Chapter
42

Britta

NO ONE TALKS.

Not even after I dress and saddle up behind Cohen.

Not the entire time Siron carries us into Tahr.

Rigid and welcoming as iron armor, Cohen has effectively shut me out. I should explain that we were combating winter exposure and frostbite. The wind was relentless. I thought the king might freeze to death.

I hate the way Cohen reacted without asking questions. Now, anger has me tongue-tied.

The horses break from the trees. Below, drifts of white span the valley from mountain to mountain. I allow myself to glance back at Aodren, who gives me an apologetic smile.

Everything I’ve been holding back for days presses on me—the pain and horror of so many deaths, the struggle to escape, and now this. The exhaustion whispers at me to drop my head against Cohen’s back, to wrap my arms around him and find comfort. But I’m not that girl. I don’t need an arm around the shoulders, or a We’ll get through this.

We ride up to a country cottage that is easily three times the size of mine. Icicles hang under the lantern-lit windows, giving this home a cozy, welcoming touch.

I dismount and remain beside Siron. I cannot walk away from Cohen without explaining. Even though I’m upset, it would be foolish to let him continue to misunderstand what he saw this morning. “Two days ago Aodren fell into the river,” I explain, words so hushed I only know he heard them because he looks at me. Finally. “He would’ve died from the chill. And last night, he still hadn’t regained full warmth. The wind was brutal. We had to fight the cold.”

The hardness in Cohen’s hazel eyes breaks with concern.

Even I can recognize the bit in my explanation that might be concerning. The first night is justified. The second? Should we have tried harder to get to town? Should we have braved the cold without sharing body heat?

I wait for Cohen’s word. Anything to let me know where we go from here.

There’s a glimpse of pain, and then nothing. Nothing to stave off the shock that’s invaded my bones.

“If you head inside, Lirra will get you something warm to wear,” he says, and then leaves, guiding Siron to the stable.

I stand there, a little defiant, a lot numb, and steeped in anger. Despite the part in my explanation that could be argued unnecessary, anger floods the empty spaces inside. Anger has me calling out his name. “Cohen. You left me. You made your choice.”

He whips around. Breath puffs like steam from his nostrils. “I had to go.”

My cutting look stops him.

“Of course I didn’t want you to come with me. I was worried for you. I always am. If you’re found out to be a Spiriter, you’ll be killed.” He rubs his fists against his eyes. “I live in constant fear that you’ll be accused. I live in fear that being near me will draw attention to you.”

“You can’t protect me from everything.”

He hangs his head. “I know that.”

“I cannot change that I’m a Channeler.”

“I don’t want you to change. I love who you are. It’s just that with me, the king’s bounty hunter, you’ll always be in the public’s eye. Can’t you see that I’m a threat to you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Instead you left me behind at the castle. And I—I watched a hundred men and women die . . .” This comes out strangled, my thoughts fishtailing.

His hands reach for my shoulders, and I wince. Cohen’s expression shifts to instant concern as he takes in the stain on my sleeve. “You’re hurt. What happened?”

“We were chased through the woods after we left Hagan’s home. One landed an arrow.”

He scrubs his colorless face with his hands. “I cannot believe I didn’t notice earlier. Gods, I’m sorry, Britt.”

I want to curl into his chest, let the warmth of his words bathe me, but there are still things to share.

“Where’s Finn?” The worry in his voice strips away the rest of his hardened exterior.

“He’s hiding at a healer’s home in Brentyn with Gillian. Gillian couldn’t travel in her condition. Your brother stayed with her.”

His touch, when it returns to my injured arm, is gentle. Calming. “Dove, I’m sorry. I had no idea about all that you went through. I want to be here for you, however you need. This morning wasn’t . . . I was . . .” He rubs his cheek, his finger pausing over the scar. “Seeing you two together was . . .” He lets out a joyless laugh. “Seeds, I cannot get a word out. I’m trying to say that after the last few days, it wasn’t how I envisioned our reunion. I’m a jealous bludger.”

I duck my chin to hide my flattered smile.

Cohen’s arms gingerly wrap around me, his soft lips press to my forehead, and his signature scent, pine trees and cotton, fills my nostrils. He murmurs a quiet apology against my temple, and then the space beside my ear, and then into the crook of my neck. I burrow into his heat, wishing this moment could last. His embrace has such calming power.

“Cohen, there’s something I have to tell you.”

He leans back to see my face. One side of his grin hitches up. “That you forgive me? I do trust you, Britta. I trust you more than anyone in this world. I know you’re strong and capable. I just hate that I could be a danger to you. I fear losing you—that’s why I try so hard to keep you safe.”

I wilt a little. His talk of trust bathes me in remorse. Why didn’t I talk to him about the king after I woke? Or when Cohen returned from hunting Phelia? There have been so many opportunities, and I ignored them all. What I have to tell him really isn’t that big. It doesn’t affect him. It’s silly that I kept it a secret.

“Tell me, Dove.” He slides a wayward hair around my ear.

“After the mountain cat attack, when I healed you, something happened.” I lean back, giving him space. “At the time, I didn’t know. It wasn’t until you came back that I realized we had this”—my hands fumble awkwardly between us, a nervous gesture I haven’t used when speaking to Cohen in years—“connection.”

His sable brows arc up. “What do you mean by connection?”

“I started to notice strange things on our way to Enat’s home. Like when you were in danger, I could tell. And when you were nearby, even before I could see you, I knew you were there. It felt like an invisible rope tied us together. It would tug on me when you came near.”

His lips part and he gives a slow nod of understanding. “I thought we were in tune to one another. Didn’t realize it was something else.” He frowns. “So when you healed me, you left some of your Channeler magic behind? But you didn’t realize what happened until this fall, when you hunted me down?” He smirks at the memory.

I nod. “I don’t know how it works. Something about having my energy made it so.”

“You say that like it’s in the past.”

I fist my hands, stopping them from moving. “It is. We aren’t connected anymore.”

A frown. “Oh. I don’t feel differently.”

“I know. It was something only I felt. The thing is, when I healed the king, I somehow broke our connection . . .” My mouth is drier than year-old jerky. I clear my throat. “. . . and created a new one with him.”

“With the king?”

“Yes.”

He rubs his forehead, hiding his eyes. “Huh, interesting.”

“That’s not all. The new bond with Aodren is different than ours was.”

“In what way?” He glances up and cants his head slightly to the side.

“It’s stronger.” I look at the space between us. “He can feel the connection. He notices when I’m near. Or when I’m in a heightened emotional state.”

Cohen’s fresh-punched expression makes my chest ache. “He can feel your emotions?”

“Not all, just peak emotions. Like when I was captured at the castle with Finn. I was panicked and afraid for our lives. He sensed that.”

His boot pushes through the snow. “You’re saying he felt you were in danger and came back for you?” The blow of his words breaks me. I don’t want to keep hurting him.

“He risked his life to save ours.”

“I—I . . .” He coughs out a broken laugh. Hands go to his hips. He paces away, kicking up snow as he goes.

“Cohen, say something.”

He stares up at the sky, letting out a breath like a dragon blowing steam. His shoulders sink. “I don’t know what to say, Britt.”