my feet touch the ground. Thankfully, Enat returned my tunic and trousers for this excursion. I can only imagine how difficult scaling a tree would be in a dress.

Cohen and I agreed to meet at the edge of the village, close to the cliffs where the forest thickens. Though we may be near town for a few days, it’s safer to stay in the woods each night, where we would draw less interest than if we’d stayed at an inn. Sticking to the shadows, it takes some time to sneak unseen out of the city and to our hiding place.

When I arrive, he isn’t there.

I wait for him to come and begin pacing the woods when the seconds tick by too slowly. Perhaps the whistle belonged to someone else. Perhaps—?

Someone grabs me around my waist.

I screech and then twist to elbow my attacker, when he chuckles. It’s Cohen. I relax into his strong, warm hold for a moment before ducking out of his grip.

“Got you.” He grins at me. The sight of his wide smile steals my breath. I punch him in the gut. He takes the hit, folding over at his waist, and continues laughing silently. I wish we were always like this.

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