Ever the Hunted (Clash of Kingdoms #1)

“It will work.” I rest my hands on his chest. “It has to.”


Cohen steps away from me. Now that we’re no longer touching, I can see how ravaged his face looks, smudges lingering beneath his eyes and worry lines creasing his brow. “I cannot leave you.”

If only the consequences of his choices weren’t so devastating.

What I don’t tell Cohen is how scared I am to watch him go. He left me once and didn’t return. But this decision isn’t about me. It’s about his family needing him. “You cannot leave Finn out there alone,” I say.

Cohen slams his hand into the nearest trunk. “I know.” His shoulders slump. “I know, Britt,” he repeats, quieter, subdued. Cohen looks off into the distance, pain and indecision flickering across his face like the dance of a flame over darkness. Out of the trees, Siron slips between us, a black cape covering his owner.

“How will you cross the border?” Cohen’s voice is so quiet, I can barely hear him behind his big horse. “The guards—”

“I am the only watchman in this section of the woods right now,” Bernard interrupts. “I’ve adjusted the other men’s schedules so no one is to come near my post for hours. If they travel quickly, they’ll be fine getting into Malam.”

If what he says is true, our only obstacle now will be traveling from the border to the castle. I’m grateful to Bernard for his help.

“Enat and I will be careful,” I tell Bernard.

With a hand on Siron’s neck, Cohen moves so he can see me. His face is anguish and worry and anger. He sighs, and the sound nearly breaks me because I know he’ll leave. And I want him to go. But fear reminds me that any goodbye may be our last.

Cohen will come back.

It won’t be like last time.

He’ll return to me.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he says, as if he can read the niggling doubt in my thoughts. “I’ll find Finn and then I’ll meet you before you reach the castle. Promise, Dove. In three days’ time, meet me at our tree in the Evers.”

Hope floats inside me. Everything will be fine.

“Three days,” I confirm. “And you’ll come back to me.”

He releases Siron and crosses the distance between us, clutching me to his muscular frame. My arms circle his waist while his wrap my shoulders in warmth. “I will always come back to you.” His nose presses into my hair as he plants a soft kiss on my temple. “Trust me, Dove.”

It doesn’t take long for the men to load up. It’s much quicker than I anticipate.

What seems like only moments later, Cohen is riding away on Siron.

I wave and then turn my head so he cannot see the emotion in my eyes or the errant tears that trace my cheeks. Cohen said he will return, and I believe him. I do.



We ride hard for two days to put space between the border and us, only slowing when the climb from the lowlands steepens. Frost covers the leaves on the forest floor and the white-capped mountains in the distance. We’re lucky the snow hasn’t covered this pass.

“You love that boy,” Enat says from where she sits behind me as we both ride Aspen into Malam. It’s a statement and not a question, but I find myself nodding.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I’m glad. He’s a good man and good for you. When this is all over, you should marry him.”

I smile, enjoying the daydream sparked by her comment.

A hundred birds whoosh out of the nearby trees and flap away in a massive cloud of black wings. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. Aspen whinnies and canters backwards, fear turning her haunches rigid.

“Hush,” I whisper soothingly as I pat her neck while scanning the forest for the source of the birds’ movement.

And then I hear it—?not so far away, a rhythmic pounding vibrates the forest—?horses. Two, possibly more.

Enat grips my waist. “We have company. Let’s go.”

Digging my heels into Aspen’s side, I urge the horse into a sprint, skirting the origin of the birds’ flight. The forest flies past, gravel and dead leaves spattering outward in the urgency of our plight. Enat curses, and in my periphery a shadow breaks from the trees, matching our frantic pace.

Tomas appears to the south.

“Stop!” Captain Omar’s command thunders over the pounding of hooves around us.

We cannot be caught. The captain, Papa’s murderer, will surely not let us live to see the high lord. Enat hunkers down, lowering her head to my back, and commands Aspen to go faster.

Behind the captain, Leif breaks out of the trees. Three against two aren’t terrible odds. I push Aspen as fast as a Southland horse.

Captain Omar cuts northward. “Stop now!” he yells. “Or I’ll spare the hanging and slice you through now.”

His threat is terrifying because it’s true. Every word.

“Keep going,” Enat says, though stopping isn’t even a consideration. She twists in the saddle, pulling her bow over her head, and—?

Erin Summerill's books