Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series) (12 page)

“I would love to come. Maybe after the Gala?”

“That sounds lovely. But Kara, I must caution you”—the queen paused, the first sign of uncertainty Kara had ever seen on the woman—“you should not create more vagabonds. I know you can, but to do so would break what little trust the other Bloods have in you. Please, don’t think my gift is a suggestion to take that path because doing so would destroy everything you’ve created. I do want you to have the seed, though, so that perhaps you can see that the life of a vagabond is not so lonely as you might think.”

Kara didn’t reply—she didn’t need to. She simply nodded. Aislynn smiled and walked off, their conversation apparently over. It seemed like Aislynn had only wanted to share that nugget of wisdom, but Kara took it as her chance to sneak away.

She wove through the crowd, though in a throng of mostly green, white, silver, and blue dresses, there wasn’t much sneaking involved. The hair on her neck pricked, and she turned to see Gavin’s eyes trailing her path from his place on the dance floor. She picked up her pace.

Going up the main stairs would have been too obvious—even though it was the faster route, everyone would have known she was leaving. Instead, she wove through back halls and up rear stairwells she had explored during her sleepless night in Ethos, pausing now and again as she lost her way.

Great. At this pace, Braeden would think she had abandoned him.

She rounded a corner and stopped again, retracing her steps in her mind to figure out where she’d wound up this time. When it came to her, she grinned—she was only a minute or two from the garden.

“Lost?” someone asked from around the bend in the hallway.

Gavin sauntered around the corner and leaned against the wall as he came into view. He crossed his arms, watching her with a smirk that made her skin crawl.

“No, I was just going for some air.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll come.”

He pushed off the wall and wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her the wrong way down the hall with nothing more than a light pressure on her back.

“No, thanks,” she said.

She slipped out of his grip, but fell against the wall as she did so. He stepped closer, giving her no room to move, and put his hands in his pockets.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you push me away? I made a mistake, Kara, and I apologized. A vagabond forgives mistakes, do they not?”

“I do forgive you. It doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Or like you,
she added to herself.

He chuckled. “I’m not as devious as you seem to think.”

“Please, Gavin. I just want some time to myself.”

It was a lie, but she wanted him to leave.

His smile faded in an instant. “Then tell me why you’re toying with my brother.”

“I—what?”

“He’s fallen for you, Vagabond, and you should know better than to mess with his mind. If you break his blood loyalty to me—”

She laughed. When his eyes narrowed, she coughed to cover her outburst.

“I would never break his blood loyalty to you,” she said in as even a tone as she could muster.

“Leave him be,” Gavin said.

His words were neither an order nor a request—in fact, the tone made Kara lean deeper into the wall. It was tender and calm, with a sweetness to it that slowed her breathing.

Gavin inched closer. “To survive this war, Kara, you need a king. He might give you happiness, but I would give you the strength to do what must be done.”

Kara had no answer. Her lips parted, useless and without a comeback. Gavin turned back down the hall the way he’d come, his footsteps receding until there was only silence.

Only a dozen feet and a stairwell separated her from Braeden, but Gavin’s words made her walk slowly as she mulled them over. He had done nothing but manipulate and trick her—there was no way he knew what needed to be done. He understood the arena, sure, but he frequently made as many poor decisions as she did.

So why is he trying so hard to make me want him?

His attention was yet another trick. It had to be. Besides, Braeden was everything she wanted. She fully admitted that—she couldn’t deny him any longer.

She rounded the last stair and looked out onto the garden. A woman stood by the wall, the light from the grand hall shining through the windows but falling short of her body. The woman stood in the shadows and watched the forest, alone in the garden.

Kara didn’t know who this woman could be or how she had stumbled up here. What bothered Kara most, though, was Braeden’s absence.

She hesitated in the stairwell. The woman still hadn’t turned, evidently preferring to watch the trees blowing in a late summer wind beneath the basking glow of the moon.

“You clean up good, darling,” the woman said.

Kara’s breath caught in her throat—she knew that voice too well.

The woman shifted so that the light from the hall below poured over her face. Deirdre’s perfect brunette curls danced around her pale face. Her fingers tightened around an already-drawn sword.

Deirdre strode forward, her face twisted in that terrifyingly beautiful smile.

Kara gritted her teeth. “What did you do to Braeden?”

The isen laughed. “He never made it, I’m afraid. He’s got visitors of his own to worry about.”

Part of Kara wanted to fight. She probably stood a slim chance against Deidre now that she’d had some formal training, but she panicked at the thought of Braeden in trouble. She grabbed Flick off her shoulder and turned to run, but Deidre lunged before she had the chance. The isen wrapped her arm around Kara’s neck and squeezed, dragging her backward into the garden. Pressure closed on Kara’s throat. She coughed, but couldn’t pull away.

Flick barked, but Deirdre swatted him to the ground. He landed with a whimper on the overgrown grass.

Anger burned in Kara’s chest, despite the pain. “I’m not going back to Carden!”

“Oh, you’re not going to Carden, but Niccoli isn’t much nicer,” Deirdre said in her ear.

Kara choked as Deirdre’s grip tightened. The name rang a distant bell—Niccoli was an isen guild master. An ancient and powerful one, if she remembered correctly.

She pulled at Deidre’s grip on her neck. “What does he want with me?”

“You’re so much more than you know, and I hate you for it,” Deirdre said with a growl.

Blood rushed to Kara’s head. Spots danced along her vision, but she had to know what she was up against.

“Is he here?” she asked.

“No. Niccoli doesn’t run his own errands, but he
is
impatient. It’s time we leave.”

In answer, Kara elbowed Deirdre in the gut. The isen doubled over, loosening her grip just enough to let Kara stumble away.

Flick jumped back onto Kara’s shoulder and barked as Deirdre reached out to grab them. Kara focused on the Gala hall. She envisioned the mural on the dance floor and wished she was there, hoping Flick would get the message and—

A loud
crack
broke the silence of the mountain garden.

Kara’s stomach flew into her throat. She was falling. Flick dug his claws into her hair as he fell with her.

She fell through the air above the Gala hall, just as she had imagined—even though she’d meant to appear on the floor. Flick must have seen the air above the hall and taken her there instead. How literal.

They had a good hundred feet or so until they hit the ground. Without taking in more than the throng of bodies and swinging swords below her, she turned to Flick and tapped his forehead, her thoughts focused on an image of them standing safely on the floor below.

A sharp
crack
filled Kara’s ears again. Her gut lurched, and she saw the ground a second before she landed on her stomach. Pain shot through her arms and neck. She groaned. Her breathing slowed, but the sting faded as she lay there. After a moment, she forced herself to one knee.

Flick brushed his head against her leg, purring and chirping to see if she was okay.

She scratched his ear. “We need to work on that, buddy.”

A cursory look around confirmed her fears—she knelt by the wall, in the middle of a battle. Smoking yakona with gray skin fought beside minotaurs, wolves, and the other monsters that had hunted her when she first escaped the Stele. The hordes overran the Gala, their gray skin contrasting sharply with the colorful garments of the screaming yakona running from the onslaught. The partygoers sprinted in every direction for any stairs they could find, only to be cut down by a circle of Carden’s soldiers blocking every exit.

Blood streamed down the main stairwell, where Kara made an entrance into the Gala hall earlier that night. It pooled in dips on the ground, the colors of each yakona kingdom’s blood mixing until it became a brown sludge.

Bursts of gray or green dust appeared here and there, but Kara couldn’t figure out what caused them. A wave of Kirelm yakona took to the air from somewhere nearby. They aimed for the rafters as if trying to escape, only to be followed by dozens of smoking gray yakona who changed form and followed them into the air.

Kara took a deep breath. She had to find Braeden. She glanced through the crowd, but couldn’t see him through all the bodies. She pressed her back against the wall, unsure whether she should run or try to fight.

If she’d been paying better attention like Braeden always told her in their training, she would have noticed the tall Stelian slip out of the crowd on his way toward her.

“You do look good in red,” he said.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and reeled her around. She looked up to see Carden staring down at her, steam pouring from the pores on his neck and shoulders as he wielded a large black blade with silver engravings in his left hand.

She paused. Her body froze, and words failed her as she gaped at what remained of the hand holding the sword.

The skin on Carden’s left hand puckered in a festering boil that distorted the natural curve of his palm. Thick scars ran from his knuckles to his elbow. Jagged lines in the meat between his thumb and pointer finger implied that something had ripped his hand open—a dog maybe, or a wolf.

He had killed the Hillsidian Queen and taken her Sartori sword. If anyone but the Blood or the Vagabond touched a Blood’s Sartori, it would burn their skin beyond belief—that had to be what caused this. That Carden could still use his hand was a miracle.

Carden grabbed her hair with his other hand and pulled her closer. Pain tore through her neck as he dragged her nearer. Hair fell over her neck, loosened from the pins Twin had so carefully set earlier.

“I don’t like it when people stare,” Carden said with a sneer.

Kara grabbed his wrists and pulled against him, but he wouldn’t let go. Her fingertips pulsed as her skin touched his. Her body’s natural instinct at direct contact was to see his most influential memory, but she resisted. It took most of her newfound control, but she did
not
want to see what had shaped this man’s cruelty. It would undoubtedly scar her for life. 

Flick growled. Carden lifted his hands, and a shot of air blew Flick off her shoulder. Her pet yelped as he flew back.

“Flick!” Kara twisted in Carden’s grip, but he pulled her closer.

“I don’t make the same mistake twice. I remember how that little thing saved you last time, but no one will save you now.”

Panic flooded through Kara. Her knees shook, but she had to focus. No, she wouldn’t be saved, not in this chaos. She had to save herself, and then she would go find Flick. If anyone stepped on him, she’d end them.

Kara focused her panic into her palms. She had trained for this. All that sparring with Braeden and time spent with the Lossian tutors was wasted if she couldn’t access her magic when she truly needed it, terrified or not.

Heat bounced across her palms as Carden dragged her toward a side tunnel. No—he would
not
take her.

Purple fire erupted over her hands and spread to his shirt. His sleeves caught in an instant. Flames churned over his arms before he could react. She slipped out of his grasp long enough to focus the stagnant air into her palms. She’d shoot first for his heart, even though she wasn’t sure if that would kill a Blood.

Carden snuffed out the flames with a sharp huff of breath, as if he’d simply blown out a few candles rather than been on fire.

Kara braced herself to run. She had the Grimoire on her side, but that didn’t mean she could take on a Blood. She was in over her head. Still, she summoned a blade from the air around her and aimed for Carden’s chest even as he reached again to grab her hair.

“You’re mine, Carden!” someone shouted over her shoulder.

Gavin shoved Kara aside moments before she released the blade. The force of his push threw her into the nearby wall. She slid to the floor as Carden, caught off guard, parried desperately for a few moments before he got the upper hand on his inexperienced foe.

Carden and Gavin swung and ducked, which gave Kara a moment to roll away. She peered back the way she’d come and took a sharp breath when she found Flick on the ground near a tunnel. Voices clamored down the hallway.

Kara ran over to her pet and lifted his tiny body in her palms. He didn’t stir, but his chest did move. At least he was breathing.

She had to find a safe place to hide him, but bodies and broken swords covered most of the floors and stairwells she could see. She glanced back in the tunnel, searching and hoping for—

Yes!

Bricks had fallen out of a section of the wall at waist-level. Kara ran over and cradled Flick in one arm so that she could feel around the hole and make sure it wouldn’t continue to corrode. Satisfied with its safety, she set Flick inside.

“It’ll be okay, little buddy. I’ll come back for you,” she said. She scratched his ear and ran back into the fight before she could question herself.

Kara had to get the Bloods out of there. If Carden killed them, he would kill everyone with their bloodline. She stopped in her tracks, however, when Carden drove Gavin past her tunnel. The Stelian grinned as he parried a blow from Gavin and kicked him to the ground.

“Your mother was a better fighter, boy, and look how that ended!”