4. Deceived
Deceived
Darien
M inutes dragged on. Two trucks passed, their owners waving angry hands as they swerved around Darien’s truck.
Finally, the rusted blue pickup came clanking down the road, slowing before the obstruction of Darien’s truck.
The pickup’s engine protested loudly at the sudden stop, whining as Darien threw open his own door.
He raised his hands in a show of surrender.
He had not forgotten the fierce look on the girl’s face when she’d stepped in between him and the child.
She would run him over if she thought that he was a threat. He admired her for it.
She sat in the driver seat, both hands gripped around the wheel, eyeing his approach.
Darien smiled. “I thought you might need some help moving those pallets before she’s squashed.”
An exaggeration, but it did the trick. With a loud squeal, the emergency brakes popped into place as the girl threw open the door.
Dust swirled under her boots when they hit the ground.
Outside the Intake Yard she stood taller, no longer hiding herself from the sentry’s gaze.
She strode to the back of the truck, her hair catching the light flickering in through the branches.
“Are you going to help or what?” she asked. From the raise of her eyebrow, she'd clearly caught him staring.
Darien grinned at the ground as he joined her at the tailgate.
Short strands of sun-bleached hair fell from the girl’s braids, hanging around her face. A bright red smear on her cheek traveled to the bottom of her ear, most likely from one of the strawberries. He considered mentioning it, but chose otherwise.
“You said your name was Darien?”
“Darien Aagenson.” The lie stumbled through his lips before he could stop it. It tasted sour in his mouth; after all, she’d been forced to share her own secret with him. It seemed wrong to not reveal his own. That he was only Aagenson in name, but not in blood.
Pounding erupted from the bed of the truck, accompanied by an angry, muffled voice. The girl rolled her eyes in amusement and clicked her tongue. “Well, Darien Aagenson, I would appreciate your help freeing my hálfviti sister from the pallets.”
Sisters? The child was definitely a second-born.
Darien glanced down the road, knowing another truck would be along shortly, but he had to make sure that the child was okay.
They made short work of removing the pallets, revealing the tiny child who stood from her cramped position.
The smear on the older sister’s cheek was nothing compared to the child.
From head to toe, she was splattered with various stains of reds, purples, and blues.
The frizzled yellow hair at the nape of her neck looked more like a bird’s nest than anything else.
Sweat clung to her clothes. Her cheeks were flushed so red they could have been painted with strawberries.
Darien grinned at the sight. So often there was nothing he could do about the sentries’ brutality, but this time was different. The child was unharmed and free, thanks to him.
The girl pulled her younger sister into a hug, ignoring the sticky mess. “Halla,” she said, her voice laced with worry, “what in Mimir’s name were you doing back there?”
“Lara, too—tight—” Halla gasped, her voice muffled as her mouth was still squished tight in her sister’s arms. She wriggled her face free. “I couldn’t make it to the barn, the sentries—” Noticing Darien’s presence, Halla’s mouth clamped shut.
Darien waved. “Hey, kiddo.”
Halla’s eyes rounded, but her hand seemed to wave back of its own accord.
Lara’s eyes moved to Darien, as if she too were worried Halla had said too much. Darien considered telling her his secret, if only to ease her fear. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but time was passing too quickly. They would not be alone much longer.
Darien cleared his throat. “Not that this isn’t heartwarming, but another truck will be coming down this road any minute now.”
Lara nodded. “Halla, get in the passenger seat and stay below the dash line.”
Halla nodded, climbing over the pallets, which Lara then shifted back into place. Darien hopped down and turned to offer a hand to Halla.
“Need some help? It’s a far jump for a little thing like you.”
The pink in Halla’s nose traveled up to her forehead. “I’m not a child. I can do it myself.”
Behind her, Lara rolled her eyes as if to say, Welcome to my world . Amused, Darien stepped aside.
Halla lowered herself from the bed, but her foot caught the edge.
She plummeted toward the ground face-first, only to be caught in Darien’s waiting arms. He righted her and stepped back, tightening his lips to keep from laughing.
With a dignity befitting one of the Queens of Old, Halla straightened her shoulders and walked past him without another word, taking her place in the passenger seat of the truck.
Lara hopped down next and shut the tailgate.
Though her eyes were still guarded, at least her arms were not crossed.
Darien pushed his luck. “So. Lara, huh?”
“Larissa, actually, but Halla likes Lara.”
“Well, it looks like you have your hands full.” He searched for his next words, knowing that each syllable cost them precious time, yet he couldn’t just say goodbye.
He rarely interacted with anyone outside his farm, especially no one as attractive or mysterious as Larissa.
Besides, Darien still hadn’t learned their story. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again?”
“And perhaps the Kings and Queens of Old will return. I really should go, but thank you.” She tugged at her gloves. “For everything. Halla may be a handful, but she’s my world. I owe you, Darien Aagenson.”
Darien slid his hands into his pockets. “I hope to collect one day, Lara .”
Her eyes met his, and Darien wanted to reach out, to prolong this moment somehow.
An annoying sensation itched at the back of his mind.
Some familiarity called to him, but when Darien reached for it, it slipped through his fingers.
In his distraction, Larissa’s gaze shifted and their moment passed.
Without looking back, she joined Halla in the cab.
He watched the truck pull away. Then they were gone.
Two caws in quick succession broke his reverie. Darien glanced at the raven sitting in the branches above him, cocking its head in his direction. One of its large black eyes bored down on him.
What was that saying about counting the caws of a raven? Had it been a story Aagen told him? Darien shook the thought from his mind. Aagen was always telling one story or another. He tore his eyes away from the bird, walking back to his own truck.
And perhaps the Kings and Queens of Old will return , Larissa had said.
It was a saying that only those outside the Wall would use freely.
Such an event—the return to a society before the Empress’ reign—was unlikely enough to seem impossible.
Maybe Larissa was right. After all, they’d never crossed each other’s paths before this, and he’d been doing the supply runs for the past three seasons.
Still, he was determined to ask Aagen what he knew about any berry farms close by.
Darien mentally kicked himself, wishing he had asked Larissa her last name.
Back in his truck, Darien realized that Larissa’s omission of a last name was probably intentional.
After all, whoever this family was, they had a secret: a second-born.
It was one thing for Darien to claim to be a first-born when no sibling could dispute that claim, and when he had the paperwork to back it up.
It was an entirely different thing for two siblings to coexist in the same space.
How they’d managed to keep it a secret for this long was astounding.
Darien turned down the road. Would he be wrong to go poking around in search of Larissa?
Her tenacity fascinated him, and, if he was being honest, so did her appearance.
Light-colored hair was common enough in the south, but pure white was rare, as was her paler skin.
It reminded him of the goddess Skaei from Aagen’s stories.
That eccentricity combined with those honey eyes—Darien could admit it—he wanted to see her again. But was it worth the risk?
Some secrets were best left alone.
He’d long stopped searching for the answers to his own.
All Darien could remember of his past was his life on the farm.
His first memories began with Aagen, a childless widower who’d found Darien wandering on stubby toddler legs beneath his apple trees.
Where Darien had come from was not a topic that Aagen would discuss.
Before Darien could comprehend what was happening, some thing dashed out from the trees and into the road.
His foot slammed hard on the brake, but the truck, propelled by its own weight, could not stop.
He swerved; the figure leapt from the road.
The truck continued skidding across the asphalt.
Darien felt the truck swing off the side of the road, barreling through the surrounding bushes, shaking Darien like a ragdoll until it slid to a stop in the mud.
When his breathing finally slowed, Darien moved with deliberate caution.
He turned his head from side to side, pausing in between.
When there was no pain, he stretched out other portions of his body.
Aside from some soreness, he was whole. With a grunt he shoved open the door, sucking in a quick breath as his feet hit the ground, then letting out a long whistle.
The truck bore no holes or significant dents, but there was no disguising the surface damage caused by the branches he had barreled through.
The dull black paint had never been in pristine condition, but this was just pathetic.
Thanking the AEsir that the truck had somehow managed to miss every tree in its path, Darien checked the rations sitting in the bed.
Relief flooded him to find them undamaged.
A branch snapped.
Darien spun, staring into the trees. The thing that had dashed out in front of the road had been a blur, but he’d assumed it was an animal. It had been small, easily concealable in the surrounding vegetation. Darien picked up a broken branch from the ground.
Another snap, this time behind him. He turned, raising his branch.
A thin young child with tanned skin and hair as black as a moonless night emerged from the thicket. Smaller than even Halla, she couldn’t have been older than seven or eight. At her throat, a large ruby pendant pulsed like a second heart.
“Who are you?” Darien asked. Hearing the sharp edge of his own voice, he lowered the branch in his hand. “Are you lost?”
The child shook her head, biting her lip and looking around as if nervous she would be seen.
Perhaps she was a runaway, another second-born escaping the Wall.
It would be just Darien’s luck to come across two in one day.
Regarding Darien with wide eyes, she motioned him forward with a delicate hand.
He approached, but cautiously. Darien’s innate desire to help was battled by Aagen’s stories of the skogsr? who lived in the forests and lured men to their deaths. But those were just stories. This child did not have the tail of a cow. He was being ridiculous.
Darien let go of the branch. It was a day for rescuing strays. “What’s your name?”
“Anara.” There was no fear in her voice.
He crouched down. “Anara, huh? I’m Darien.”
The copper in her eyes brightened at the name, but something about her eyes unnerved him.
There was no childhood innocence within them, but a depth that only trauma and time could account for.
Anara reached out to brush back a curl of Darien’s dark hair.
At her touch, an electric shock coursed through his body
What?
It was the only thought he could form before all he could feel, all he could think, was a burning sensation running through his body.
The current raced through his veins, not painful, but physically debilitating. Darien tried to move, but his body would not respond. He was frozen in place, crouched low with burning thighs. His eyes darted around his surroundings, expecting an ambush.
When the sensation passed and no sentries appeared, he glared at Anara. She stared back, her eyes brimming with curiosity and…something else. Satisfaction?
Through clenched teeth, he asked, “What did you do to me?”
Anara moved closer and cupped her hands around Darien’s face, bringing their foreheads together with a light touch that sent another wave of fire through his body.
This time, it did hurt. His skin felt hot and cold all at once.
Black spots blocked out his vision. Images overlapped in his sight, but he could not make sense of them. The shock coursed through him again.
Giving into the pain, he groaned, closing his eyes.
When Anara spoke, her voice was stronger and more mature, far from that of a child. “I am giving you your life back.”
Darien forced his eyes open to see the girl transforming, her limbs elongating until she towered over him in his crouched position.
She was now older than Darien, although not by much.
That bright ruby pendant hanging just below her sharp collarbones seemed to laugh at Darien’s confusion.
The gold plating around the gem matched the ring in the woman’s nose.
She cocked one hip to the side and placed her long-fingered hand upon it.
A terrifying thought pierced the rush of adrenaline clouding Darien’s mind. Shapeshifter.
Anara smiled, revealing rows of sharpened teeth. “Say thank you.”