Ever the Hunted

by Erin Summerill

  Cohen is leaving for the city to speak with Delmar again. Enat says he’s a trustworthy kinsman and is the one who will, in turn, contact Millner Barret and set up a meeting. Cohen argued to go alone because the guards are looking for both of us. Disguised and on his own, he could slip through town easier than if we were together.

  Part of me is grateful for the time away from him. Last night I hardly slept. Every time Cohen shifted in his sleep, I was acutely aware of his movements and his slow and steady breaths, despite our being on opposite sides of the room. Hours passed. I tossed and turned and thought about the kiss in the rain. About Cohen. About what’ll happen next.

  I fear I’ve made a terrible—​wonderful—​abysmal mistake.

  After Cohen is pardoned, he’ll leave to help his brother in the war, or he’ll return to hunt for the king. I cannot fault him for his allegiance, but I fear he won’t want to be with me. After all, he left me once before. Losing him again will crush me.

  Even if he stayed and wanted me, how could we ever be together? Cohen’s duty to his family comes first. Any ties to me will be a stain on his reputation, which could possibly have negative consequences for his mother and sister. When we were younger, he bloodied a few noses when boys teased him about being my friend. Now that we’re older, a fistfight won’t bridge the divide between our two stations in life.

  When Cohen returns, I’ll explain that the kiss was a one-time incident, a lapse in judgment to satisfy my curiosity. It meant nothing.

  The excuse rattles through my head as I sit beside Enat’s warm-springs well. The heat rising from the ring of stone contrasts with the cool clutches of mist, and I find myself shivering, despite the ridiculous dress pinching my skin.

  I fold my arms tight to my body. I’m uneasy about talking to Cohen, but what vexes me the most is that Cohen will already realize he made a mistake.

  “You have that look on your face again. What are you thinking?”

  I jump to standing, startled by Enat’s comment. She breaks through the mist with two empty baskets in each hand.

  I tug at my collar in a futile search of comfort. Blasted dress. “I was thinking about all that’s happened.” It’s not exactly a lie. I want to be honest with Enat, considering all she’s shared with me.

  “Ah.” Her brilliant blue eyes soften into a sympathetic look. “You’ve been through a lot. Your father’s death. And now this trek through Shaerdan.”

  I say nothing, letting her make her own judgments.

  “Come, then.” She raises one basket. “I could use your help. I’m short on dried herbs. And the storm’s likely blown down seeds and bark gnarls. Wouldn’t mind gathering some of those; then I don’t have to climb for them later.”

  “Do I need my bow?”

  Her head tips to the left. “Not likely, but it’s always good to be prepared. Why?”

  “The last time we were in the woods together, you used me for target practice.” I smirk. “Just wondering if I should be ready for that.”

  She barks out a laugh. “Does that wit ever get you in trouble back home?”

  “More than I’d like to admit.”

  “Hmm . . . to keep you on your toes, I’ll grab my bow before we head out.”

  This time I laugh. Enat is exactly what I need to take my mind off Cohen.

  “Are the clouds often this low?” I ask as I follow her.

  “This?” She points at the mist, parting around our knees. “This is the morning fog. It comes in and leaves again by noon.”

  “I didn’t notice it the other day.”

  “We don’t get fog every day, but enough to keep the trees happy. It keeps them strong. They are ancient, you know.”

  I nod my head. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “Some say they’re the first trees the gods planted for us. That’s why they are strong and resilient. Even fire has little effect on these beauties.”

  It seems appropriate that Enat lives here. I don’t know much about her, but I think about how she’s able to protect herself and how she is the person Papa turned to for help. She’s like the trees, strong and resilient.

  We spend a couple hours gathering herbs and seeds before returning to the cottage and laying them out to dry. Enat takes the two bark gnarls and breaks them in half. She whittles the centers with her blade until she has a pile of wood grindings.

  “What’s that for?” I ask.

  “The inside of the gnarls can be used for many purposes, a pinch to sweeten tea or even to put out a fire, since the trees are resistant to flame.”

  “Is that what you’re going to use it for?”

  She pauses, looking at me reflectively. “No. The grindings of a bark gnarl along with a pinch of chiandra can also be used to slow a person’s heart.”

  My hands stop over the split chiandra that I’ve been placing on a board to bake in the sun. “And why would you need to do that?”

  My question goes unanswered as thumping hooves echo through the trees. My heart’s rhythm scrambles to match the beat at knowing Cohen is near. I almost feel a pull toward him. His kiss will likely never leave my thoughts.

  Cohen and Siron come barreling into the clearing in front of Enat’s home. At the sight, a fluttery sensation dances from my shoulders to my shins.

  “The guards are in the village.” Cohen hops off Siron. “They’re still posing as Shaerdanian soldiers, and they’ve spread word that two Malam fugitives are hiding there. They’ve placed a bounty of a year’s wages on our heads.”

  Chapter

  24

  “WHO KNOWS YOU’RE HERE?” Enat appears at my side with a bow in hand.

  “I spoke only with Delmar.” Cohen shoves a hand through his hair. “He knew I was headed here, but he’d never betray my trust. The only other person is the woman Britta spoke to at the Elementiary. Is she trustworthy?”

  Enat relaxes. “If that’s all, then you’re safe here. No one can enter my land without a counter-charm. Astoria can be a gossip, but she’s loyal to the kinsmen and judge of Celize. She’d never betray me to royal guards from Malam. And Delmar would never betray a trust.”

  “The guards can be persuasive.” I try to make my point without questioning her judgment outright. “If Astoria’s already known as a gossip, she’d be an easy target for them.”

  “She won’t talk.” There is finality in Enat’s tone. “This isn’t the first time someone’s come knocking on her door looking for me. Channelers have an understanding. We don’t cause one another harm, and we don’t put each other in harm’s way.”

  “Even if they’re not going to talk to the guards, there’s a chance someone else noticed us.” Papa taught me to always be prepared. Though we were careful, we’re still putting her in danger. She must see that. “Anyone could’ve seen the direction we were headed. Not all the kinsmen will be loyal. We’ve already been ousted by a kinsman from Padrin.”

  “That’s true, but since leaving Padrin, we’ve been cautious.” Cohen looks at me and then turns to Enat. “Celize was empty when we left, and we didn’t cross anyone on the road. I doubt we were seen.”

  “We cannot assume that,” I say. “Our only defense is to act as though we’ve been noticed and prepare accordingly.”

  Enat scoops up the drying chiandra and puts the seeds into her basket. “Even if someone saw you, it’s difficult to travel through these woods. You’re safest here. But you should probably stay away from Celize for the next few days until your guards move on. Although most men are loyal to Judge Auberdeen, there are a few who haven’t been happy with his decisions.”

  “What? No.” We cannot stay here. They know we were looking for Enat. They’ll come after her first. “Our being here puts you in the middle of our mess.”

  “Britta’s right,” he says. “You’ve done enough for us. We’re leaving.”

  Enat could rival Cohen for best stone-like expression. She pauses over the berries and seeds drying in the sun. “Nowhere safer than here. Only
a handful of people know the route to my home. And like I said, the magic in these woods makes it impossible to find without a counter-charm. Setting up camp elsewhere would be a mistake.”

  She’s right. We would’ve never found her if Astoria hadn’t given us directions and the herb mix.

  “I know the layout of my land like every lump on my old-lady body.” She winks at the horrified expression I make. “I know the best vantage points. You’re better defending yourselves here.” She has a point there, even if she’s made it ineloquently. “They won’t find us. But for the sake of arguing that they will, if they come, it’ll be more excitement than I’ve had in years. Could use a good fight. I haven’t had decent target practice in a while.”

  I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of her arrow. At least not again. Enat is as formidable as Captain Omar, with a touch more of madness. Perhaps it’s her brashness that makes me forget her bent body.

  Cohen looks at me, his face full of silent questioning. When I shrug, he answers for us both. “All right. Britta can stay here while I head into town.” My mouth pops open. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. “We need to keep an eye on them so we know what they’re up to. Stay one step ahead of them. I’ll return once I have more information on the guards’ plans.”

  “No.” Belatedly realizing how loud my opposition sounded, I wrinkle my nose and start again quieter than before. “Cohen, you cannot go alone. How would we know if they catch up to you? If something happened?”

  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.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “They’re staying at the Silver Eel Inn.” Even though my eyes have adjusted to the forest’s canopy of darkness, when he moves back, it’s hard to see him clearly.

  “What are they doing? When are they leaving?”

  “I overheard mention of an ambush a few days ago. Half a troop of Shaerdanian men were slaughtered. From what I gathered, the chief judge and inner court have issued a call to all soldiers to report to their patrols. Since Omar is posing as a soldier, he won’t be able to sit still at the Silver Eel for long. Not without drawing suspicion.”

  “But we don’t know how long they’ll risk staying in town. Surely they’re counting on the bounty to entice someone to talk.” At the thought of Captain Omar finding us again, my back itches, remembering the bite of the whip. “You really think they’ll be pressured into leaving?”

  “I do.”

  “You thought we were safe in Padrin,” I tell him.

  He blows out a breath. “I thought we could trust Kendrick. Though I don’t fault him for what he did. He was thinking of his family. I cannot say I wouldn’t be tempted to do the same if I believed it was the only option. I suppose then you’re right to worry; the right incentive can turn any man into a liar.”

  I think of my motivation in agreeing to hunt down Cohen and turn him over to the guards. And shame sneaks up on me at the thought. Motivation is a dangerous tool.

  “Where should we camp?” I ask, needing a change of subject.”

  I glance up to where the trees have parte
d way to the stars and draw in a steadying breath. I haven’t been alone with him since the kiss by the well, and I’m not sure how to broach the subject of what happened between us, so I gesture for him to lead the way.

  We hike farther into the woods, where Siron meets us. I nearly jump when he passes; he’s an ink blot on black parchment. We travel until we can safely light a small campfire and no one will see it from the road.

  The forest floor is thick with soft ferns that will make a good bed pad. While I’m flattening some ferns for myself, Cohen drops down next to me and works on his own spot. After he’s done, he pulls a small loaf of bread from his satchel, breaks it into pieces, and hands one to me.

  As we eat, the silence grows barbs and claws, scratching away the easiness between us. It makes me long for the time when we used to be able to sit together in comfortable quietness.

  “Britt.” The soft sound of my name on his lips brings goose bumps to my flesh. “About last night . . .”

  I open my mouth. Close it. Open it, ready to give him an excuse for why it happened, but change my mind because, regardless of what I thought earlier, I very much want it to happen again.

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  Oh.

  Never have I been more grateful for the darkness and shadows that cover us, for it cloaks the humiliation burning across my face. It masks the swift pain that burns in my eyes. I press my lips together.

  I shouldn’t have kissed you. His words sweep any notions I might’ve had about him, or us, and push them to the furthest, unreachable corner of my mind.

  Foolish, foolish heart.

  “I’m glad you said something,” I say lightly, hoping to sound relieved, and praying he cannot hear the strain in my act. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. It was an exhausting day, and I wasn’t of sound mind.”

  “Right.” He doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “Yeah, I’m glad we talked too,” he finally adds. His confirmation cracks my chest and makes me feel like I’m shattering into a million misguided pieces.