Rise (The Order of the Krigers #1)(3)

Rounding a corner, I spied the king’s castle in the distance. Its imposing black stone walls and bleak towers mirrored the capital and my future. Legend said it was once a shining, gleaming, white castle filled with lively parties and a ruler who cared about his subjects. I didn’t believe any part of that. It was probably just wishful thinking—a fairy tale to lull children to sleep at night. The only people who entered or left the castle were soldats from the King’s Army. The king didn’t care about his subjects—he obsessed over hunting down and capturing the Krigers.

Turning onto another street, I quickly took note of where each soldat stood and avoided passing near them. Men covered with dirt from laboring in the mines stopped at the taverns on their way home from work. Women carried baskets, desperately trying to sell knitted scarves, socks, and gloves. There were two hours until curfew, just enough time for me to buy my father’s medicine and make it home.

After passing the baker and blacksmith, both closing up for the night, I finally arrived at my destination. I entered the apothecary’s store; a gray cat darted in front of me, but otherwise the place seemed empty. Shelves containing all sorts of glass jars, most of them no larger than my hand, lined the walls of the small room from the scarred wooden floor to the cracked plaster ceiling. At the counter, I cleared my throat. A moment later, the apothecary entered through the back curtain, his dark eyes darting around the store nervously.

“Kaia.” He smiled, relieved. “How is your father doing?” he asked, wiping his hands on a small towel.

“He hasn’t improved.” Placing my money on the counter, I hoped we could strike a deal. “He needs more breathing medicine.”

“Maybe it’s time to let your father go.” The apothecary slid the coin back toward me.

Papa was all I had left, and just the thought of losing him made it hard to breathe. I pushed my coin back toward the apothecary and folded my arms.

The apothecary rubbed his tired face. “Medicine is expensive. Didn’t you just turn sixteen?”

I nodded.

“Then you can legally work.”

“Are you offering me a job?” A woman in my apartment building already employed me at helping her wash clothes. It didn’t pay much, but it afforded me the flexibility to go home and take care of my father if needed.

“I can’t hire you,” he said. “An apprentice is already assigned to me.” He turned around and took a jar off the shelf behind him. “This is one week’s worth of medicine.”

“Thank you.” As I reached for it, he snatched it away with his long, bony fingers.

“This isn’t free,” he scolded me.

“I promise to pay you.”

“I have mouths to feed, too.” The cat jumped onto the counter and lay down so the apothecary could scratch its plump belly.

“What about cleaning your store or making deliveries?” There had to be something he needed.

He held the jar in his free hand, taunting me. “There is an errand that must be taken care of.” He leaned forward on the counter, placing the glass bottle before me and shooing the cat away. “Do this favor for me, and I’ll give you one day’s worth of medicine.”

Clenching my hands, I muttered, “Only one day?”

“That’s what I’m offering.” He smiled.

The gray cat slunk up next to me, rubbing its body against my legs. Seeing no other feasible option at this late hour, I agreed. The apothecary reached under the counter and pulled out a small jar, setting it on the wooden surface. After pouring a tiny amount of medicine inside, he corked it and held the bottle in front of my face. “I need you to go to the Town Square.”

The Town Square always crawled with men from the King’s Army looking for young, able-bodied people to recruit. They would arrest the person and tell him that he could go free if he willingly joined the army. Other times, they would put the person to work in the mines, digging for the Heks power source. Many steered clear of the Town Square in order to avoid being forced into the king’s service. I would rather die than become a slave.

“Still want the medicine?” the apothecary asked.

“Yes,” I snapped. “Tell me what to do.”

“Look for a man wearing a fur-trimmed jacket,” he instructed. “He’s … well, not from around here. And he’s someone you never want to cross.”

Most likely, this man was a criminal. I swallowed, contemplating my options. Doing this errand meant receiving my father’s medicine. Papa would be upset with the risks involved. However, he’d also told me to pick my battles—and this battle I was willing to fight.

I reached for the jar, and the apothecary nicked it away. “I’ll give it to you when you return. I need some form of insurance you’ll make the delivery.”

“It’ll be curfew by then,” I said, clutching the counter so tightly, my knuckles turned white.

“Then I suggest you hurry.” The apothecary went to a wooden cabinet concealed in the corner of the room between two large shelves. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he produced a long, thin key. He unlocked the door, reached inside, and pulled out a black bottle the size of my pinkie finger. After locking the door, he came over and carefully placed the bottle on the palm of my hand.

“I have some advice for you,” he said, drumming his fingers on the counter. “This man disposes of people for a living. Try to avoid asking him any questions, and don’t make eye contact.”