Chapter
51

Britta

WALKING INTO THE GREAT HALL, my legs are about as useful as pillars of dust. The memories of the Winter Feast come crashing back, nearly knocking me over. If it weren’t for Seeva, Torima, and Katallia at my side, I might turn back and head straight for my cottage. It’s been months since I’ve been home.

In the time that’s passed, my body has healed and I’ve learned even more about Channeling. I could live the rest of my life learning something new every day, and still not have enough time to grasp all the possibilities and good I could do with my gift. Though every now and then I feel the curl of darkness wind through my veins, I’ve vowed to use my Channeler magic only for good. I am not Phelia, nor will I ever be like her. I’ll be stronger, kinder, better.

The herald announces our arrival. “Lady Britta Flannery, Miss Torima Lolear of the Channelers Guild, Miss Katallia Barrett of the Channelers Guild, and Miss Seeva Soliel of the Channelers Guild.”

All eyes in the room land on us. A hush falls over the nobility—many new faces mixed in with a handful of familiar ones.

Seeva gently pushes my back. “Go on,” she whispers out of the corner of her mouth. “Be brave.”

As an official member of the Guild, I’m here today as a noblewoman, presenting these women to the kingdom. Across the room, just as on the night of the feast, Aodren sits at the head of the table in his father’s atrocity of a throne. His smile quirks as we walk down the stairs into the Great Hall.

No longer am I bound to Aodren by my Channeler magic. Through the rune, he was able to return my energy that lived within him. There’s nothing left to inform him of my presence. It’s our friendship that connects us. But it’s a struggle to look straight at Aodren when my eyes desperately want to seek out Cohen. I thought he’d be seated at the head of the room with the others in Aodren’s inner circle. Only, he’s not there.

It makes my steps into the room a little harder to take. But I continue on. When we reach the three stairs that lead up to Aodren’s throne, we lower ourselves into curtsies, our dresses draping on the floor, mine a puddle of palest blue.

Katallia had this dress made to resemble Cohen’s dress. It’s the same color and cut the same way. I’d hoped when Cohen saw me he’d . . . actually, I don’t know what I’d hoped. I’ve had a month since last seeing him to think about us. To ponder our connection and whether or not it influenced our relationship. It took over a month for my body to completely heal. In the time we’ve been apart, I’ve grown more certain that regardless of the connections I’ve had, and the current lack thereof, I love him. I love his desire to do what’s right. I love his recklessness. I even love his protective nature.

I wanted to tell him these things face-to-face. That’s why I waited.

I also hoped he’d be here to see me embrace who I am. It’s taken all this time apart for me to accept that being a Channeler is integral to who I am. And it’s not something I ever want to hide again.

My smile slumps, but I hitch it higher. Today I serve a great purpose. One that feels surreal and at the same time perfectly right. “Your Royal Highness, may I present my fellow Channelers, the women of the Guild.”

A few murmurs echo through the room. Under the lantern glow that paints the surrounding columns in golden hues, a handful of lords and ladies sit stiffly in their seats, whispering behind gloved hands.

I notice them, and just as quickly dismiss their chilling reception. Many people now understand for the first time that I am a Channeler. Not everyone is bound to be open to the idea of Channelers in Malam. It’ll take time. But thanks to the decree, we’re not hiding and living in fear. Even so, every now and then the temptation to be afraid comes, but I tamp it down. I have as much right to be here as these people. After all, I am Saul Flannery’s daughter.

Aodren asks us to rise. He then stands and bows in return to us. “Your presence here is always welcome. We are honored by your service to the kingdom.”

Broken applause can be heard throughout the Great Hall. I jerk in surprise, shocked that anyone would be pleased. At least half the room isn’t showing any form of approval, but I cannot ignore the half that is. Having been a pariah for so long, the support of anyone in the nobility is overwhelming.

Reading my confusion, Aodren gestures to me once more and a few more claps are added to the crowd’s cheer. My heart expands. Tears of wonder blur my sight. I blink them away so as not to embarrass myself.

Aodren walks down the steps and extends his hand to Seeva. She takes it and follows him up the stairs, where he gestures for her to take a seat beside the other nobility at the head table. “May I present Miss Seeva Soliel, Channeler ambassador from Shaerdan, and newest member of my Inner Advisory Circle.”

The nobles’ focus shifts to Seeva, and I exhale in relief—a breath it seems like I’ve been holding all my life.

As we’re ushered to our seats, I catch a glimpse of a decorated guard beyond one of the pillars. He’s standing inside the castle’s hallway, ribbons adorning his royal coat. The sight of his sable hair and golden skin set fire to my veins.

Cohen.

He’s in the exact spot we said goodbye, last time we were in the castle.

Even though we no longer share a bond, every particle of me yearns to go to him. To touch him and breathe him in and put my arms around him. To tell him I know exactly who I want.

But Aodren begins talking, and now that I’m nobility, I have to show some decorum.

It’s late in the afternoon when the nobles’ lunch is over. The moment we finish, I’m on my feet and cutting across the hall to the passage where I last saw Cohen.

But when I get there, he’s already left.

I take the road along the Evers that leads to my cottage.

Drained from a day spent with the nobility—a day in which I’ve conversed with more people than in the rest of my life altogether—I want nothing more than to curl up in Papa’s chair beside a warm fire and listen to the silence of the woods from my cottage.

I sent word to Gillian that I’ve returned, so I’ve no doubt she’ll come visit later. I considered sending Cohen a letter as well, but I didn’t know where he’s living. I assumed he was in the guards’ quarters. Only, when I inquired about where Cohen is staying, Leif shook his head and shrugged.

On the way home, the sun peeks from the clouds. Now that I’ve come down from the high of the nobles’ lukewarm reception, the gnawing ache of missing Cohen intensifies. I really hoped for a chance to talk with him. Despite the afternoon light, sadness has a way of burrowing under the skin and turning even the brightest day bleak.

When my cottage comes into view, I notice smoke wafting from the chimney. Gillian must’ve made it here before me.

Happy to see her, I force a smile over my frown. I ride Snowfire into the yard and dismount. After leading her into the stable, I remove my gear and take a few minutes to brush her down. Her water’s already been topped off. Another Gillian surprise, perhaps?

I rush out of the stable to thank her for doing so much, when I notice that Papa’s cottage has never looked so good. New paint, mended roof, pruned trees. When did she have the time or energy—or the know-how—to do all this?

Following the whack, whack, whack of an ax, I walk around the back of my cottage.

The sight of Cohen—coat off, tunic stained with sweat, arm muscles flexing with each strike—swipes my breath.

His swings are fluid and precise. Like chopping wood is a dance instead of a chore. I could watch him do this, watch the way his body moves, for days. The familiarity I’ve missed so much beats through me.

I don’t speak, so it takes a half-dozen logs before Cohen glances up and notices my presence. He slams the ax into the wood and leaves it. Sliding his forearm across his brow, he clears the perspiration from his eyes and studies me.

Seeds, I want him to talk, to say my name, to say anything. The last time we were together was punctuated with awkwardness. I’d just told Aodren that I could never love him the way I love Cohen. This man before me is my best friend, my support, my champion. And while he might sometimes be stubborn and mulish, so am I.

“Hi,” I say at the same time he talks. Thankfully it comes out clearly despite my club of a heart banging on my ribs.

“I didn’t realize you were coming home so soon.” He slides a handkerchief from his pocket and mops his brow. Lips sucked between teeth, he gazes at my cottage before refocusing on me. “I—I’m sorry you found me here. I was . . . I mean—” He sighs.

I’ve never seen Cohen this flustered in my life. It’s endearing and adorable.

Finally he gets the words out. “I saw you were back, and I wanted to have the place ready for you.”

The banging inside my chest stops. Inside it feels like my heart’s suddenly about to burst.

“Cohen.” I walk forward. “You didn’t have to do any of this. But I’m grateful. Thank you so much.”

He hangs his head and murmurs something that sounds like “It’s all I can do.” He lifts his chin. “You did well today. You . . . you looked stunning. You were confident. You commanded everyone’s attention. I was so damn proud of you. And I know if Saul were here, he’d say ‘well done.’”

His approval warms me from the top of my head to my toes.

“Thank you. Do you want to come inside?” I smooth my hands over the waistline of my dress. “You look like you could use a little rest.”

He chuckles and follows me to the door, but stops before entering. He studies the wood grain and frowns.

“Actually, Britt, I’d probably better not.”

My name on his lips shoots a tremor under my skin. I’ve missed the sound of him saying it. “Oh? Do you have to get back to the castle?” I toy with the door handle, pretending I’m not a little bit devastated.

He shifts his weight on the moss-covered stones just outside my cottage door. I notice that the snow has been shoveled to the sides of the walkway. “No, I just think I’m going to need some time to get used to being around you.”

“Why is that?”

He tugs on the back of neck. Lets out a heavy exhalation. “Thing is, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts to be around you and not be yours. I know I said you should take some time and decide what you want. I want to punch myself for even suggesting it. But then . . .” He drops his head, and the words seem to tumble out end over end. “I can understand why you’d pick him. He’s a better man than me. He’s not a jealous fool. He’s not made an arse of himself trying to protect you from things you’re perfectly capable of handling. He hasn’t wronged you like I have.”

Cohen looks up at the sky. The sun paints the curves and valleys of his features, showing that he’s lost weight in the weeks we’ve been apart. “I can be your friend. I can. I need time.”

I feel the chill in his words. The liar.

I think of the faults he just listed about himself and smile inwardly. I spent so long putting Cohen on a pedestal that I didn’t realize he had faults. However, at the same time, I wouldn’t let myself believe I was a good match for Cohen because all I could focus on were my shortcomings.

Neither one of us is perfect. We make mistakes all the time. But we’re changing. We’re growing. We’re learning to be better for each other. He’s not the same Cohen who held secrets from me and went overboard in efforts to protect me. I’m not the same Britta who trusts no one and avoids going into town for fear of townspeople’s ire.

I used to believe that a happy life with friends and family wasn’t fated for me. That Cohen wasn’t meant for me because he could have anyone else.

But I was wrong. I didn’t believe in myself enough. I didn’t see my worth.

Loving yourself, and believing you are good and capable, is a journey. One that I want to take with Cohen.

I close the distance between us and force his hand open so his fingers can wind into mine. “Thing is, Cohen, I love you too. I want you to come inside with me right now, and I don’t ever want you to leave. I care for Aodren. As a friend. He’s not the man I want. The man I love is sometimes jealous and sometimes a little overprotective. But we’re working on that. And I have to disagree about Aodren being the better man.”

I brazenly run my hand over his chest.

His eyes flash before softening. He grabs me to him. At the same time, he reaches back and opens my door. We stumble over the threshold, our boots clattering against the wood floor.

A laugh, and then his heartbeat kicks against mine. His nose runs along the column of my neck before he draws in a deep breath of me. “Is that so?” His voice takes a husky turn I feel down into my core.

This man. The way he spins my world.

“Yes.” I grin. “The best for me is you.”

He moves his head to align his lips above mine. They hover there, teasing me. “Then I expect we’ll be getting married in the next few weeks.”

Is that a proposal? I roll my eyes and at the same time chuckle.

“Seems about right to me.” I run my fingers into his beard, grazing his scar.

Cohen’s smile could rival the glory of the sun. I see it for all of two seconds before his lips are on mine and his kiss becomes my world.