Rise (The Order of the Krigers #1)(28)

I didn’t want to sleep in his room; however, I understood why he wanted me to. Considering all he’d done for me, it was the least I could do.

***

The sound of people talking roused me. Opening my eyes, I found myself in Vidar’s bed, wrapped in his arms, my head on his chest. Thunder boomed in the distance.

“We’ll discuss it later,” he whispered. “Go before you wake her.”

Realizing Vidar wasn’t talking to me, I flew to a sitting position and twisted around. Anders stood in the doorway, dripping wet from the light rain.

“How’s my father?” I asked. Anders turned and trudged away without acknowledging me. Wanting to speak to him, I went to climb out of bed.

Vidar’s arm tightened around me, and he tapped the end of my nose with his finger, capturing my attention. “You’re adorable in the morning.” His lips curled into a slow smile. “I slept like a baby. How about you?”

Both of us were fully dressed and lying on top of the blankets. Obviously, nothing had happened, but I didn’t want Anders to get the wrong idea. I shoved away from Vidar and scrambled out of bed. “I slept just fine, thank you.”

“Morlet will try to communicate with you again as soon as he’s strong enough. I’d recommend not napping.” He sat up and stretched.

“I’ll make sure I’m near Anders and the medallion.”

“That won’t work.” Vidar ran his hands through his rumpled hair. “The medallion is mine, and I’m supposed to wear it at all times.” He pointed to the door handle where the necklace hung. “See, Anders already gave it back to me.” Vidar got up and took the medallion, placing it around his neck so it rested against his chest. He glanced at me and chuckled. “Guess you’ll just have to sleep with me from now on.”

I rolled my eyes. “You should be so lucky.” I hurried from the room, eager to talk to Anders about my father.





Chapter Seven


The light rain picked up, turning into a heavy downpour. I ran to my room and changed into a clean pair of trousers and a thick shirt. When I entered the main room, Vidar was kneeling at the hearth, nursing the flames back to life. Banging came from the kitchen, so I headed in there. Anders had his back to me while he stirred something in a pot hanging over a small fire.

“I’m glad you made it back safely,” I said. “Were you able to find my father? Is he well?” Hopefully, Papa had not gotten worse. I held my breath, waiting for Anders to answer.

“I just returned,” he mumbled, not bothering to look at me while he spoke. “Can I at least eat before you bombard me with a thousand questions?” He shook his head. “I forgot how much you love to talk.”

Sitting down at the table, I drummed my fingers on the wooden surface. This was my father we were talking about. He was the only family I had. So no, I couldn’t wait for Anders to do something so trivial as eat. I started tapping my foot.

After using a wooden ladle to scoop some white mush into a bowl, he sat across from me and ate, not once looking in my direction.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked. Another thought occurred—maybe my father had died and Anders was afraid to tell me the news. “Is my father … ” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

He glanced up with fierce brown eyes and said, “Your father is fine.” Then he went back to eating, studiously ignoring me.

“Now that we’re all here,” Vidar said as he came into the kitchen, “we need to talk.” He went over to the pot and scooped some white mush into two bowls. After handing one to me, he sat down. “Anders isn’t the best cook,” he loudly whispered, “but at least it’s warm.” Taking a spoonful, he elegantly ate the food.

I stirred mine, not really hungry.

“While you were gone,” Vidar continued, “Morlet visited Kaia in her dreams. He has to know someone is helping her. It’s only a matter of time until he discovers we’re still alive.”

Anders put down his spoon and observed his friend. “How is this possible?”

“I spoke with Grei Heks. She said he’s feeding off Kaia’s power.”

Anders rubbed his face. “So now what?”

“We need to train Kaia. Then we’ll rescue the Krigers.”

“I’m not sure she’s ready,” Anders said. “She’s only sixteen.”

Vidar smiled. “True, but she’s not like other girls. She’s special.”

Both of them spoke as if I weren’t in the room. I pushed away from the table, not caring to hear any more of their conversation, and walked out of the kitchen. The walls felt confining, suffocating. I needed some time alone to sort through my thoughts. I left the house, crossed the bridge, and climbed down the tree. I stepped out of the trunk, the rain pounding on the ground. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the cold water wash over me. Papa was okay. Morlet hadn’t captured him nor had my father’s illness taken him.

My clothes were drenched, but being alone in the forest in the pouring rain was liberating. I could almost forget Anders’s degrading words: I’m not sure she’s ready. She’s only sixteen. Neither Anders nor Vidar looked much older than I was. Granted, I wasn’t an assassin skilled in the art of killing. However, I was more than capable of taking on a larger opponent and winning. After all, I’d been training my entire life for this—I just hadn’t known it.