Rise (The Order of the Krigers #1)(9)

There was a shuffling noise as the soldat left. I exhaled. That was close.

“Let go,” Anders growled. I jerked back, staring at him. “Your hands.” His eyes darted to where I clutched his shoulders. “I can feel your power trying to connect with your weapon. You need to learn to control that. Luckily, I’m wearing the medallion. Otherwise, you would have severely injured me.”

The necklace was tucked under his shirt, hidden from sight. “I don’t understand,” I said, letting go. “How does it protect you?”

His fingers wound in my hair, pulling my head against his, our foreheads touching. “The medallion shields the bearer from magic,” he whispered. “In the Town Square, when we held hands, it protected you, too.”

He released me. My palms looked the same as they always did. It was hard to believe they could wield any sort of power.

“They’re gone,” Anders said. He stood, and I fell from his lap. “Let’s go.”

Scrambling to my feet, I tucked my newly shorn hair behind my ears and spotted Anders already halfway across the room, heading toward a swinging door. As I hurried after him, the dress swished around my legs, scratching them, making me want to tear the thing off.

“Hey, purty girl,” a man said. He reached out and grabbed my arm. “How about we go upstairs?” His breath reeked of strong ale.

I tried yanking free, and he laughed, tugging me against his body. Anders stalked up behind him. “Let her go,” he calmly said, his voice cold and deadly.

“She has spirit,” the man said. “I’d like a tumble with this feisty one.”

In one swift motion, Anders reached out and punched the man’s arm. When he released me, Anders grabbed him by the throat, throwing him on the nearest table. He leaned down over the top of him. “I hate when people don’t listen.” He pulled out a small pocketknife and slammed it down, pinning the man’s right hand to the table. The guy screamed in pain. “Are we clear?” Anders asked.

“You’re crazy,” the man cried.

Anders shoved the knife deeper, waiting for an answer.

“We’re clear!” the man hollered.

“Good.” Anders yanked out his knife, wiping the blood off on the man’s shirt. He walked over to me and snatched my arm, dragging me the rest of the way across the room. I couldn’t believe he had just put a knife through a man’s hand.

We entered the stifling hot kitchen, the cook not paying us any heed as he continued to chop potatoes and cabbage. Exiting through the back door, we stepped into a dark alleyway. Cold air engulfed me. Night had descended and no moons shone in the sky. I shivered, wishing I still had the warm, fur-trimmed jacket.

“Now what?” I asked. No one was out. “Is it past curfew?” If so, we needed to go inside before we were discovered and thrown in the dungeon or had our feet chopped off.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I haven’t heard the clock tower.” He started walking. “We need to get out of the capital. We’ll have better luck evading Morlet in the forest or a smaller town.”

I’d never been anywhere else in the kingdom of Nelebek. “Don’t we need traveling papers?” I asked, trying to keep up with him. I didn’t like the idea of leaving my father behind and hiding with an assassin. Especially in the forest.

“Do exactly what I say, when I say it,” Anders commanded, his voice low and urgent, sending a chill down my spine. “Understand?”

I nodded, wondering what threat he detected. We turned down a side street, sticking close to the buildings. The stupid dress kept swishing, making noise. Anders shot me a look of annoyance, but there was nothing I could do to make it any quieter.

At the end of the street, we stopped, leaning against the wall. Anders poked his head around the corner, observing the main road. “It’s clear,” he whispered. “Let’s go.”

We stayed on the sidewalk, carefully not touching, as we headed to the edge of the capital.

A pair of soldats stepped out of the shadows in front of us. “Little late to be out for a walk,” one said, sliding his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Anders chuckled. “We’re not really out for a stroll,” he said with a drawl to his words, as if he were drunk. “I’m just taking this one home.”

The men looked at me. “She doesn’t match the description, but we should take her in anyway.” One reached for my arm.

Quick as lightning, Anders grabbed him, flipping him onto his back. Spinning, he kicked the other one in the head, knocking him over. Anders glanced around, and then pulled a dagger from his back pocket.

A loud bell tolled over the capital, indicating curfew was now in effect. We had to get off the streets.

“Let’s go,” I said. There was no need to kill these men. They were both on the ground, and we could easily outrun them.

Ignoring me, Anders bent over one of them and slit his throat. Blood flowed from the cut, and the man’s eyes widened with shock. My hands flew to my mouth, smothering my scream. Anders moved to the other one, doing the same. Vomit rose in the back of my throat. Repelled by Anders’s total disregard for human life, I turned and ran.

I hadn’t even made it a block when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“Let go!” I hollered, struggling to break free from the heartless assassin. “Why did you kill them?”