Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series) (43 page)

Iyra slowed to a gentle stop. Braeden blinked himself out of his thoughts.

Wow, that was fast.

Iyra laughed.
Thank you.

Braeden slid off and began up the trail to Stone’s cave. Iyra made to follow him, but he waved her back and smiled. He wanted a trump card if this went awry. Who knew—maybe Stone had a fear of vyrn.

He inched his way to the entrance and took a deep breath. He turned the corner, only to see Stone leaning against the same wall, already staring at him.

Braeden’s heart skipped a beat. He took a step back.

“Well, out with it, boy. Come to kill me already?” Stone asked.

Braeden shook his head. “Kara needs a favor.”

The isen looked around, eyebrows quirked as he mockingly searched for her. “Does she, now?”

“Look, just hold onto the Grimoire pendant for a day or two. I’ll be back for it soon.”

“I imagine you will be. And where might the young Miss Magari be at this hour that she needs you to do her errands?”

“Can you do it or not?” Braeden snapped.

“Of course I
can
,” Stone said with a smirk.

“Well? Will you?”

“You need to say please.”

“For the love of—” Braeden wanted to run his sword through this isen. He was so
annoying.

“I’ll give you a choice. It’s kind of like truth or dare, except my version is truth or say please.”

“Truth about what?”

Stone laughed. “What, are you averse to manners? ‘Please’ is a completely reasonable request.”

Braeden sighed. He wondered where else he could put the pendant. Could he just bury it somewhere? That might be the better option. He should’ve thought of that sooner—

“Are you in love with Kara?” Stone asked.

Braeden caught the isen’s eye. For a while, the crickets in the woods made the only sound.

“
Please
hold the pendant for a few days,” Braeden finally said.

“That’s what I thought,” Stone said with another smirk.

Braeden lifted the pendant out of his pocket by its chain—careful to avoid the pendant itself—and handed it to Stone.

“I’ll be back for it soon, so don’t even think about leaving this cave,” Braeden said.

“Uh huh, of course. You can go now,” Stone said. He turned and walked into his cave, his figure receding into the darkness.

Braeden hesitated. He had quite possibly just made a huge mistake, but he needed to leave. He was out of time.

He ran down the path and used the momentum to jump onto Iyra’s back. They tore off into the forest.

If Braeden had stepped just a few feet into Stone’s cave, he would have seen the isen grab his coat and set the Grimoire pendant on a small coffee table by a marble sofa covered in red cushions. He would have also heard the isen humming before muttering something about hurrying if he was to make it to Scotland in time.

Braeden slipped into his room at the Stele one hour before sunrise. He just barely made it, and only because Iyra ran faster than any vyrn he’d read about.

Iyra promised to wait out of sight along the forest’s edge in case he needed her. He planned to take her up on that, actually, when Carden assembled everyone to leave for the ambush. Carden would think it a sign of vanity to have a vyrn for a mount, but Braeden just wanted Iyra with him in case Carden survived the battle. After this, Braeden had no intention of returning to the Stele until it belonged to him.

He needed a bath but was too tired to try. Instead, he found a pair of clean pants and slipped into bed. He stared at the ceiling, slowly dropping off to sleep. He hoped Kara would forgive him. He wasn’t sure what life would be like if she refused to ever speak to him again, but he took solace in knowing it would be a better world as long as she was in it.

His memories of Kara saved him from a mindless slavery to Carden. Without her, he would have succumbed. Without her, he never would have disobeyed Carden. He would never have freed himself.

Braeden owed Kara his life, and he would forever protect her with it.

It was more the headache that woke Kara, rather than the actual desire to wake up. The throbbing pain made it hard to open her eyes, but she forced them open anyway. The last thing she remembered was Braeden apologizing, and—

She sat upright. Pink paint covered every wall, and a white bay window to her left let in daylight. A white desk and dresser filled most of the wall across from her, and the long mirror on the back of the closed white door reflected a few framed photos on the wall behind her. The door’s golden handle glittered in the sunlight. Pastel roses covered the bedspread on top of her.

Where the hell
was she?

A whir sounded from somewhere in the walls. Kara flinched. A warm breeze flowed through a ceiling vent and played with something on the desk, pushing it farther against the wall.

She held her breath.

Is that an air vent?

The heating vent in the ceiling was real. It most definitely blew air onto what appeared to be a note.

Kara jumped out of bed and snatched the paper. She unfolded it, and something fell from it onto the desk. She didn’t care. The moment she recognized Braeden’s handwriting, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the letter.

Kara—

Yes, you’re in the human world. Dailly, Scotland, to be exact.

I brought you here because there’s going to be a battle in Ourea that will hopefully end this war. If it doesn’t end things, it will turn the tides. I had hoped you would be in the village while it went on, hidden without even knowing what was happening, but Aislynn’s betrayal changed everything. You’ve become a weapon they’re fighting to control.

But here, you’re isolated. Here, you’re safe.

I know you too well to think you’d stay in the village. So I ask that you stay here. But because I know you would never stay out of trouble willingly, I took your Grimoire. I’m sorry. Just know that it’s safe and away from Carden. Away from me.

I can only imagine how angry you are, and I never expect to be forgiven. But I still mean what I said after we escaped the Stele—well, the second time. The only cares I have in the world are killing Carden and keeping you safe. You’re a strong woman, Kara, but the Bloods’ hatred is stronger. They would have controlled you if you’d remained in Ourea.

I will come back for you the moment this battle ends. I promise. Please, lie low. Use a false name. Stay away from people.

Lori and Andrew, the humans who own this bed and breakfast, think your name is Anne. I told them I’m Mark. Please don’t contradict that.

These people are very kind, and they will take care of you. Feel free to help yourself to anything you want. There are even clothes in the closet. I told them the airline lost our luggage, so they found some clothes their daughter-in-law left behind on her last visit. Apparently, she forgets things a lot.

I told them you had terrible jetlag and that I had business in Glasgow, but that I would be back soon to start our vacation. Feel free to degrade my name in front of them as much as you please. I left some money in the top drawer of this desk in case you need it.

Though I don’t expect you’ll ever talk to me again, I do hope you’ll forgive me some day. You taught me that there can be goodness in life, instead of just evil. I cannot lose that.

I can’t lose you.

—Braeden

In a small way, Kara wanted to be flattered. She wanted to be grateful. But she crumpled the paper into a ball. Her palms burned with her anger, and she expected the note to turn to ash in her hands.

It didn’t.

She opened her palms and stared at the still-crumpled ball of paper. It hadn’t even charred.

Her breath caught in her throat, and panic made her heart race. Her fingers tightened around the ball again. Heat sped through her hands as she tried to turn the note to ash, but no amount of focus could heat the paper.

Kara took a deep breath to relax the growing tension in her neck. The air cleared her mind.

A cloud passed by outside, and a beam of sunlight fell onto her shoulder, warming her skin. She borrowed its heat and tried again. Seconds later, ash dropped from the space between her fingers until nothing was left of Braeden’s note.

Relief flooded her body. She still had her magic, but it was
weaker. How could that be possible? Unless—

She smacked the desk in frustration. The Grimoire had to be the source of her magic. Of course she was weaker when she didn’t have it. She cursed Braeden under her breath.

He had taken the Grimoire. He’d taken her choice in the matter. He’d made the decision, as if he had the right.

He most certainly did
not
have the right to lock her out of the only life she had left. This wasn’t his call. Not only that, but he wanted her to hole up in Scotland and not speak to anyone. To hide.

To hell with that.

The air vent came to life again, though she couldn’t remember when it had shut off. A small square of paper slid off the desk and fluttered to the floor.

Kara bent to pick it up without thinking. She examined it, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was a photo of her parents.

Her mom and dad grinned up at her, posing behind a younger version of her on a riverbank. It was from one of the summers they’d gone to Yellowstone. They’d found a small river by a waterfall and dared each other to climb over the slippery rocks before begging a stranger to take their camera and snap a photo as proof they’d all made it.

She turned it over to see Braeden’s handwriting on the back:

They’re gone, not forgotten.

She laughed. Tears welled in her eyes. Oh, now this wasn’t fair. The photo made it harder for her to be mad at Braeden.

Harder. Not impossible.

She still wanted to burn down the house and throw the desk through the bay window, but she took a deep breath instead. She closed her eyes and let the anger sizzle until it subsided. It wasn’t gone; it wouldn’t disappear until she forgave him. But a strange calm covered her frustration and hid it deep within.

When she could breathe normally again, she opened her eyes. Braeden would still have to answer for what he’d done. She would thank him for the photo first, of course, and then yell herself hoarse. Until then, she couldn’t punish innocent people by ruining their home and business.

Most likely, Braeden had chosen this place because it was as far away from a lichgate as he could manage. Looking for one anyway probably wouldn’t turn up anything, but she had to try.

Fear sparked in the back of Kara’s mind. She hesitated. If by some chance she found a lichgate, it wouldn’t do her any good. What would she do—wander around in Ourea and hope she bumped into someone she knew? That was stupid. A Scottish lichgate could lead anywhere, including the Stele. Without her Grimoire, there was no way of knowing where to go.

She leaned into the desk and stifled a sob. She wanted to scream, but she cursed under her breath instead.

Braeden had trapped her in the human world.

Kara pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t want to think about it. She had to get outside and get some air before she really did lose it.

She reached for the door handle and caught a look at herself in the mirror. Her tangled hair clung to her face like a deflated tennis ball, and red lines still dug into her cheek from the wrinkles in the sheets.

No use scaring the townsfolk. She needed a bath, but she might be able to get away with just some clean clothes for now. She sighed and opened the closet.

Inside were a few changes of clothes—human clothes. Graphic tees, sneakers, jeans. She chuckled, remembering how Captain Demnug called denim a “terrible fashion.” She certainly hadn’t missed jeans as much as she thought she would. In Ourea, she had pants, boots—everything she needed. It worked.

Her grip tightened on the closet door. Braeden had no right to lock her here! He—

She took a deep breath as the anger threatened to resurface. If it did, she would lose control. She would hurt people. So she swallowed hard, grabbed one of everything in the closet, and yanked it on.