Rise (The Order of the Krigers #1)(10)
“Run,” was all he said as his hand slid down to my wrist, firmly clutching it.
We sprinted toward the wall surrounding the capital, my eyes filling with tears. “You’re crazy,” I accused him. “Leave me alone. I’ll take my chances on my own.”
“I can’t do that,” he coldly responded. “I’m responsible for your safety.”
“No, you’re not. You don’t owe me anything—and I don’t owe you either. Let’s just part ways now.”
“You’ll never make it without me,” he said, squeezing my wrist tighter. We were almost to the wall.
“Let go,” I demanded, yanking out of his grasp.
Leaving the assassin meant I could go to my father. We’d have to find a safe place to hide from Morlet. Only, this plan presented some issues. In an attempt to keep track of all citizens, we were required to have papers authorizing travel between cities within the kingdom of Nelebek. Neither my father nor I had the required paperwork to leave the capital. Even if we did manage to get out, with the spell on Nelebek’s borders, we couldn’t leave the kingdom. Since Papa was sick, he couldn’t move quickly, and the cold air would only make his condition worse.
“Easy,” Anders growled. “Morlet will be able to find you in a heartbeat.”
“Only if I’m truly a Kriger.” I shivered, not from fear but from the idea of Morlet being able to sense me.
Anders laughed. “Don’t be so naive. You know you’re a Kriger. Even I can feel it. Once Morlet has all twelve of you, he’ll kill you. Your power won’t be enough to save you—not until you learn to control and master it. To do that, you need your weapon.” My body pulsed at the mention of my weapon. It was as if a flame was lit in me, slowly growing. I wanted to understand what it meant to be a Kriger.
We reached the twenty-foot-high wall surrounding the capital. Anders started feeling around the stone blocks, looking for something. There was only one gate in the wall where citizens could enter or exit, and soldats checked everyone’s paperwork. We were nowhere near there.
Shouts rose behind us. The bodies must have been discovered. My heartbeat quickened, and I frantically looked around for a hiding place.
The assassin cursed and pulled me against the nearby building. “Wait here,” he instructed.
“What are you going to do?” I demanded, fearing he’d murder more people. Instead of answering, he sprinted away, leaving me all alone in the dark.
I needed to know if Papa was in our apartment or if the man from the brothel had taken him to his home. Pressing against the building, I moved to the other end of the street and glanced around the corner. Not a soul lingered and no lights shone. Most people put fabric over their apartment windows to prevent others from seeing inside. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my resolve. Staying close to the towering apartment buildings, I jogged several blocks, eventually passing the familiar blacksmith and bakery.
When I reached my street, a group of men from the King’s Army exited my building. Ducking into a nearby doorway, my breathing became unsteady. Had they discovered my identity already? Thankfully, my father wasn’t being dragged out as they left. When all of them had passed, I ran inside, sprinting up the dark stairs and throwing open the door to my apartment.
“Papa?” I frantically whispered. He didn’t respond. His bedchamber was empty. Relief and dread filled me. If the man from the brothel had him, that meant he was an honest man who truly wanted to help me. However, what if the soldats had already taken Papa and the ones I saw leaving the building were simply the tail end of the raid? The only way to know for certain was to question the apothecary to see if someone had come for my father’s medication.
Ripping off the scratchy dress, I pulled on a pair of trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a leather vest. My father’s jacket hung on a peg near the door, so I grabbed it, along with a knit hat. The apothecary probably wasn’t at his shop. I’d have to wait nearby until he opened in the morning. After lacing up my boots, I slipped out of the apartment building, surveying the street. Not seeing any movement, I ran. The temperature continued to drop rapidly, and my breath came out in white puffs. I pulled my sleeves down under the jacket and over my fingers, trying to stay warm.
When I reached the apothecary’s street, three soldats were dragging a girl about my age northward, away from me. Sprinting to the nearest doorway, I pressed my body flat against it, hoping they didn’t see me. A whistle sounded from somewhere above, and footsteps pounded on the ground as someone neared.
“You there,” a man shouted, pointing at me.
Stepping away from the door, I raised my hands in surrender.
“You’re out past curfew,” he stated. “We’re taking you in for insubordination.”
He had a sword strapped to his waist, no other weapons visible. He was at least a foot taller than I was, but his red uniform was loose, his cheeks sunken in. The two others stood a good thirty feet away, holding the girl. There was no way they were going to imprison me. Spinning around, I kicked high, hitting the man’s head and easily knocking him over. My father’s instructions to “finish him” came back to me. Yet, I couldn’t viciously kill like the assassin, so I took off running.
A moment later, boots stomped on the ground behind me. I sprinted faster, hoping to put enough distance between us to afford me the opportunity to hide. Nearing the next street, the man shoved me and I fell forward. He jumped on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He forcefully yanked my hands back, tying my wrists together.