Skepticism was written across my face.
“Really,” Cohen argued. “Both male and female doves care for their young.” When I didn’t appear interested, he added, “And they mate for life. Shows they’re loyal to one another.”
A blush rose to my cheeks from his comment. “Guess they’re not just dull brown birds.”
I hoisted my satchel higher on my shoulder to take the weight off my arms. It was heavy with tubers from the market and new arrows from the fletcher.
“Not all are brown. Sometimes I’ll spot a fair one as pale as you.”
I rolled my eyes at him. How lovely to be compared to a fowl.
Without asking, Cohen tugged the bag off me and swung it onto his back.
“Didn’t ask for your help,” I said, bothered that he always felt compelled to take care of me. I may have only been fourteen, but I could manage well enough the months he wasn’t there.
“So you didn’t ask, but can you not simply accept it sometimes?” He shook his head.
I huffed. “Why accept it when I don’t need it?”
Cohen returned the satchel. With the tubers weighing down my arms again, I wished that I hadn’t thrown a fit about his help.
“Stubborn as the birds,” he muttered under his breath.
“Did you just compare me to the doves?”
He looked at me squarely. “That I did. They wouldn’t eat from my hand when I had food for the taking. Like them, you’re loyal. Compassionate. But you never want help when I offer.”
“Stop offering and I’ll stop refusing.”
He chuckled. “Whatever you say, Dove.”
That night I dream Cohen is bloody and dying in my arms, and I am choking on fear and sobs.
My throat is dry as stone when I wake flat on my front, my entire body sweating and smarting from the pain. I haven’t had the nightmare since right after the accident that gave Cohen his scar.
Trembling, I push up to sitting. Captain Omar watches me through the fire pit’s smoke.
“She’ll need food to help regain strength,” he tells Leif, who is loading a pack on the captain’s horse. “And give her more balm.”
When the captain leaves, Leif hands me a tin of food. Tomas saunters over and I turn away from Leif, who is the one ray of sunshine on this bleak excursion.
“Learned yer lesson?” Tomas’s pointy chin juts at me. “Need me to give you another?”
“Shut your gaping hole, you son of a scrant.” Leif jumps up. “Stay away from her. You couldn’t take two of those lashes.”
Tomas lunges at Leif and slams his fists into the bigger guard’s jaw. The scuffle ends before it can truly start when the captain grabs Tomas and yanks him on his rear. I watch, motionless, as Tomas scuttles backwards.
“Told you to leave her alone.” Captain Omar’s nostrils flare as he pins Tomas to the dirt.
The guard’s face purples, but he’s got the sense not to say anything.
“No lunch rations for you today and tomorrow.” Captain Omar pulls the guard off the ground and drags him to the horses. Their conversation is no longer audible, but a short while later I see pinch-faced Tomas working on grooming the horses and readying them for travel.
“Captain Omar’s not pleasant,” Leif whispers to me. “But he’s consistent and fair.”
Perhaps in Tomas’s case. Not sure I agree with Leif otherwise.
CHAPTER 7
CAPTAIN OMAR KEEPS THE MANACLES IN HIS satchel the next few days, since I can barely move as it is. After two nights lathered in balm and sleeping on my stomach, the pain is manageable. Leif cannot believe my speedy recovery, but I’ve always been a fast healer. Which is good, considering once we reach the main road, the captain demands we move faster.
Too soon, I’ll have to face Cohen and trade his life for mine. The anticipation is like waiting for the executioner’s ax to drop.
Now that we’re out of the forest, all around us the farms and fields stretch out in the lowlands like faded patchwork quilts. If I squinted, it would look beautiful. Open space where families grow like corn. Only, the land has grown tired and old. Unattended crops have gone to seed.
“What are you looking at?” The scruff of Leif’s rust-colored beard scratches against his uniform as he turns his chin to face me. Leif and Cohen are close in age. I wonder if Cohen grows as much facial hair as Leif. If it makes him seem older, rougher. Shaking my head, I drag my attention back to the fields. “I thought only one man in each family was required to serve in the army. Is the rumor about boys going to war true?”
“Lord Jamis wanted a stronger front, so he asked every able male to report.” Conflict underlines his words.
“That isn’t what the law calls for.” One man from each household appeases the king’s mandate. How would a family survive if they lost all the able men in their home?
“A month ago, the king changed the law.” Captain Omar’s comment catches me off-guard as he rides up alongside us. “Shaerdan’s troops are larger than ours.” I don’t think offering up young boys to be slaughtered is a solution, or stealing a family’s livelihood by requiring all men to leave, but I don’t say this. “If your Cohen continues on this route, we’ll go right through the south end of the war camps.”
There’s no enmity in the captain’s words; still, I hate the way he says your Cohen.
He’ll never be my Cohen. Not anymore.