assassin wouldn’t kill or harm the last Kriger. After all, he needed me.
“Sort of,” he called out. “Before you come in, grab some branches and pine needles so I can light a fire.”
Within five minutes, I’d managed to pick up an armful of fallen branches. After shoving them through the opening, I crawled on the ground and collected two handfuls of pine needles and squeezed inside the cave.
“Here.” I stuck out my hands, not able to see a single thing since my eyes hadn’t adjusted. Anders’s fingers touched my stomach, and I squealed with surprise.
“Sorry,” he murmured. His fingers fumbled down my arms to my hands. He took the pine needles and quickly withdrew. “Can you move away from the opening so I can see?”
I scooted over and gingerly sat down. A few moments later, there was a spark, and the fire took. Anders knelt on the other side of the flames, avoiding me. He wasn’t kidding when he said the cave was small. It was barely large enough for the two of us to sleep in. I removed my boots and rubbed my sore feet.
“Hungry?” he asked, his voice hoarse. I nodded. “I’ll find us something to eat. Stay here.”
After he hurried from the cave, I removed my knit cap and massaged my scalp. I wanted to arrive at our destination tomorrow so my questions could be answered. Who was Vidar, and how did he fit into all of this? How did Anders, an assassin, end up helping the Krigers? Why was I the only female Kriger, and how did I come into my powers early? And above all lingered the question I feared the answer to—did I have a nightmare about Morlet, or did he somehow communicate with me? The image of him standing before me in that eerie, black cloak was seared into my mind.
A short time later, Anders returned carrying a small jackrabbit. He’d already skinned and tied the animal to a stick. He sat across from me and began cooking it. The shadows from the flames flickered on his face, making him look foreboding and harsh—every bit the assassin he was.
“When I met you in the Town Square,” I said, “what was the black jar I gave you?”
He kept his focus on the jackrabbit. “Does it matter?”
“No, not really.” Was it poison? Medicine? Or something else?
“You didn’t give me anything,” he said. “You simply delivered something that was already mine.”
Why couldn’t he just answer a simple question? Why did everything have to be so complicated with him? Fine, if he didn’t want to converse civilly, I would ignore him.
Once the meat was cooked, he handed me my portion, and I devoured it. After licking my fingers clean, I turned my back to Anders and lay down. There wasn’t enough room for him to do the same unless he put the fire out and removed the ashes. At this point, I didn’t care. He could fend for himself. Why should I be polite to him when he was barely civil to me?
Anders sighed. “A sleeping potion.”
“Excuse me?” I didn’t bother to look at him. The wall of the cave was right in front of my face, making my voice echo in the small area.
“You asked what was in the black bottle, and the answer is a sleeping potion for my darts.”
I remembered seeing darts embedded in the soldats’ necks when Anders rescued me. “Deadly?”
He grunted as he kicked dirt onto the fire. The warm blaze on my back faded away. “It can be,” he answered.
“Is the apothecary involved with the secret organization that aids the Krigers?”
“No,” he replied. “He is simply my supplier. That is all.”
I kept perfectly still as Anders situated himself next to me. “How come—”
There was a small prick on my back. “I’m sorry,” the assassin whispered. “But I’m tired, and you enjoy talking far too much for my taste.”
My eyelids felt like lead, and then blackness engulfed me.
“Wake up,” a soothing voice whispered in my ear.
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, pretending to still be asleep, too exhausted to walk again all day.
“I can feel you’re
“Sort of,” he called out. “Before you come in, grab some branches and pine needles so I can light a fire.”
Within five minutes, I’d managed to pick up an armful of fallen branches. After shoving them through the opening, I crawled on the ground and collected two handfuls of pine needles and squeezed inside the cave.
“Here.” I stuck out my hands, not able to see a single thing since my eyes hadn’t adjusted. Anders’s fingers touched my stomach, and I squealed with surprise.
“Sorry,” he murmured. His fingers fumbled down my arms to my hands. He took the pine needles and quickly withdrew. “Can you move away from the opening so I can see?”
I scooted over and gingerly sat down. A few moments later, there was a spark, and the fire took. Anders knelt on the other side of the flames, avoiding me. He wasn’t kidding when he said the cave was small. It was barely large enough for the two of us to sleep in. I removed my boots and rubbed my sore feet.
“Hungry?” he asked, his voice hoarse. I nodded. “I’ll find us something to eat. Stay here.”
After he hurried from the cave, I removed my knit cap and massaged my scalp. I wanted to arrive at our destination tomorrow so my questions could be answered. Who was Vidar, and how did he fit into all of this? How did Anders, an assassin, end up helping the Krigers? Why was I the only female Kriger, and how did I come into my powers early? And above all lingered the question I feared the answer to—did I have a nightmare about Morlet, or did he somehow communicate with me? The image of him standing before me in that eerie, black cloak was seared into my mind.
A short time later, Anders returned carrying a small jackrabbit. He’d already skinned and tied the animal to a stick. He sat across from me and began cooking it. The shadows from the flames flickered on his face, making him look foreboding and harsh—every bit the assassin he was.
“When I met you in the Town Square,” I said, “what was the black jar I gave you?”
He kept his focus on the jackrabbit. “Does it matter?”
“No, not really.” Was it poison? Medicine? Or something else?
“You didn’t give me anything,” he said. “You simply delivered something that was already mine.”
Why couldn’t he just answer a simple question? Why did everything have to be so complicated with him? Fine, if he didn’t want to converse civilly, I would ignore him.
Once the meat was cooked, he handed me my portion, and I devoured it. After licking my fingers clean, I turned my back to Anders and lay down. There wasn’t enough room for him to do the same unless he put the fire out and removed the ashes. At this point, I didn’t care. He could fend for himself. Why should I be polite to him when he was barely civil to me?
Anders sighed. “A sleeping potion.”
“Excuse me?” I didn’t bother to look at him. The wall of the cave was right in front of my face, making my voice echo in the small area.
“You asked what was in the black bottle, and the answer is a sleeping potion for my darts.”
I remembered seeing darts embedded in the soldats’ necks when Anders rescued me. “Deadly?”
He grunted as he kicked dirt onto the fire. The warm blaze on my back faded away. “It can be,” he answered.
“Is the apothecary involved with the secret organization that aids the Krigers?”
“No,” he replied. “He is simply my supplier. That is all.”
I kept perfectly still as Anders situated himself next to me. “How come—”
There was a small prick on my back. “I’m sorry,” the assassin whispered. “But I’m tired, and you enjoy talking far too much for my taste.”
My eyelids felt like lead, and then blackness engulfed me.
“Wake up,” a soothing voice whispered in my ear.
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, pretending to still be asleep, too exhausted to walk again all day.
“I can feel you’re
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