Rise (4 page)

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“What’s yours?” I countered. Why had he brought me to this bedchamber?

He sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Anders,” he replied, not looking at me.

The door flew open, causing me to jump. A well-endowed woman entered. “There are half a dozen
soldats
downstairs rifling through the place,” she informed us. “They’re searching for a girl with long, brown hair who is wearing pants.” She looked pointedly at me.

Anders’s eyes raked over my body, making me feel uncomfortable. I took a step back, hitting the bed. “Can you cut her hair?” he asked. “And put her in a dress?”

“It won’t be pretty since we’re rushing, but I can do it.”

“I don’t care whether she looks pretty or not,” he said. “Just make her look different.” He turned and left.

The woman, whose breasts were barely contained in her dress, opened a drawer and pulled out a short knife. “Don’t move,” she said.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, dashing to the other side of the bed.

“Chopping off your hair,” she replied, exasperated. A loud bang came from below. “We need to hurry.”

Reluctantly, I scurried over to the woman, and she began sawing off my long strands. Hair dropped to the floor, scattering around my feet while I bit my thumbnail, wishing she would move faster.

“There,” she said, examining her work. “Not bad.” She went to the large armoire in the corner of the room. “Now for your clothing.” She rummaged around inside. “Here we go.” The woman pulled out a dark green dress made of lamb’s wool and threw it to me.

After quickly changing, I glanced at the only mirror in the room, praying the disguise would work. My choppy, shorn hair hit my shoulders, making me look even younger than before. The dress was laughably large since I didn’t have a chest to fill it out. When was the last time I’d worn something so … feminine?

“Stop scowling,” the woman chided. She cinched up the back of the dress, but it still hung loose on me. “That’s the best that can be done,” she mumbled. “You need to be on your way.”

Anders opened the door and poked his head in. “Let’s go.” He now wore a gray knit cap and a black sweater that complemented his eyes. I hurried down the hallway after him. He paused before a door. “I sincerely hope you’re a good actress,” he said, “because if you’re not, we’re both dead.”

What had I gotten myself into now? He opened the door, and we stepped onto the landing of the second floor. On the level below, a
soldat
stood guard by the door while half a dozen others roamed about the room. It was easy to pick them out since they wore the standard red uniform of the army. Several tables were occupied by men drinking, while a dozen women meandered around, all scantily clad and not at all bothered by the presence of the king’s men.

My eyes bulged. “Is this a brothel?” I asked, horrified.

Anders leaned down close to me. “It is,” he whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “And we just bedded. So I suggest you start playing the part, and lead me downstairs, woman.” He swatted my bottom.

My entire body heated up from utter and complete embarrassment. There was no way I, a sixteen-year-old girl who had nothing to entice a man with, could pull this off. My free time was spent learning to fight, not wooing men. The girls my age who did this sort of thing didn’t look or act like me. Then again, it wasn’t as if I was a harlot—I just had to pretend to be one.

Rolling my shoulders back and standing tall, I held onto my green dress, trying to still my sweaty hands as we headed down the stairs. A couple of tables had been flipped upside down, and two
soldats
stood at the bar questioning patrons about me. The only way out of this alive was to play the part. Reaching back, I grabbed Anders’s hand and batted my eyelashes at him like girls my age did when flirting. Luckily, the king’s rules about not laughing or showing public affection were only enforced outside. The corners of Anders’s lips rose as he fought a smile. My face went flaming red.

At the bottom of the stairs, he slid his hands around my waist and nuzzled his head to my neck. “Sit in a dark corner,” he whispered. “Don’t let them see your face. As soon as they leave, we’ll exit through the kitchen.”

There were many dark corners to choose from. Heading to the nearest one, Anders sat on a chair and pulled me onto his lap. There had better not be anyone here from my apartment building.

“This isn’t going to work if you keep acting like a stiff board,” Anders mumbled. “At least pretend you’re an alluring woman who has bedded dozens of men.”

If there hadn’t been
soldats
crawling all over the place right now, I’d have punched Anders right across his face. What infuriated me the most was that he was right. Not having any idea how to act, I observed the people around me. At the table next to us, a man sat on a chair drinking from a pewter mug, while a woman straddled him, playing with his shoulder-length hair.

Anders didn’t have enough hair to run my fingers through, and there was no way I was going to sit astride him while wearing a dress. Anders laughed, throwing his head back.

“What?” I asked, appalled he’d been able to read my mind.

His hands slid on either side of my face. I tried pulling away, but he drew me closer. “Stop scrunching your nose as if you’re disgusted.” He moved his lips to my right ear. “And if you’re not going to play the part, then I will for the both of us. There’s no way I’m going to be taken before Morlet to be executed like a dog.” He kissed my neck.

I froze. I’d never been kissed by a man before. There wasn’t time for such trivial activities or things like courting. Work, training, and taking care of my father were all I did. Anders’s lips left a hot trail along my skin. “What are you doing?” I hissed. There was no need for him to go that far. He could pretend to woo me without actually pressing his soft, tender lips to my neck. My eyes fluttered closed as warmth spread through me.

“Believe me,” he murmured against my skin, “I’d prefer not to have to do this either.”

My eyes flew open, and common sense returned.

“Sorry to disturb you,” a man said from behind me. “But we’re looking for a girl, about sixteen years old, wearing pants and a vest, maybe a jacket. She has long, brown hair. Have you seen anyone matching this description?”

Anders peered up at the
soldat
. I used the opportunity to snuggle closer to him, hiding my face against his neck.

“Been here all night,” Anders lazily replied. “Haven’t been paying attention to those wearing pants, if you know what I mean.”

The man chuckled. “I do.”

“And that sounds like a boy,” Anders commented. “Are you sure it’s a girl you seek?”

“Yes, because of the long hair. She was probably dressed as a boy to disguise her identity. We’ve been rounding up all the sixteen-year-old girls matching that description. Got over twenty already.”

My hands tingled as fear radiated through me. What would Morlet do to all those innocent people? Would he kill them?

“Well,” Anders said, “if I see any girls that age out and about, I’ll be sure to report them.”

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?”

“Run,” was all he said as his hand slid down to my wrist, firmly clutching it.

We sprinted toward the wall surrounding the capital, my eyes filling with tears. “You’re crazy,” I accused him. “Leave me alone. I’ll take my chances on my own.”

“I can’t do that,” he coldly responded. “I’m responsible for your safety.”

“No, you’re not. You don’t owe me anything—and I don’t owe you either. Let’s just part ways now.”

“You’ll never make it without me,” he said, squeezing my wrist tighter. We were almost to the wall.

“Let go,” I demanded, yanking out of his grasp.

Leaving the assassin meant I could go to my father. We’d have to find a safe place to hide from Morlet. Only, this plan presented some issues. In an attempt to keep track of all citizens, we were required to have papers authorizing travel between cities within the kingdom of Nelebek. Neither my father nor I had the required paperwork to leave the capital. Even if we did manage to get out, with the spell on Nelebek’s borders, we couldn’t leave the kingdom. Since Papa was sick, he couldn’t move quickly, and the cold air would only make his condition worse.

“Easy,” Anders growled. “Morlet will be able to find you in a heartbeat.”

“Only if I’m truly a Kriger.” I shivered, not from fear but from the idea of Morlet being able to sense me.

Anders laughed. “Don’t be so naive. You know you’re a Kriger. Even I can feel it. Once Morlet has all twelve of you, he’ll kill you. Your power won’t be enough to save you—not until you learn to control and master it. To do that, you need your weapon.” My body pulsed at the mention of my weapon. It was as if a flame was lit in me, slowly growing. I wanted to understand what it meant to be a Kriger.

We reached the twenty-foot-high wall surrounding the capital. Anders started feeling around the stone blocks, looking for something. There was only one gate in the wall where citizens could enter or exit, and
soldats
checked everyone’s paperwork. We were nowhere near there.