Chapter
38

Cohen

“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT NEART?” Leif comes into my room after a sleepless night. Thoughts of the castle under siege, Britta and Finn at risk, have turned my guts to ribbons.

“We need to get out of here as soon as possible.” I push myself to sit up. Agony bursts through my arms. Bloody useless arms.

“And how are you going to do that?” Leif crosses his arms. I want to punch the smart look right off his face.

“We need to find out what happened.”

“I can ride out today,” he says. “I just . . . if what they’re saying is true, I don’t want to charge into Neart alone. It’d be smarter to wait and see what the Guild can do for Captain Omar.”

If it were me, I’d leave this instant, no matter the danger that lies ahead. I tell him this.

“Yeah, well, Britta’s always saying you get yourself into unnecessary trouble. You’re too reckless.”

Mention of Britta hits me in the chest.

“Look, I can see you’re worried for her.” Understatement. “I’m worried too. But she’s a survivor. Let the Guild women heal Omar. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

I don’t like that we’re not moving on quicker. But I’m not in shape to push my will on this matter.

Leif’s right about one thing. Britta is a survivor.

When Katallia said the Guild would be coming to the house to help Captain Omar, I imagined she meant more than three women. They arrive one at a time, their arrivals spaced out, no doubt, for precaution.

The first is a petite slip of a woman, less threatening than a field rabbit. She flits into the room, bringing in a big blast of winter air before she shuts the door.

“Torima, an expert water Channeler,” Katallia says, introducing her.

A wide smile pushes Torima’s sun-weathered skin into lines that frame her mouth. Like Katallia, the sandy-haired woman seems a few years younger than my mother.

The second is Yasmin. Wise eyes and skin like terra cotta. Makes me think of the great cedars that hunker in Shaerdan’s dry lands, refuges from the blazing heat. “A gifted earth Channeler,” Katallia says of the older woman.

An hour after the first two show up, a third enters the home. No knock beforehand. Her skin is as dark as night. Her eyes shrewd and cold as flint. Snow drifts inside on her heels, but melts before it touches her skin.

“Seeva, welcome.” Katallia rushes to greet her, nearly turning over the table where I’ve been biding the time by playing cards with Leif and Lirra. Lirra is on her feet in a heartbeat, straightening her tunic.

“Seeva Soliel, the fire Channeler,” Katallia says, with a touch of reverence.

This must be the mother of Rhea, the girl we saved from Lord Conklin and delivered to Jacinda.

The other women, who’ve gone off into other parts of the home, return. Yasmin first. She greets the women nonverbally and takes a seat beside me. Torima follows, flitting to embrace the newcomer.

“Thank you for coming,” Lirra says. “I fear the captain will not make it another night.”

Seeva’s mouth pinches. “Then perhaps its best that he dies.”

I sit up, on the defense. “What’s this about?” My gaze kicks from the fire Channeler to Katallia. “I thought you said they’d help.” Why are we still waiting at this home if they’re not going to assist? We should be on our way to Brentyn.

“Cohen,” Leif warns.

Seeva’s gaze hones in on me. “Ah, you must be the honored bounty hunter.” Her assessment drips with disdain, turning my usually respected title into an insult. “Perhaps you think we’ll cower to you because you know what we are? That we’ll jump to your aid?”

“Not what I said,” I argue.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t talk,” Leif says out of the corner of his mouth, always acting the part of the tamed bear.

Lirra’s fingers dig into my arm. “Don’t be a fool.”

I scoot away from her. Jacinda must not have told this woman who saved her daughter. I doubt she’d be talking to us like this if she knew. “Look, I agreed to keep all of your secrets—”

“The girl’s right—you are a fool,” Seeva sneers at me, her hand rising in front of her. A ball of fire hovers above her palm. “You’re not helping us, hunter. We could destroy you and your broken captain,” she snaps, and the flame zips out, “like that. You’ve no leg to stand on. Not when Malam’s castle has been taken and your king is probably dead.”

Her words give me pause. What does she know of King Aodren? I stand, frustration rolling off me like steam. “I’ve helped you plenty.”

Before I can finish, Katallia steps between us, arms raised. “We’ve agreed to not make rash judgments. Let us help the captain, and then we’ll discuss what you can do for us.”

Despite last night’s temperature drop, the room grows warm from all the bodies and the fire. I fan myself while the ladies chat.

“Let me remind you that, last we met, we discussed an alliance.” Katallia turns to Seeva. “There is no one better to have supporting our plight than the captain of the guard and the king’s bounty hunter. Especially if the country is in turmoil.”

The fire Channeler’s eyes flick to me. Sweat beads at my temples.

“They’ve been our enemy for eighteen years,” Seeva says. “I don’t trust a single man from Malam.”

“The hunter is a sympathizer. I can see he respects our magic. Perhaps an alliance with him would be beneficial.” This comes from Yasmin. Finally a voice of reason.

I move my tunic away from my body and start to fan myself harder. My ribs twinge, complaining at the movement, but it’s too hot to stop. Lirra shoots me a look that says, Sit still, idiot.

“Why haven’t you told her we saved her daughter?” I whisper.

“I haven’t had the time. Be patient. Stop squirming.”

Easy for her to say. Perspiration pools on my upper lip.

“. . . we will heal him. It is our way. Do good, never harm,” Yasmin is saying, only the heat is too much. I wipe the sweat off my brow and neck. Consider running outside into the snow that piled up from last night’s storm.

“Cohen, what are you—” Lirra jumps up to stand in front of me. Her arms lift and a breeze swirls around me, taking the edge off the heat.

“Seeva.” Katallia’s tone scolds. “Cease. You won’t have enough energy for the healing.”

Instantly, the heat disappears. I turn to Seeva, anger brimming as my body cools. She just did something to my body temperature.

“Oh, Seev.” Torima’s singsong voice sounds more like she’s talking to a small child instead of a woman who just tried to boil my insides. “We’re here to assist. Come, let’s find the captain before you use up all your energy on the hunter.”

“We can help you, or we can hurt you. Remember that” is all the fire Channeler says before exiting the room. No apology for trying to turn me into a loaf of bread. Nothing.

“Look, I don’t appreciate you trying to bake me,” I yell after her, furious. “I saved your daughter. A little gratitude would be nice.”

Seeva appears in the doorway. “You saved Rhea?” Her voice is a sliver of what it was before.

I nod.

I don’t need to speak because Lirra launches into a rapid explanation of what happened in Shaerdan, and how Rhea was dropped off at Jacinda’s home. While Lirra talks, the muscles in Seeva’s face shift to something softer. Kinder.

“For that, I am grateful,” Seeva says, once the story is concluded, her tone void of ire. “I will help your captain. And, as you’ve so nicely put it, stop trying to bake you.”

Seeva turns and disappears. She doesn’t offer an apology, but I don’t expect one. I’m no stranger to pride, having buckets of my own.

Lirra gets up, and when she returns, she has a waterskin. “Drink this; you’ll need to replenish yourself.”

Leif stands. “Guess you learned your lesson.” He chuckles, shakes his head, and follows the women to Omar’s room.

If my body wasn’t broken, I’d punch him.

But Leif’s right. Lesson learned. I won’t underestimate Seeva’s power or that of any of the women in the Guild again. I reach Omar’s room and squeeze in alongside Leif, Lirra, and the Channelers.

The women gather around the bed, and each one touches Omar in a different place. Katallia’s palm covers the man’s mouth, Yasmin’s fingers touch Omar’s collarbone, Torima’s hand rests below his navel, and Seeva’s holds his head.

Their heads dip, except for Seeva, whose mouth opens as she looks toward the ceiling. “Gods of old, grant us the energy to give this man, that he might walk again in this world.”

Then her head bows and the women begin a collective chant.

Never having witnessed anything like this, I stand there, mesmerized.

A cough breaks their words. The women step back, and Omar hacks again. His eyes crack open. He looks as hazed as a tavern rat, but it’s one of the best looks I’ve seen on him in a while.

Relief has me rushing forward, reaching for the man’s arm with my good one, verifying he’s alive even though his skin burns under my touch. “Thought we were going to lose you.”

Leif is slack-jawed. “Praise the gods, you’re going to live.”

Omar takes a labored breath. “Not . . . so . . . sure . . . yet.”

“He’ll need a couple more days.” Katallia sounds drained. “We each used our gifts. Pushed air in and out of his lungs and into his blood. Moved his blood faster through his body. Encouraged the bone to re-knit, and raised his body temperature to fight the infection.”

“We don’t have a couple more days,” I say. “We have to get to Brentyn.”

She taps Omar’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but he needs time. While we can encourage his body to make those changes, we don’t have the energy to replenish what he’s lost.”

“Like a Spiriter would?” When Britta healed me, it was instant. Figured their healing would be the same for Omar.

“You know about Spiriters?”

Behind Katallia, all eyes of the others shift to me.

“Well, yeah. Been tracking one for the last six weeks before this mess.”

“You’ve been hunting Channelers?” Seeva steps forward.

I move back. No shame in that. “Hold on, we’re after the same person. You want the people who are kidnapping your girls. I’m pretty sure one of those people is a woman who goes by the name Phelia. She’s a Spiriter who was working for the high lord of Malam to control the king.”

Seeva’s eyes narrow to slits. “You lie.”

“It’s true. Ask the captain. There was an attack on King Aodren a couple of weeks back by the very same Spiriter. The king saw girls with her at the time of the attack. And before that, Phelia bound the king’s energy to her own so she could control him.”

“How do you know these things, hunter? Did she tell you?”

While I might tell Aodren’s secret, I won’t tell Britta’s. And I know the captain won’t either, because he promised. “A woman named Enat told me about the Spiriter who put the king under a Channeler bind. I later discovered it was Phelia.”

Murmurs move through the women. They’ve heard of Enat.

“If she is indeed part of the group taking our young, then she’ll be dealt with by the Guild,” Seeva says, dismissing the conversation. “For now, you must swear an oath to us. As agreed, we’ve saved your captain and spared your lives. But when we move forward to overturn the Purge Proclamation, we want your support.

“Do you swear an oath?” Seeva takes in each of us. The wind cries through the home’s cracks. A flurry of snow batters the window.

Omar is the first to speak. “We do.”

“We do,” I repeat. I think of Britta in that moment, and what this may mean for her. The last thing I want is to draw more negative attention in her direction. But I hope like hell she can see I’m doing this to bridge the gap between our two worlds.