I drop my chin so the boy’s cap hides my frown. I should’ve found those prints. Fighting the needling worry, I return to tracking, moving quicker than before, telling myself that a couple missed tracks do not mean the captain will think me worthless.
After a while I notice Leif in my shadow, studying my movement much closer than usual. When I pointedly stare back, his teeth shine through a wide grin. “It’s Captain’s orders to keep tabs on you.”
“Can you not do that more than a step away?” I hold up my manacled wrists. “No risk of escape here.”
He chuckles, and then his voice drops low so only I can hear. “I’m studying you, hoping some skill will rub off on me.”
I smile inwardly at his secret confession and continue searching till finding a wilted yellow flower on a bent narcissus plant.
I point out the find to Leif. He moves in for a closer look and startles me when he props his tree-trunk arm on my shoulder. The unexpected touch, combined with my uneven balance from hunching, sends me sprawling forward, elbows and knees cracking against the rocky ground.
Leif helps me to my feet and mutters a red-faced apology, but not before Tomas notices and tramples the wild flowers to reach us.
“You oaf, that’s not how you touch a girl,” Tomas says, voice leering. I ignore him and show the tracks to Captain Omar, who leaves his position beside his horse to study the broken stalk. The captain’s approval comes when he pulls keys from the leather satchel at his waist and removes the manacles.
I rub my free arms. If only the captain would throw the iron bands into the stream so I never have to see them again. “Thank you,” I mutter, unsure of what else to say.
He dismisses my gratitude with a terse nod. “I’ve only done what’s fair,” he says, and then commands the others to move on.
Even though I’m glad for the freedom, so very glad, I turn back to the crumpled narcissus where it rests between rocks in an otherwise cleared glade, something nagging me.
Cohen was never sloppy. Except when it was intentional.
“You’re better at erasing your tracks,” I said.
Cohen and I had been sitting at the lookout since completing Papa’s tracking test. I passed the search portion but didn’t do well at leaving no trace.
Cohen traced lazy letters on my arm. “You’re better at tracking.”
I huffed. “Doesn’t matter, if there are no prints to follow. You could take off and I’d never find you.”
“Oh, Britt, if I were ever the hunted, you’d find me. Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll take off and leave you behind?”
I didn’t know how much longer he’d apprentice. He’d reached marrying age and, though it hurt to admit, my circumstances would exclude me. He could have the daughter of a lord.
“Dove?” His hand covered mine.
I fought the sudden longing that swelled in my chest. “You’ve got your family. They rely on you. You’re gonna leave sooner or later.”
“True. I’ll work for the king eventually, but I’ll always return.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know that.”
He twined his fingers with mine. “Nothing could keep me away.”
I study the tracks once more, waiting as the guards move out of earshot.
“Cohen,” I whisper to the broken branch. “Is that what you want? For me to find you?”
The last time I saw Cohen, he promised to return the next day. Only he never came back. Why, when the king’s guard are after him for Papa’s murder, would he leave a trail? Why would he want me to find him now?
As the sunset fades to gray, I’m thankful for the cloak of night. It hides how I worry my lip. I cannot shake the feeling Cohen is leading me somewhere. He must have his reasons. I just wish I knew what they were.
I’ve no choice but to find Cohen and turn him over.
If only it didn’t feel increasingly wrong the closer we get.
CHAPTER 5
ON THE FIFTH DAY WE’RE A WORN-OUT, soggy-looking bunch from a sudden downpour that came on earlier. The sun is balancing on the horizon, a flame bobbing above the silver arrow-tops of the forested hills in Lord Conklin’s fiefdom.
Captain Omar stops at a pile of horse manure and then shouts for Leif to set me down to do the inspection. Dung beetles and crows have ruined most of the droppings that haven’t washed away from the rain. A portion breaks easily in my fingers, reminding me of how Cohen used to offer to check dung for me when we tracked together.
“Maybe two days old,” I tell the captain before rinsing my hands in the stream that hugs the low hill. My eyes are unfocused while my thoughts wander, always returning to him. Which is why I don’t immediately notice the other side of the embankment, where the dirt has been smoothed, wiped clean of tracks. Unlike the other crumbs of evidence that have led us westward through thorny silver bushes and wildflowers beneath the firs, the cleared area indicates Cohen has turned north.
I frown. Why would he go toward the main road?
Most of Malam’s towns are connected by the gravel road that runs east to west like beads on a string. It stands to reason that a person evading the king’s guard would avoid the most populated areas of the country.
When Leif ambles over, breaking my concentration, I show him the area across the stream, noticing a partial boot print in the smoothed soil. Why would Cohen clear part of the dirt but not all?
Before I can figure it out, Captain Omar is beside me, keenly studying the ground. “Headed for the main road,” he murmurs to himself, a question in his tone about Cohen’s change in direction.