“There has to be an explanation.” The words trip out of my mouth. “He couldn’t have . . . he’d never . . . my father was like a second father to Cohen.” I choke out the last word. No matter how badly I need the high lord’s claim to be false, I don’t have a good explanation for Cohen’s whereabouts, the evidence, or the truth in Lord Jamis’s words. Such damning truth.
Lord Jamis frowns. “I’d hoped this would be a relief to know.”
A relief? I stare at the blood-red stitching on the chair, sorting through the destruction and shock and fury crashing around inside me. “D-did he admit his guilt?”
Lord Jamis places the dagger beside the book and flattens his palms to the desk. He doesn’t need to say anything; his stolid expression says it all. They haven’t caught Cohen yet. When it comes to tracking, hunting, hiding, no guard has ever matched my father’s skill. No one other than Cohen.
No one other than me.
I take in Lord Jamis’s pressed suit and carefully combed hair. To be the right-hand man to the king, he’d have to be educated. Clever. He’d already know the best person who has a chance of catching Cohen is right in front of him. “You want me to track him,” I say, shock weighting my words.
“Yes.”
I lift my chin, staring at Lord Jamis but seeing nothing. “Why would I do that for you?”
“Your poaching evidence is enough to warrant a hanging, and Captain Omar demands justice be served. It would be a tragedy to see someone of your skill discarded, so I’ve proposed a trade to the captain, one that will satisfy payment for your crime.”
I glance down at the filth on my hands and then back to the high lord.
The angry swoosh of my pulse echoes in my ears. “You want to trade my life for Cohen’s?”
He smiles with a hint of pride, displaying a row of large teeth. “Precisely.”
CHAPTER 4
LORD JAMIS’S ACCUSATIONS TUMBLE THROUGH ME, turning me inside out with doubt and grief and horror. I sit silently as Lord Jamis crosses the room and opens the door to let in three guards. The captain, the same young brute who restrained me earlier and is thick with muscle and built like a bull, and a scrappy fellow whose pinched features remind me of a fox.
Lord Jamis claps the captain on the back. “As the head of my guard, Captain Omar will ensure your safety.” He means the king’s guard, but of course I don’t correct him. “Leif and Tomas will also assist on this hunt.” The Bull and the Fox. “Once you’ve found Mackay, they’ll return him to the castle.”
I meet Captain Omar’s stern gaze and wonder if he’s pleased with this development, or if he’d rather justice was served by the noose. Nothing about traveling with him or his men has any appeal. Beside the captain, Tomas has beady eyes that shift about, making me think he’s the type who would stab a sleeping man. And the bigger fellow, Leif, is too brawny to have the grace a man needs to move silently through the woods. Then again, Cohen isn’t much smaller and he always moved like a cat.
Cohen. He couldn’t have killed Papa. Could he? And yet, there’s no denying the evidence. I crush my fingernails into my palms, needing the distraction of pain.
I pin my attention on Leif. “Three guards are unnecessary and will make traveling harder to go undetected.”
Leif shifts his weight, and a frown glances over his mouth.
“The objective is to catch Mackay,” the captain interjects in a dour tone, dismissing and sharing his dislike. “You may be considered a good tracker, but you’re no fighter. Yesterday should be enough reminder you’re easily overpowered.”
Yesterday was an exception is what I want to tell him. Then I remember how he responded before to my brazenness and hold my tongue.
“The guards are not optional,” Lord Jamis says as he crosses to his desk and rolls out a map. “The kingdom’s fiefdoms are not as heavily manned now that the lords have sent their best men to the border. Travel alone would be dangerous. And there’s a chance the hunt may take you over the border. You’ll need Captain Omar and his men for protection.”
“Shaerdan?” I ask, unable to hide my disbelief that Cohen would flee Malam without the king’s consent. He’d be marked as a traitor. Punishment would be torture until he begged for the mercy of the noose. Then again, he’s already accused of murdering the king’s bounty hunter. What would it matter if he became a traitor as well?
Tomas, the wiry fox-like guard, stiffened when I mentioned Shaerdan. I wonder if he’s more concerned about the imminent war or the country’s dark magic. He catches me watching him and glowers.
The captain approaches Lord Jamis and looks over the map. His finger punches a spot on the parchment. “We’ll leave tomorrow at first light. See that our tracker is outfitted to draw less attention.”
Lord Jamis eyes my tangled hair, my soiled skirt, and nods in agreement.
“Maybe the scrant will clean up enough for tasting.” Off to my right side, Tomas leers.
Leif doesn’t react, but my limbs go rigid. Tomas’s comment promises unwanted attention that would lead to his death and then mine for murdering the vile man when he dared touch me. Behind Lord Jamis, Cohen’s dagger taunts me from the desktop. It could mean my escape. No longer restrained by manacles, I could easily maneuver around the high lord and swipe it. If I put it to the fox’s throat, I could use the diversion to get out of this room. Sprint down the castle halls. Reach the stairwell. But then how would I get past the guards at the gate?