Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga

by Boyce, S. M.

  Her grip on the lantern’s handle tightened. She steadied herself with a deep breath and straightened her back.

  Here goes nothing.

  She reached for the polished handle, and a pang of relief shot through her that no blood managed to get on the doorknob. The door creaked open at her touch. The lantern’s flickers swept into the darkness, bringing the shadows to life. A mirror on the opposite wall snatched the candlelight and shot it across the room. The corners of a dresser popped into view. Near its feet, a shattered vase and wilted flowers lay on the floor in a circle of carpet one shade darker than the rest. The posts of a bed appeared beside the broken vase, a white down comforter across the mattress. Though exhaustion tugged at Kara’s eyes, she wouldn’t dream of lying down in her grandparents’ bed.

  Carpet fibers muffled her footsteps as she walked in. She peeked back at the smeared blood on the hallway wall and followed it inside. It wrapped around the doorframe and slid to the carpet. Halfway up the wall and shy of the smear was a bloodstain the size of a torso. Drip lines covered the stain, blurring its edges.

  Kara’s stomach clenched. She gasped and took a step back. The rug dipped, and she fell back into the wall behind her. She spread her arms to regain her balance.

  Black soot marred the rug beneath her feet. Melted fibers formed an oval a quarter inch lower than the rest of the floor. Rays of burnt carpet stretched away from the burn spot like light glinting off a lake. Kara glanced back to the bloodstain and took a stunned step forward. Her foot landed in the middle of the burnt carpet. Gold dust sprang from under her feet.

  She cursed and shuffled toward the bed. Despite everything she already witnessed, this had to be something she wouldn’t want to see. She cringed as the dust enveloped her. It was too late to escape the memory now.

  The room brightened—not only from the golden glow of Agneon’s memory, but also from an influx of sunlight that didn’t exist in Kara’s time. Everything in her grandparents’ old room reset itself. The flowers on the floor bloomed and jumped back into their vase. Droplets of water split away from the dark spot on the carpet and filled the pot, all before the vase returned to the dresser. The soot in the carpet dissolved. Wrinkles appeared in the bedspread, and a corner flipped back to reveal the sheets. A curtain opened, letting in more light.

  Agneon appeared beside Kara, standing on the once-scorched carpet. He frowned and yelled at the wall near the bloodstain.

  Miriam appeared as well, her frown just as deep as her husband’s. Her red hair curled around her face, and she yelled right back. “Ellen will not become a tool!”

  “You’re not listening, woman!” Agneon shouted.

  “I have done nothing but listen for fourteen years! I listened to your stories of how Niccoli shoved you into battle. I listened as you confessed to all those murders. How many thousands have you killed? Hundreds of thousands? It’s effortless to you, and it will be effortless to Ellen when she’s old enough to survive being awoken as an isen. Niccoli won’t let her live a normal life. He will make her a slave, just like you!”

  Agneon reeled back as if she had slapped him in the face. Kara bit her lip—that had been a low blow.

  “You think I don’t know that?” he asked.

  Miriam grimaced. Tears poured from the corners of her eyes. “Of course you know that. But you don’t care! We aren’t safe here, Agneon! Niccoli is biding his time until Ellen is old enough to turn. He’ll be unstoppable if he controls you both. Let me take her some place safe!”

  Agneon tightened his fists. “Niccoli knows where you are, and that’s the only thing keeping either of you safe. I know what he wants, and I have a plan to protect you both. But you have to be patient! Our family’s safety depends on him keeping tabs on Ellen. On me. The moment either of us disappear, he will kill you!”

  “I don’t care. All I want is for Ellen to be safe.”

  “I don’t have a choice, Miriam!” Agneon screamed.

  Green light pulsed once along his skin, much like it did in the memory attached to the medallion where he’d killed so many Kirelm soldiers. It flickered over his arms like lightning, but Miriam didn’t seem to notice his anger. She took a step closer.

  “My parents will look after her. Niccoli doesn’t know where I came from. When he tries to find us, he won’t know where to look. My plan will work!”

  “I have a plan, Miriam, but I need you to trust me.”

  “You’ve had eleven years. I think that’s enough time. What’s to stop Niccoli from turning her when she’s fifteen? Twelve? What’s to stop him from taking her now? I can’t let my baby become a monster!”

  Both Kara and Agneon flinched at the insult.

  “JUST LISTEN!” Agneon roared.

  The green light blurred again across his skin. It pulsed with renewed life. Static charged the air.

  Kara reached out to stop him. He was losing control again, like he did with the tree house. But her hand sailed through his shoulder. She knew what was coming, and she could only watch.

  Sparks blurred over his shoulders. Electricity arced across him, hugging his body as if he was a conductor. Miriam stood up straight, brows set and head high. She was no doubt ready for whatever came next. In the split second before all hell broke loose, Kara couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a ploy. Miriam knew her husband would lose control. She knew he would feel guilt afterward and hide Ellen, just as she’d asked. But had Miriam truly known how far he would go?

  Green light erupted in the small, white room. The glare blinded Kara, yet the blast itself sailed right through her. She covered her eyes. Glass crashed against something solid. Water splashed. A small scream escaped Miriam, but a thump cut her short. Something heavy hit the wall. Something else snapped.

  The green pulse faded until only the brilliant sunlight filled the room. A gust of wind rocked the shutters. Kara peeked through her fingers. Agneon stood as he had, the carpet beneath his feet now burnt. He stared straight ahead, his mouth frozen open as he gaped in horror. He tried to form words, but only half-uttered whimpers escaped.

  Miriam lay in a heap, still as a corpse. Red blood covered the wall behind her, so thick it dripped down the wallpaper.

  A door creaked open. Someone in the hallway screamed. Kara glanced up in time to see Ellen—maybe ten or eleven—run back into the hallway. Ellen’s scream snapped Agneon out of his shock. He ran to Miriam and lifted her head in his hands. Blood dripped through his fingers. Her neck bent too sharply away from her body. Her eyes never opened.

  Agneon sobbed. His mouth opened again between his gasps for breath, but he never managed to say anything.

  The gloom and candlelight of the present day snapped violently back into view, pulling Kara from the memory. She stood by the bed, one arm holding her side as she stared at the dried bloodstain. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she couldn’t bring herself to wipe it away. The movement required too much effort. Horror crept over her body, freezing every muscle.

  A ball caught in her throat, and she didn’t resist. She curled against the bed post and pulled her knees to her chest. She let herself cry—for her grandmother, for her mother, and for the grandfather who only ever wanted to protect those he loved. She cried for his failure and for the fear that she would fail, too.

  Kara wiped away the final tear sometime later. Tension she hadn’t noticed before lifted from her shoulders, and she could breathe a little easier.

  She pushed herself to her feet and headed to the porch. Even if there were other memories in the room, she didn’t have the energy to see them. She saw everything she needed to witness.

  Once downstairs, she opened the front door and stepped outside. The first rays of a sunrise peeked through the gaps in the ceiling. A fresh breeze tore through the cave, and she took a deep breath of the cool mountain air.

  Stone sat on the first step, his arms crossed as he stared into the distance. She didn’t bother following his gaze.

  “You went in every room?” he asked. />
  Even though he couldn’t see her, she just nodded.

  “Do you know why he failed?” Stone continued.

  Kara hesitated, her mind wandering over the various memories she endured. Sleep tugged at her eyes again, and she longed to curl up in her mother’s old bed, stuffed animals and all.

  “No,” she finally admitted.

  “It is my belief Agneon never trained his mind. He mastered his body, but he always assumed the magic would become easier to control with time. He was wrong. As his power grew, the wrist guard became useless. Especially in the beginning, he should have meditated more than he trained. He should have tried to understand the reason behind his power surges, rather than fight them. He never accepted what he was.

  “But you have a chance to overcome, Kara. You can learn from his mistakes. This is why I wanted you to focus on controlling your magic enough to hit a target through stacked bricks. You need to control yourself. When you do, you will control your magic as well.”

  Kara nodded again. She sat beside him and hugged her knees. “I won’t fight you anymore. I’ll listen.”

  Stone nodded and let out a long sigh. “Thank you.”

  “Can I read that letter?” she asked.

  Stone handed her the folded paper, even though she hadn’t noticed it in his hand before. She must have been more tired than she realized.

  When she touched the paper, the memory of the two men in the study flashed across her mind. Thankfully, though, the gold dust and full flashback stayed dormant. She took a deep breath and unfolded the parchment.

  The first two lines had been crossed out, and a splotch of ink stained a corner of the page. This had to be the letter Agneon was writing in the memory.

  Ellen—

  Apologies can never undo what has been done. They are never good enough. I cannot make the world right. All I have ever done is destroy, and for that, I do not deserve this life any longer. But trust me when I say every moment of every day that has passed since the night we lost your mother has been filled with nothing but remorse.

  You have a chance. You can be greater than me. And if you truly love those in your life, you will find a way to succeed where I failed.

  If this letter finds another of my heirs instead of my daughter, then I am happy. It means Ellen loved and lived and escaped Ourea. So to my new heir, I wish you the luck I never had. You will need it.

  —Papa

  “History remembers the legend and forgets the man,” Stone said.

  “I guess he wasn’t so evil after all.” Kara rubbed her thumb against the paper.

  Stone shrugged. “We’re all a little evil.”

  Kara rubbed her eyes. She hardly wanted to get into a philosophical debate, so she changed the subject. “What happens now?”

  “We return to the village. You need to hit the target before I’ll let you go out in the world again.”

  She smiled through her tear-stained eyes. “Fair enough.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SURPRISES

  With a groan, Braeden finally sank into the familiar armchair of his temporary office in Ayavel. His attempt to sway Evelyn into allowing Kara back into the council failed dismally. He wasn’t even able to bring it up—he failed by simply implying the drenowith weren’t inherently evil.

  He surveyed the room, not quite willing to get back to his attack plans yet. Everything appeared as he’d left it: in complete and utter disarray. Piles of maps and charts littered his desk. Three floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the wall across from it. Light spilled through the open curtains, illuminating the once-organized library shelves along the far wall. The bookcases held tomes in all the wrong order, some stacked on each other instead of aligned neatly along the rows. To anyone else, this must have looked like chaos, but it all made sense to him. He could find anything in the mess. Not that anyone visited him.

  Braeden sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Maybe he should regroup and head out on another reconnaissance mission to the Stele. As long as Kara remained in the village, he had nothing better to do but spy on his father.

  Someone knocked on the door, the hesitant raps barely resonating through the wood. Braeden eyed the threshold, wary. No one even brought him food during his planning sessions, so he didn’t know who this could be.

  “Come in,” he said.

  The door inched open. Braeden tensed, not sure what to expect. But instead of a Blood or perhaps a maid, a slender Kirelm woman tucked in her only surviving wing and ducked into the room.

  “Aurora?” Braeden asked.

  She caught his eye and stiffened, her hand still on the door knob. “Am I still allowed to come in?”

  “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near you. Why are you even here? I helped you escape from a Stelian prison, but you repaid me by knocking me into a mob of Stelian soldiers. You’re not here because you enjoy my company.”

  She wrung her hands. “I know. I don’t deserve a second of your time, but please, hear me out.”

  Braeden frowned. “You have thirty seconds.”

  “I betrayed you. I’m not proud of that. I was afraid. I know you didn’t torture me. You didn’t leave me with a stump of a wing. But to realize you were a Stelian terrified me. I couldn’t think. I was still recovering from the torture. Just know that I’m sorry. All I can do is hope you forgive me.”

  He crossed his arms. “Stelian or not, I was saving you. Why betray the person who helped you escape? It’s stupid.”

  Aurora glanced to the floor. “I thought it was a trap. I wasn’t thinking straight. Father never told me political secrets, so I didn’t have any information to give up during torture. But Blood Carden didn’t believe me, and I was afraid he’d come up with some clever trick to get me to share information I didn’t have to someone I trusted during the rescue. I’m sorry.”

  Braeden stared out the window, not wanting to look at her even as he’d already begun to forgive. He’d gotten soft if he could forgive her for nearly landing him in the prison from which he rescued her.

  The princess took a step forward. “When I was in the Stele, I couldn’t protect myself. I was completely vulnerable.”

  “Most people are when faced with Carden’s hatred.”

  “That sounds like firsthand experience.”

  Braeden caught her eye but didn’t say anything.

  She nodded. “I don’t ever want to feel helpless again, Braeden.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “That’s why I want you to train me. Please,” she added.

  Braeden laughed. “Train you?”

  She frowned. “Don’t laugh. I have every right to save myself if I need to.”

  “Then training is something your father should arrange, not me.”

  “He would never allow it. Heir or not, I’m just a woman. He wouldn’t waste the effort.”

  “This really isn’t my fight, Aurora.”

  “I have no one else to go to, Braeden. Please help me. I need to know how to defend myself.”

  “Ithone would be furious if he found out.”

  “That’s why he can’t know. Hopefully, I’ll never have to fight, and this will just be our secret. But I can’t ever be the victim again.”

  “Even soldiers can lose. Winning a match is all about your opponent’s strength and your ability to match or outwit him.”

  “Maybe. But I need to have something to build on. At the very least, it will be a start.”

  Braeden sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll think about it. I want to talk to Gurien first.”

  “Absolutely not! He would tell Father in a heartbeat. You will never tell him about this, or anyone for that matter.”

  Braeden’s eyes snapped toward the princess. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again. I don’t owe you anything. You have no right to give me orders, especially when you’re asking for my help.”

  Aurora frowned, her eyes narrowing. “I apologize, but you don’t need to go about askin
g permission.”

  “I trust the general a great deal more than I trust you, Heir. Don’t forget it. And I’m not asking for permission. He’s a friend, and he would understand the consequences of this training better than you.”

  She took a deep breath and headed to the door. “Very well. I cannot force you to teach me, Braeden. I appreciate your time, but I hope you’ll sleep on it rather than talk to Gurien. He’s a good man, but I don’t want to risk him telling Father.”

  “He won’t.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The princess slipped into the hallway, and the door shut behind her with a click. Braeden rubbed his neck. What had he gotten himself into?

  Braeden wandered Ayavel for about an hour, not really sure where to find Gurien. The Kirelm general rarely ventured far from Blood Ithone, so Braeden hadn’t rushed to find him. He needed a plan to get Gurien alone, but so far he had no ideas.

  After a while, he headed outside. The sun baked the summer air, and sweat clung to his shirt almost instantly. Just behind the palace, a cluster of roughly twenty Kirelms circled two soldiers in an impromptu sparring ring. The match reminded him of his days he spent in the Kirelm capital, disguised as one of them in an effort to protect Kara on her goodwill mission to meet with Blood Ithone. He sparred with Gurien then, back before they were friends—more importantly, before Gurien knew what he was.

  Two Kirelms with white wings wrestled in the center of the ring, apparently forgoing magical attacks in favor of a physical competition. One of the men spun and pinned his opponent to the ground.

  Gurien.

  The general held his soldier to the grass, twisting the Kirelm’s arms behind his back. The guard grunted, trying to wriggle free. After a minute of immobility, Gurien’s victim hung his head and sighed.

  “You win, General. Again,” the man said.