31. Familiar Faces
Familiar Faces
Larissa
L arissa squeezed herself in between the boxes, settling next to her sister.
“I saw that.” Halla’s knowing smirk stretched across her cheeks.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her smile widened. “I knew I was right about you two.”
Larissa said nothing, knowing it would only provoke her sister further. Instead, she leaned her head back against the wall and willed her heartbeat to slow.
But as seconds slid into minutes, Halla’s mirth drained from her expression.
She pulled her knees into her chest as the silence of the warehouse deepened.
Larissa’s fingers tapped impatiently against her thighs.
She closed her eyes and counted the passage of time.
They could only wait so much longer for Darien and Anara to return.
Larissa calculated the closest escape route, her mind forming the prayers for protection her lips could not utter.
“Do you think I’m brave, Lara?”
Larissa opened her eyes, turning to her sister. “What?”
“I don’t think I’m very brave.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Norn come to me in my dreams. They help me remember my life before you were my sister.” Halla’s tiny voice was muffled as she spoke into her knees. “Even before you, I’ve always wanted to leave the farm, but when the draugr came, I ran. I’ve been afraid ever since.”
Larissa rubbed Halla’s back, shaking her head at her sister’s words.
“Halla, look at me. You’re one of the bravest people I know in either set of my memories.
Being afraid doesn’t mean you’re not brave.
It means you’re maturing and gaining wisdom.
Well, a little bit of wisdom.” Larissa emphasized how much wisdom by pinching her fingers together and showing Halla the small space in between them.
“You can still be a total hálfviti sometimes.”
Halla jammed her elbow into Larissa’s side, but it was so half-hearted that Larissa knew Halla didn’t mean it.
“Are you afraid to remember your past?” Halla asked.
“Is now really the best time—”
Larissa cut off at the expression on Halla’s face. The way Halla chewed on the inside of her cheek revealed the depth of her fear. If Larissa could distract from that fear, she owed it to Halla, no matter how awkward the conversation.
“In my memories, there’s a hallway full of doors,” Larissa whispered.
“There’s a door I can’t open. I don’t know what’s behind it, but it makes me feel sick on the inside, like there’s something wrong on the other side.
I’m afraid if I open it, I won’t like what I discover, and I won’t be able to lock it back up again. ”
Halla scooted closer to lean her head against Larissa’s shoulder. “Are you scared of disappointing me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Do you think you did something wrong?”
Larissa cracked her knuckles. Halla could be disturbingly insightful at times.
The long creak of a door saved Larissa from answering.
Both sisters’ heads snapped toward the sound.
Larissa raised a finger to her mouth and placed a hand on Halla’s bouncing knee.
She strained her ears, fighting the urge to peek over the boxes.
Then came heavy boots falling against the concrete floor.
The footfalls were unhurried, seeming to walk from one end of the room to another as though their owner was searching for something. It was not Anara or Darien; they would have announced themselves. Could it be one of the Vienám? Should she reveal herself to them?
“It’s okay, you’re safe. You can come out.”
Larissa’s shoulders fell in relief at the sound of Darien’s voice. She rose to stand, ready to berate him for not announcing himself, but Halla yanked her down hard. Wide-eyed, Halla shook her head so frantically that Larissa hesitated.
“Where are you?” the voice asked.
Larissa heard it that time. The voice was a close match, but it was not the same. It was not Darien at all.
Larissa sank lower, her back against the wall. She covered Halla’s hand on her arm with her own to let her know that she understood. They were both thinking the same thing— draugr —but even knowing the voice wasn’t Darien’s, its familiarity grated against Larissa’s nerves.
“Larissa, I know you don’t trust me, but you can,” the voice continued. “The people you’re with have been lying to you since your parents’ death. They’re leading you into a trap.”
Like honey, the words dripped into Larissa’s ears, blocking out Halla’s distraught whispers. A voice wriggled into her mind. Believe me, it purred. Trust me.
“Larissa, please, trust me.”
She could not resist the pull. Her body spasmed in rebellion, but it was no match for the voice in her mind. Larissa stood, nearly tumbling as her mind and body fought against each other, and revealed herself to the owner of the compelling voice.
It was not Darien, or even a draugr that looked like him.
It was Kafteinn Calder.
The shock at his presence was enough to shake Larissa from whatever had prompted her to stand in the first place.
She had not seen him since the house inspection.
Anara’s words echoed in her mind: There are stories of one of the Kafteinn under Shiko’s command.
He has been searching for the Vienám since its inception.
The Empress’ War Dog had found his prey.
Her mind cleared. Larissa snatched up her gun, pointing it directly at Calder’s chest with her finger resting on the trigger.
He raised his hands in a show of surrender, and a strand of blond hair fell forward into his eyes.
The movement triggered a memory, but Larissa shied away from it.
There was something painful about that memory, something she didn’t want to remember.
Calder’s face was tranquil as he regarded the gun pointed at his chest.
“How did you find me?” Larissa asked.
“I’ve been looking for you ever since you left the farm. You should come with me.”
“So you can turn me over to the Empress?” Larissa’s hands tightened around the gun’s grip. “I don’t think so.”
Calder lowered his hands, shaking his head with true distress in his eyes. “Larissa, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but you’re in danger.”
“From you,” she snapped.
“No, I want to help.”
His hazel eyes locked onto her own, and, for the slightest moment, Larissa felt compelled to believe him. She could not look away. Still, a buzzing in her mind prompted her.
“Why?” she asked. “You work for the Empress, Kafteinn .”
“Call me Calder.”
His voice was smooth, kind, and soft as he stalked toward her. Held captive by his eyes, Larissa’s body refused to move.
“Larissa, there are things you don’t understand,” Calder said. “The Empress is not after you; she’s after the Vienám. They sent the draugr to your home that night. They must have learned that I was asking you for information about them. The Vienám is the reason why your parents are dead.”
Larissa’s grip on the gun loosened. That voice in her mind that she associated with Lovisa was shouting, urging Larissa to hold on, to fight.
But Larissa couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be fighting.
If what Calder was saying was true, how could she trust Anara and the Vienám ?
Was Darien in on it too? Her head felt as heavy as her hands; the gun slid an inch lower in the air.
“That’s right, put down the gun. I’m not here to hurt you.” Another step closer. Calder’s gaze captivated her entire focus, enticing her to obey. It was as though someone pumped fog into her brain, clouding everything. He moved closer, reaching to grab the gun. “I want to help you.”
“Liar!” Halla jumped onto one of the boxes behind them, holding no weapon but the tiny hands she clenched into fists. “The Empress sent that draugr because Larissa is the Princess and the rightful ruler of Perle!”
“The Perle Princess?” Calder sneered, his eyes never leaving Larissa’s. “Is that what they’ve told you? That you’re this long-lost Princess who can lead their rebellion? They’re playing you, Larissa. There never was a Princess. It was always just a story.”
“Just a story,” she repeated.
It was what she’d often told Halla after Pappa's stories about the AEsir . This was just a story too—a story she had taken too seriously, a story she allowed to warp her brain.
“They will use you to further their agenda,” Calder said, “and they won’t care if you get killed along the way. Think of your sister. She won’t be safe with the Vienám. I’m sure they’ve promised to protect her, but they’re trying to start a war. How can they keep her safe in a war?”
“Don’t listen to him, Lara! He’s influencing you!”
Halla’s voice was muffled, as though she was shouting through water. The words sank away before Larissa could process them. Calder was right. If Larissa went to the Vienám , she would be leading Halla straight into a war zone. How could she protect her there?
“If you come with me, I can promise you protection. You’ll both be safe. Isn’t that what your parents would have wanted?”
Calder’s voice turned forceful. There was no other way of thinking besides his own.
Larissa could see that now. He reached out, his hand wrapping around Larissa’s wrist. He lowered her arm until the gun pointed at the ground.
Firm pressure on her tendons loosened her grip, and the gun clattered to the floor.
“There you go, Lovisa,” Calder whispered.
“Lara, what are you doing?” Halla shouted, leaping from the box and sweeping up the gun before Calder could reach it.
Calder pivoted with surprising speed, yanking the gun from Halla’s hands. He brought the weapon down hard across her face, sending her sprawling into the boxes that collapsed around her.
Whether it was the break in eye connection or the sight of Halla’s unconscious body, the pressure in Larissa’s mind lessened, allowing her to think clearly.
He’d called her Lovisa.
Larissa snapped awake. As though someone had thrown her face first into the Klar?lven River, realization washed over her in waves.
She’d felt this way once before, when Darien had practiced his galdr .
It was the same persuasion, the same manipulation of the mind inherited only by those of the Safirian Ancestral Bloodline.
Larissa drew back her arm, knowing she had only this moment of clarity. Calder turned to face her at the exact moment she threw her punch. Her knuckles slammed into his jawline with a satisfying crunch.
Calder stumbled backward, stunned as the gun flew out of his hand and slid across the ground.
He raised a hand to touch his lip where it had split on impact; a gold and sapphire ring winked at her from his fingers.
Larissa cradled her throbbing hand, delighted that his pain had to be worse than her own.
But as Calder pulled his red-tinged fingers away, Larissa wavered on wobbly legs at the onslaught of a new memory.
She remembered a little blond boy falling into the Klar?lven River and splitting his lip on the side of their boat. Aeron had smiled at Lovisa, even with the blood still on his chin, as if to reassure her. It’s not that bad, Aeron had said. Don’t worry, Princess.
There was a reason his voice sounded so similar to Darien’s, a reason he looked so familiar as he glared at her with those unflinching hazel eyes. Her memory clicked into place. The name slipped from her tongue in confused disbelief.
“Aeron?”
Behind the anger in Calder’s eyes, Larissa could have sworn she saw a hint of satisfaction.
“Miss me, Princess?”