Chapter
49

Cohen

AODREN’S BEWILDERED GAZE BOUNCES FROM me to Britta to the door where the Channelers exited. I don’t think he heard them explain that she received enough energy from him and now they both need to rest. His head drops back to the side of the bed, and his arm, marked in Britta’s blood, flops to his side.

While it’s a struggle not to be jealous of the man, I couldn’t be more grateful.

His head bobs a few more times. He mumbles Britta’s name. I try to tell him twice that Britta is alive, but he’s too incoherent. I suggest he go with Lirra to find a bed to sleep in. She’ll let him know the good news. Seeva mentioned that he would be giving up at least half of his energy. Which would in turn mean the man would need to sleep for days.

When Lirra walks to his side of the bed, Aodren’s arms flex, like he’s struggling to hold himself together. She gently guides him to the door, and then nearly collapses as his head falls against her shoulder. Once they’re gone, Britta and I are alone in the room.

The last time we were alone, I ended our relationship. What a fool I was.

I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. But when she wakes up, I’m determined to be the first person she sees.

As night draws closer, there are fewer scrapes and bangs of repair work on the cabin. The Guild members have put Leif to work to keep his mind off Omar’s death. We are all affected by the captain’s passing, but I don’t blame Leif. No one holds Omar’s death against him.

Leif doesn’t see it the same, however. I hope someday he’ll forgive himself.

Behind the closed bedroom door, I stay at Britta’s side. A thousand promises to the gods have passed my lips as I beg them to spare her.

She hasn’t moved a knuckle since the Channelers left. As when she risked her life to save mine and then the king’s, she lies, motionless, almost colorless. This time, however, she’s covered in her own blood.

When my head starts to bob and my lids dip, I allow myself rest, hunched in the chair beside her bed. Though I’ve never been a churchgoer, I say a prayer—that I won’t have another grave to dig in the morning.

I wake a dozen times in the night, full of aching muscles and creaky bones.

There is no change the next day.

Nor the day after.

The Guild women have come in to dress her wounds; wipe her face, arms, and legs; and drizzle Channeler concoctions over her lips. They’ve brought me bowls of pottage and water.On the third day, King Aodren comes to the room. I don’t know the extent of the man’s feeling for Britta, however, I took note of the many times he sought her out the morning before the attack. Like his eyes were homing pigeons and she was home.

His sallow skin takes a greenish-yellow tint under the lantern light. He moves like his bones are made of glass. The cost of returning Britta’s energy is apparent. He could pass for someone afflicted with the ague.

“You don’t look so good,” I tell him.

“I was about to tell you the same.”

I rake a hand through my unkempt beard and into my hair, which could use three solid washings. A quarter smile cracks my lips. “I’ve seen better weeks.”

The king leans against the wall and gazes out the window at the gray morning. “I’ve come to ask you to leave for Brentyn.”

My spine groans as I sit straight.

“I’ve received word back from Lord Freil. He has nearly one hundred men armed and ready to march.”

I stare at Britta and wonder if I’ll ever see her smile or smirk or glare at me again. I scrub my eyes and turn to face the king. “You need a commander.”

“Yes. I need you and Leif to take this army with me, and together we’ll march on Brentyn. I don’t believe we’ll meet with much resistance. Now that the rebels’ leaders have been killed, I suspect most will accept a deal. If they lay down their arms and accept defeat, they may live out their lives beyond the borders of Malam.”

“And if there’s strong resistance?” I ask, though it’s unlikely. The head’s been cut off the beast.

“The sons of two lords from the northern borders who were killed during the castle attack have pledged their loyalty to me. Should more men be needed, we can call on another hundred and fifty from the northern fiefs.”

At my hesitation, the king says, “The Guild said it might be weeks if not longer before Britta can travel.”

Though the thought of leaving her drives me mad, restoring harmony in the land will give Britta a home to return to. And perhaps she’ll have the freedom to live her life without fear of who she is.

“When do we leave?”

His eyes flick to her sleeping form and back to me, an apology written in the lines around them. “Immediately.”

My fingers find Britta’s, covering her hand as if I might secret away a prized possession. I nod, accepting my role to come in ending this dark time in our countries’ histories. “My heart, my blood, my life for Malam.”

Aodren exits, giving me a few moments alone. There’s a huge part of me that wants to tell him no. I want to stay by her side until she wakes. But I’ve made peace with the fact that I have a tendency to make choices that suffocate Britta. That’s something I’m not going to do anymore. My staying by her side might not make her feel like I’m trying to govern her. But it might. I have faith that whatever the king did for Britta will heal her. And once she’s on the mend, I want her to have the space and freedom to finish deciding what she wants in this life.

I drop a kiss to Britta’s forehead and then to the pale curves of her lips. “Come back to me, Dove.” My whisper washes over her mouth.

I hold for a moment, praying a miracle will happen, hoping for some sort of change that’ll confirm she’ll make it. That this isn’t our final goodbye. But nothing happens. Pain daggers through my heart as I turn and walk out the door.

Before leaving, I go to Finn’s side. The kid’s mottled face and weakened body threaten to break what’s left of my weak heart. I softly chuck his shoulder and tell him I love him. Then after bidding goodbye to Lirra, the Guild, and the Channeler girls, we travel to the camp outside Brentyn. There, King Aodren meets with the commander of Lord Freil’s soldiers. We spend two days organizing the men. On the third we march.

It takes four days for our army to seize control of Lord Jamis’s men. Many of them stand down as soon as their leader’s death is announced. Those who resist are subdued with little fighting.

Despite their betrayal, King Aodren offers a merciful punishment. The rebels are exiled from Malam. They may live out their lives in the Akaria Desert or north in the wastelands of Kolontia. But never again may they set foot in Malam.

In my opinion, King Aodren’s mercy is more than most of the rebels deserved. In the few days Jamis occupied Brentyn, the havoc he caused led to hundreds of deaths. The royal city, once called the heart of Malam, isn’t the same. Death stains the streets.

Time moves quickly over the next week as we see to the many grieving families.

With the rebels gone, we have the task of washing blood off the streets and wiping it from Castle Neart’s Great Hall. Graves are dug and filled. Cobblestones are scrubbed clean.

The hardest part about returning to Castle Neart, however, is finding the young girls who have been imprisoned in the dungeon cells. Most are timid mice, shying away from our lanterns. It takes soft words and patience to coax them from the pit of the castle. The king orders the suites to be set up as additional healing rooms for the girls who have suffered from exposure and lack of food. Leif helps me gather blankets and clothing and hot meals. The work is humbling to me, but more so, it’s good for him. Every girl he helps lifts his spirit a little more.

The work is endless. So much so that Finn and Lirra’s arrival at Castle Neart three weeks after I left Britta comes as a shock.

“They’ve come to help return all the Channeler girls to their homes,” King Aodren explains inside his private study. He stands beside his absurdly large desk. His father must’ve had a thing for flashy furniture. “You are more familiar with Shaerdan than any of my men. I am not asking that you personally escort all the girls safely home, but I do need you to organize their return.”

I cross my arms, hiding the fists of my hands under my biceps, calculating how long I’ll be gone.

“Split the girls into groups based on where they’re from. Then assign a few men to each group of girls. I want to ensure their safety.”

He goes on to talk about restitution. I consider his orders, willing back my frustration. Returning the girls means I’ll be on the road another few weeks. However, if I’m in charge, I can decide which region to go to first. The Channelers heading to the southeast corner of Shaerdan sound like the perfect group to chaperone home.

“Questions?” The king drops into the seat on the other side of the desk.

I shake my head, a smile forming inside. “None at all.”

Before leaving Brentyn, Finn takes me and Lirra to Hagan’s home, where Gillian has been staying. Finn originally left her because she was too weak and broken to move. When rebel guards came to search Hagan’s home, Finn covered Gillian with boxes and blankets in the attic space. Then he distracted the men by riding away on Britta’s horse. Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far. Finn was captured a quarter league from Hagan’s home.

The door opens, and Gillian greets us through a mess of her tears. “Finn! Cohen! Lirra!” She wraps us in her arms, attempting an awkward jumbled group hug.

I untangle myself from the others and straighten my tunic.

“Let’s not do that again.” Lirra steps back.

Gillian waves a dismissing hand at her. “Get in here.”

She demands we tell her everything. But as I cover all that transpired in the last couple of weeks, Gillian’s hand lifts to her chest, clutching her dress until I finish. Moisture pools in the edges of her eyes.

“I want to go to Britta. See how she’s doing.” Gillian stares out the window.

Lirra crosses to the woman and cautiously lowers a hand to Gillian’s shoulder. “She’s in the best hands right now. Give her more time to recover.”

Time. Time is torture when you’re away from the one you love.

I haven’t heard much from the Channelers Guild since the king and I returned to Malam. Any mention of her progress has been limited to a handful of promising words. Healing slowly. A bit better today. Color returning.

Gillian’s pinched expression tells me she doesn’t want to stay in Hagan’s home any more than I want to prolong my time away from Britta. But she agrees when Lirra stresses the need for recovery time. With a grave nod, Gillian promises to visit Leif and keep an eye on Britta’s cottage until she hears word that Britta is well enough to receive visitors.

Later that morning, Finn, Lirra, and I leave for the southeastern region of Shaerdan. Joined by a couple of royal guards, we escort two carriages of Channeler girls. The carriages squelch through the half-melted patches of snow and mud on the road that winds toward Brentyn. Signs of spring, shoots of new plants and buds on branches, peek through winter’s crust.

The girls huddle in the confines of the carriage. But as we gain distance from Castle Neart, eyes exchange glances, small smiles sneak out, and sparks of hope crack through wary expressions.

As we roll over the town’s cobblestones, people gather in the market like any other day, chattering the latest gossip. They gather around the signs posted throughout the royal city. It’s a royal decree—the Purge has ended.

Lirra motions for the carriage to stop so we can read the parchment.

A kingdom ruled by fear is destined to fall. Channelers are an integral thread in the weave of our nation and our nation’s history. The eradication of Channelers will forever be known as our country’s greatest and gravest sin. I hereby wholeheartedly abolish the Purge Proclamation . . .

“About time,” Lirra mutters.

She steps out of the carriage and I follow behind, wanting to get a little closer to the posting to finish reading the decree.

All rights and privileges given to other citizens of Malam shall be returned to Channelers. King Aodren demands those affected by the Purge be treated with respect and equality, lands returned to those who were once stripped of their property, and restitution made for the lives lost. I don’t know how a country could ever fully repay the depth of loss, but the decree is a strong start. King Aodren’s apology is followed by an issue that any person caught harming a Channeler will be placed in the pillory.

“Wonder how that’ll affect you.” Lirra taps her chin.

“What do you mean?” Finn pops up beside her, Siron close behind him.

“Just that change doesn’t come about so quick.” She snaps her fingers. “Some people are going to resist.”

True. Some will fight. Change often comes on the tail end of pain and tears. But this country has been bleeding for change for the last decade. Some will resist the decree, but my guess is most will embrace it.

“We better get going if we’re planning to be back for this.” Finn points to the bottom of the post.

The decree calls for a gathering of the lords. In three weeks’ time, all nobility are called to a court meeting, in which King Aodren will introduce his newly formed inner council and discuss implementation of the new laws in Malam.

“Aye.” I reach for Siron, giving my place in the carriage to Finn. “Let’s get going.”

The air might still carry a bitter bite, but I can see spring trying to edge its way in. Change is happening all around us.

I never imagined this day would come so soon, when rights and freedom would be returned to Channelers. Filled with hope for Britta and the future, I urge Siron into a gallop to lead the girls home.