Chapter
8

Cohen

FINN, LIRRA, AND I SPEND A WEEK ON BACK ROADS, crossing through the southern forest and quiet hill towns to avoid Shaerdanian hunters. Traveling with Lirra is nothing like tracking through the Evers with Britta. Lirra isn’t as soft-footed or aware of the forest. Twice today, she’s led her gelding right into dry brush that crackles loud enough to send the birds into the clouds.

When we reach the tree line before a stretch of tilled fields, Lirra’s horse finds a stream cutting through some tall grasses. The drop into the stream must take Lirra off-guard, because she lets out a squeal.

I turn a silencing glare on her. She huffs and, following my lead, slides off her horse.

“Thought you could teach me about stealth,” I whisper. “Are you trying to get us noticed? Or killed?”

She runs her fingers through her hair and straightens her skirt, smacking off flecks of mud. “The woods are your territory. Give me a town, and I’ll show you stealth. Besides, if you’re asking if I can kill you in three seconds, I’m happy to demonstrate.”

This girl has more coarse edges under her pretty appearance than anyone I’ve ever met. Well, except maybe Britta. Makes me long for my girl’s sharp, sweet mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, show me later.” I move behind a tree to take in the town ahead. It’s smaller than others we passed through. And by small, I mean blink too long and we would’ve passed it.

“There’s at least ten people out and about,” Lirra pipes up, pointing to the few houses closest to the town center.

Ignoring Lirra’s response, I turn back to Finn. “Stay with the horses. We won’t be long.”

His pinched face makes it clear he isn’t pleased, but I don’t care about his pleasure. I care about keeping him safe.

The smaller Shaerdanian towns usually have an inn that serves as a bed, breakfast, and brew house. On foot, we head past the homes to the one building with a faded wood sign out front: HOGS HEAD TAVERN.

Lirra nods at the two-story building. “There?” Her crooked expression matches the inn. Beneath a thatched roof, the plaster walls have a cockeyed lean.

“Looks safe enough.” I snort. “Doubt the place will hold up against someone slamming a door. Considering how we left the tavern in Rasimere Crossing, our stop here might raze the building.”

We enter the inn and cross through a sitting room to sidle up to a bar. The wooden counter runs the length of the room, separating the brew house from a few dining tables and scattered chairs.

A sweaty, red-faced woman tops off jars from a keg of ale, and then turns to face us. “Haven’t seen you two around ’ere.” Her gaze skips back and forth between us, narrowing. “Where ya from?”

Wasn’t expecting a cold reception this far south. Puts me on-guard.

Lirra curls into my side and exhales a squealy sigh like she just won a prize cobbler at the fair. I stare at her.

“Hullo. We’re from Celize. Just had our nuptials.” She lays her head against my arm.

The woman’s face brightens so fast, I would’ve thought Channeler magic was used.

“That so? Newlyweds! Lovely. Come in. Do ya need a room?”

I shake myself out of being momentarily stunned. “No, we don’t.”

Lirra shoots me a look before she starts rubbing my arm like I’m some damn pet cat. “Don’t mind him. He’s always gruff. That’s what I love about him. We thought we’d stop in for a drink before we head east.”

“Oh? You’re going such a long way for a wedding trip.”

“We’re headed to my aunt’s house. She lives near the border.”

The woman sets two cloudy glasses on the counter and fills them with tea-stained water. “Be careful and watch out for travelers. Probably don’t need to tell you that.” She winks at me. “You look like a strong buck. You can take care of yourself.”

“That’s me.” I pinch Lirra’s side. “Me and this gal. Gotta keep her out of trouble.”

A cough flies out of Lirra’s mouth. She quickly covers it with a worry-filled “Oh no! You haven’t heard of any dangers ahead, have you?” A seamless maneuver. So innocent and wide-eyed, I’d think she was harmless if I didn’t know her better. Lirra may not be the expert hunter and tracker Britta is, but she has a set of skills that are just as lethal. There’s a viper behind those big blue eyes.

“The Channelers Guild has called a meeting in Gilson,” the woman starts, but when the door swings open, screeching on its hinges, she smacks her lips together. “Finished with the woodpile?” She turns to the bearded fellow in the doorway. Against a shoulder he carries a mammoth of an ax with a head as large as a man’s. Wood chips dust the tunic where his belly presses the material outward.

“Who’re these lot?” The woodsman wraps his hand around the handle of the ax.

“They’re newlyweds, Amil. Nothing to get excited over.” Her smile wobbles a bit, and her hand, which has flattened on the bar, loses its color.

I straighten, instinctively pulling Lirra closer.

“Don’t tell me not to get excited. They look like strangers. We don’t do business with strangers. Not these days.”

“They’re harm—”

“Shut yer hole. Stop interrupting.” His coarse words turn the atmosphere wintry.

“I—I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, Amil.” She turns a flustered smile on us, but her arm jitters, belying the fact that he’s treated her this way before, and she’s afraid of what else he might have in store.

My hands are fists before I can even process my reaction. I should teach him a lesson for not properly caring for this woman. When my father was alive, he never treated my ma with anything less than adoration and respect. It sickens me that any man would lay a hand on his wife.

Lirra must notice the tension in my arm because she slides her hand over mine and tries to work my fingers open. Once she does that, she slips her palm against mine. It feels all wrong, wider than Britt’s and clammier. But it’s enough to keep me from reacting in a way that’ll draw the attention of the rest of the town.

“We don’t mean any harm.” Lirra’s voice is a smooth, lulling song. “We’ve been traveling so much, in a rush to get to my aunt’s home so I can introduce my new husband. And I was tired.” She lets out a long sigh, sagging against me. “This guy of mine doesn’t seem to need any rest.”

The woodsman huffs a bit of a chuckle, and it makes me want to punch him all over again. Of course he’d think she was implying something about the marriage bed.

“We can be on our way, though, if you’re busy . . .” Lirra leaves the comment on a questioning note.

The man stares at the two of us. I want to lay him flat for how he treated his wife and what he’s probably thinking of Lirra, but I remain by her side.

“Well, cheers to you,” he says, gaze still scrutinizing.

“Oh, yes!” His bartending wife lets out a little whoop, and then raises the cup she just poured and taps it three times on the bar.

Lirra yanks on my arm. It’s right as I’m looking down at her, meeting her slightly panicked expression, when I realize what I’m missing. The three taps of a glass is part of the nuptial celebration. Each time someone in the wedding party hits their cup thrice against the table, the bride and groom kiss.

Lirra’s blue eyes plead silently.

I drop my chin. Before I can think twice, Lirra’s lips are pressed to mine. They’re warm. Full. And when they open, extending the kiss, I go along with the charade, tasting spring water and guilt.

Our act must be convincing enough, because the woman claps, and then the man grunts approvingly.

We move away from each other, and though I want to look anywhere but at her, I keep my eyes on her and a fake smile plastered on my lips.

I break eye contact and turn back to the woodsman. “We do have to get back on the road. Only, your wife was kind enough to warn us about danger ahead. Have you heard or seen anything?”

“Actually, yeah. I just came in ’cause I saw smoke out north of here. With all the ravines that way, it’s a fool’s journey. Nobody’s traveling through the woods unless they’re hiding out.”

Lirra’s little squeak keeps me from speaking out. “We heard a little bit about girls being taken, but not much. I’m sure you know more than us.”

The man drops his ax at the door and comes closer. It doesn’t take much more coaxing from Lirra, the innocent, naive newlywed, to make him talk.

He reiterates all the rumors we’ve already heard but adds something more. “Judge Auberdeen’s offering fifteen hundred silver coins for the capture of the kidnappers. I figure I’m about to be a rich man.”

I watch him slug back a glass of ale, spill a second one on his wife’s countertop, and then snap at her to get him dinner. The man’s disgusting. He’s also wrong. If anyone’s going to catch the men in the north woods, it’ll be me.

Lirra cinches up tight to me. “Come on, love, we should go before dark.”

I straighten my spine, fighting the urge to wriggle out of her grip, and nod. I give my thanks to the barwoman and her poor excuse for a husband. Then we exit the inn and head for the woods.

Finn has the horses watered when we return. I start to explain what happened at the inn, when Finn cuts me off. “Explain later. There’s no time.”

He points to the space between the trees where we have a clear view of the inn. The woodsman we just spoke with has saddled up his horse and is galloping toward the east side of town. He must be gathering his men. Together they won’t have the stealth to sneak up on anyone in the woods. If the smoke he spoke about belongs to the kidnappers’ camp, we’ll have only one chance to sneak up on them. Finn, Lirra, and I have to reach the smoke before the woodsman does.