“Welcome,” there was about six feet of distance between our ridge and the group of defectors. I scanned over the group warily, there were women men, and children all bundled together with eyes like knives. Some looked at me and whispered to each other, others looked at Oryn nervously.
“Prince Óðinn,” a slightly older man stepped forward he spared a side glance to Kaden. “I suppose we always knew it would be you.”
Kade’s jaw clenches but he’s quiet.
“And who might you be? The leader?” Oryn asks.
“We have no leader,” a woman snaps. She seems to wither slightly when Oryn looks at her. “W-we are governed by the true king.”
Murmurs of agreement sprung through the group.
Kaden scoffed, “Then what you felt those days ago…do you claim that was an illusion?”
“N
