Rise (The Order of the Krigers #1)(41)

“Do I like who?”

“Vidar,” Anders said, pushing himself to a sitting position.

I certainly enjoyed his company and felt an innate sense of trust with him. “Of course I like Vidar. He’s been nothing but kind to me.” Unlike Anders, who seemed to irritate me every chance he got.

The corners of Andres’s lips pulled up into a sly smile. “That’s not what I meant.”

I cocked my head. Was he asking if I had any sort of romantic feelings toward Vidar? “You can’t be serious. You must have hit your head when you fell.”

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing. “It’s just that wherever Vidar goes, he seems to acquire several female admirers. He is very good at flattery. I thought perhaps you’d fallen for his antics.”

Vidar certainly was appealing, and at first, I did think of him that way. But after I got to know him, all I felt for him was friendship. And I was certain, beyond a doubt, that was all he felt for me, too.

“Just because I’m young and haven’t been courted, doesn’t mean I’ll fall for the first man who flirts with me.”

“You’ve never been courted?” Anders raised his eyebrows. “I find that hard to believe.”

I whacked his arm. “Don’t tease me,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “Now that you know something personal about me, why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” He looked away from me.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, resting my arms on my knees, “we’re stuck here. You’re going to need my help to get your foot out of that crevice. I suggest you tell me something worthwhile for my trouble.”

“I don’t like talking about myself.”

“You don’t trust many people, do you?”

“No,” he muttered.

Why did I care about this man? If he didn’t want to talk or share his life with me, he didn’t have to.

He tilted his head toward me and our eyes locked. My heartbeat sped up under his scrutiny. “My life before Vidar was a nightmare. Talking about it only makes me relive that time in my life. I was forced to become a monster and commit such atrocious crimes it makes me sick.”

I glanced away, unable to take his piercing gaze. “I didn’t realize.”

“Of course not. You had a loving father raise you, not a sadistic man who only saw you as a piece of property—something he could make money from.”

Mustering the courage to peer into his glassy eyes, I said, “If you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.” I patted his shoulder and then scooted away so he’d know I didn’t plan to push the matter any further.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said with a devious smile. “If you pass the trials and receive your weapon, I’ll answer one question.”

The awkward tension faded away. “Any question?”

He nodded.

“Then be prepared, because it’s not if I pass, but when.”





Chapter Twelve


“Watch out!” Vidar yelled as he lowered something through the hole. I reached for the basket woven from leaves and twigs, releasing it from the vine rope. Inside was some sort of thick, gooey paste.

“Smear it all over his boot,” Vidar instructed. “It should enable him to shimmy free.”

I was about to ask what the substance was when Anders said, “You don’t want to know.”

Snapping my mouth shut, I knelt near his foot. Lifting two fingers, I prepared to scoop the goo when Anders swiftly sat up and grabbed my hand. “Don’t touch that stuff,” he said, squeezing my fingers. “There’s probably a leaf or something to use so it doesn’t come into contact with your skin.”

There was a large, green leaf attached to the side of the basket. Wrapping it around my fingers, I mumbled, “Here goes nothing.” I scooped up a glob of the substance and smeared it all over Anders’s boot. “This stuff smells like a rotten body.”

“You’re not far off,” he responded. “My boot is going to permanently stink.”

“See if you can wiggle it free.”

“It’s moving a little bit, but not enough.”

Scooping up more of the goo, I rubbed the pungent-smelling stuff on his boot. “What about now?”

Anders jiggled his leg, trying to free his foot. His face turned red.

“Are you hurt?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied, not meeting my eyes.

Throwing the leaf on the ground, I sat next to him, taking his hand in mine. He didn’t pull away. “Please be honest with me. Did you injure your foot when it got wedged in the crevice?”

He leaned back, lying on the ground, his hand still clasped with mine. “I think my ankle is sprained.”

No wonder he couldn’t get it out; it was probably swollen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not important.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “Listen, you need to get yourself out of here.”

There was no way I was going to leave him.

“Kaia,” he whispered, “it’s almost nighttime. You need the protection of Vidar’s necklace.” His face had a few days’ worth of stubble. “I’m sure my foot will be able to slip out once the swelling decreases.” He squeezed my hand.