Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)

“He hurt me,” I say to Siron, my forehead dropped against his sturdy shoulder. “And I don’t know how to forgive him.”


“Please say that isn’t true.”

Spine snapping straight, I back away from his horse as I lift the bow, taking aim. “You shouldn’t be here, Cohen.”

With his body leaning against a tree and arms crossed, his notice flicks to the point of my arrow and back to my face. “You going to shoot me?”

“I’m considering it.”

He sighs through his nose. “Guess I deserve that.”

I lower the bow. “Explain yourself, Cohen. Make sense of this.”

“I was only doing what Saul asked. I—”

“Stop. Please stop.” I don’t want to hear that Papa knew I had other family. Or that he shared such secrets with my best friend. I’ve been battling those emotions since I wandered into this area of the forest, and hearing them from his tongue only scrubs salt into the wound. “Don’t speak of Papa. Right now I need to know why you didn’t tell me when we arrived in Celize.”

“I swear I didn’t know who Enat was at first. I had an idea, but Saul never told me her name, only that she was still alive. And he said she was a Spiriter. After we arrived, I confirmed my suspicions. I would’ve told you, but your father—”

“My father is dead!”

Cohen’s jaw tightens against his placid expression.

“You couldn’t have told me when Papa died? I was alone. I had no one. Nowhere to go. What did you think I’d do when the guards came for my home?”

He has the decency to look wounded, shoulders curling forward around his frame. “I thought you might trade for lodging. I—?I never wanted you to suffer. I gave Saul my word.” His eyes plead with me as he says this, though I’m not sure what he wants from me. His hands have a slight shake as he pulls them together. “We were protecting you.”

“Protecting me? Did you even wonder what I would do during mourning? Who would bring me food? Cohen, I nearly starved. The hunger got so bad, I could count most of my ribs. How could I have traded for lodging if I’d died?”

The realization settles in and puts a haunted look in his gaze.

“I ran out of food and couldn’t make it out of the mountains, so I was forced to poach. Captain Omar caught me and that is why I had to make this deal or hang from the noose.” All my frustration and anger forge the iron in my voice into a blade. I want my words to cut and hurt him as he’s done to me. “Is that what you and my father wanted?”

“Oh gods, Britt. I didn’t . . . I didn’t think. It seems so obvious now, but I swear, it never entered my mind. During those months, I was too focused on finding who killed your father. I didn’t sleep. Barely ate, for that matter. I know it’s not a good excuse, but it’s the truth. I . . . I’m sorry.”

I turn away, torn between yelling at him and calling him a fool.

“Please, believe me.” His voice catches. “If I’d remembered, I would’ve come. It was a stupid, terrible mistake, and I will forever be sorry.”

Even if he’s apologetic for leaving me alone in a time of mourning, it doesn’t take away from the plain truth that he has kept my heritage a secret from me.

I wave off his apology.

“Did you not trust me to keep my own secrets? You should’ve told me what I was capable of. Enat is strong and capable, and she has this ability that I know seeds about. And I—?I know nothing about myself.”

He gives me a pleading look. “You’re strong and capable as well. Hell, you’re more capable than anyone I’ve ever met.” His earnestness works like a balm, soothing my anger. Cohen crosses the space between us—?and bloody curse me to the devil if I don’t want him to come even closer. My pulse pounds and aches and bleeds hurt throughout my entire body.

“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he whispers. It’s a choppy sound, broken with sentiment I don’t understand. What’s he holding back? Are there more secrets?

“How you wanted me to find out?” I repeat, anger remembered. “You could’ve told me anytime and you didn’t. You . . . I—?I trusted you.” The strain in my voice gives away my heartache. “You’re my only friend.”

His head drops, so I’m forced to stare at his unruly mess of roasted-chestnut brown hair.

“For everything, I’m sorry.” His words are gravelly and rough. “I swear by the gods I didn’t want to leave you last year. Every day has been agony for me. Saul asked me to go. No, he begged me, saying it’d be safer for you.”

I shake my head, denying his accusation because I cannot take one more secret about Papa, even though heat is pooling in my gut. Horrid truthful heat. “You had just saved my life. Why would my father ask you to leave?”

He lifts his head. The raw passion in his eyes and on his slackened mouth pierces me.

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