We were. Riggs slung the sword into place on his back. As we moved toward the building, I voiced the question buzzing through my brain.
“There has to be a reason why he can draw the sword. But what is it?”
Riggs sighed. “I wish I knew,” he said.
You dreamed of him.
Caliel had been silent all afternoon, but now those words dropped into my brain. And he was right. I had dreamed of Tez.
But I didn’t understand how that had any bearing on this.
Why would that matter?I asked.
But only silence answered me.
We didn’t make it to the cafeteria.
Instead, Riggs took the stairs to the third floor and headed for the staff quarters.
“Cara?” I asked.
“Yep. Cara.” His tension was obvious in every move he made.
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure either of us wanted to know the truth behind the sword. But it seemed that around here, Cara was the one everyone went to for answers.
Her suite door opened before we even got near it. “Come on in,” the Watcher said.
We followed her in to see tea steeping on the table.
“Were you expecting someone?” Riggs asked.
“I was making tea for myself,” Cara stated. “But these days, a full pot is a good idea.” She went to the freezer and pulled out some potstickers. “Riggs, there are dry sweatpants in the spare room.” To me, she said, “Have a seat. I’ll heat us up some supper.”
Riggs was gone only for a few moments before returning drier, but no less intense. He refused to sit down, pacing to the windows and staring down at the meadow instead. “We’ve been researching the sword at the library.”
I saw the tiniest hesitation as the Watcher unloaded the potstickers onto a tray. “It has a long history,” she affirmed. “And not always a happy one.”
Riggs swung toward her. “When you said the sword chose me, what did you mean?”
She placed the tray in the oven. “I should think that is self-explanatory.”
Riggs exhaled hard. “How can a sword choose anyone? Why does it only let some people draw it from the scabbard?”
Cara froze. “What do you mean by some people? It has let others draw it?”
Riggs pulled the scabbard off his shoulder, tossed it onto the table in front of me, and said, “Show her.”
I raised a brow at the command in his tone, but recognized how close to the edge he was and went with it. I placed a hand on the hilt and pulled the sword free.
Cara looked from the glowing blade and dancing runes, to me. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“Interesting?” Riggs’s voice had risen a full octave. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Veryinteresting.” The Watcher pulled cream from the fridge.
“Can you draw it?” he asked her.
“That sword is not meant for the likes of me,” she said calmly. “I am only its caretaker.”
