by Boyce, S. M.
Gurien laughed. “You’ll beat me eventually.”
“Not at this rate.”
The soldiers lining the ring laughed and clapped. Gurien stood and helped the guard to his feet, catching Braeden’s eye through gaps in the bodies.
“What can I do for you, Heir Drakonin?” he asked.
The Kirelms hushed and turned to face Braeden. Smiles faded into thin lines, and many stared at him. A few soldiers crossed their arms. Others stretched their wings as if tensing for a fight.
“Enough of that!” Gurien snapped.
Most of the soldiers relaxed their shoulders or stepped back to give Braeden space, but none of them smiled again. Braeden had been welcomed as a brother back in Kirelm when he was disguised, and no one knew who he really was. But now, only Gurien showed him any real kindness.
“Break off into pairs,” Gurien ordered.
The Kirelms rushed to obey, dividing into groups of two and assuming fighting stances. Some began their sparring right away, while others eyed the newcomer as they circled their opponents.
“Warm welcome,” Braeden muttered when Gurien joined him.
The general shrugged and lowered his voice. “Sorry about that. They’re having trouble seeing you as more than a Stelian. Don’t worry. Once they see you in battle, they’ll respect you again. Most don’t even know you and I dueled back in Kirelm. Doesn’t seem right to mention it.”
“Good choice.”
“Do you need something?” the general asked.
“I do. Can we talk in private?”
“Of course. Follow me.”
Gurien headed toward the nearby forest line with Braeden in tow. They crossed into the trees, stopping just under the canopy’s shadow. A cool breeze tickled Braeden’s neck. Relief shot through him as he escaped from the summer heat.
“We should be fine here as long as we keep our voices low,” Gurien said.
“All right. I have to ask you about Aurora.”
Gurien tensed. Desire flitted across his face at the mention of the princess. “Oh?”
Braeden laughed. “You’re so transparent.”
“Not really. It’s obvious once you know.”
“If you insist.”
“So what about Heir Aurora?”
“She came to me earlier to ask for training. She wants to learn how to fight.”
“What? Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“Her wing?”
Braeden nodded. “More importantly, the time she spent in my father’s torture chamber.”
Gurien sighed and rubbed his face. “I would give anything to undo what happened to her.”
“But you can’t. That’s why she wants to learn to fight—so it never happens again.”
“Understandable.”
Silence settled between them. Braeden took in the warm evening. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the forest as the sun made its descent.
“Why did she come to you?” Gurien finally asked.
“Desperation, I think. She says you’re a good man, but she thinks you’re too loyal to Ithone to help her.”
Gurien laughed. “If she only knew.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been trying to convince Blood Ithone to instruct her for years. Woman or not, she will be our Blood. She needs to know how to fight and strategize.”
“But if I train her, won’t Ithone be angry?”
“Furious. He won’t have it. So you’ll have to be quiet about where and when you give lessons.”
“You think this is a good idea, then?”
“Only if Blood Ithone never finds out. If he does, I’ll have to pretend I have no idea what’s going on. If he forces me to tell the truth, though, I’ll lose everything. I’ll lose my title, my position, and my betrothal to Aurora. I don’t enter into this lightly.”
“Understood. But what will he do if he finds out?”
Gurien shrugged. “He’ll make your life hell, for one. He’ll banish Aurora back to Kirelm. I don’t think he would leave, though. He has too much riding on this alliance.”
Braeden sighed. “I respect where Aurora is coming from, but I don’t think teaching her to fight is worth the risk.”
“Please do it.”
“But you just—”
“I’ve wanted her to learn to fight for three years now. I didn’t like the idea at first, but it just makes sense. I don’t want her to have to wait until her father dies to have the freedom to protect herself. I’m afraid by then it will be too late.”
Braeden frowned. “I don’t even know where we could train in secret.”
“While looking for any sort of sparring arena—which they don’t seem to have—I found a clearing in the back of this forest, one that doesn’t seem to be used at all. It’s a trek, but you’ll have privacy. You can have a real match without attracting attention. I’ll keep an eye on Blood Ithone and try to keep him away from the area whenever you spar.”
“Why don’t you teach her, then?”
Gurien tensed his jaw. “Blood Ithone specifically forbade me from it. I can, however, teach her theory. That would give you time to continue planning your attack on the Stele without hindering her lessons.”
Braeden took a deep breath and leaned against a tree. “You sure this is a good idea?”
“No, but she needs it. I would be forever grateful if you would teach her.”
“It’s what friends are for,” Braeden said with a grin.
Gurien laughed. “I suppose you’re right. If I can ever repay the favor, I will. Would you or your woman perhaps like to learn a bit about Kirelm techniques?”
“You don’t have to worry about Kara. She’s training already.”
“I’m glad to hear that. How is she?”
Braeden crossed his arms and glanced into the forest. “Fine, I guess. She’ll be safe as long as she stays away from this mess.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to her in Ethos. I didn’t find out about Blood Aislynn’s plan until afterward.”
“It’s not like you would have done anything. We weren’t friends yet at the time.”
Gurien sighed. “I suppose not. I still feel guilty for implicating her. She’s only a girl.”
Braeden shook his head but kept his mouth shut. Powerful new magic had awoken within Kara. The woman he loved was so much more than an ordinary girl, and he sometimes wished it wasn’t the case. He could handle a human, but an isen—he would have to be careful.
“I should get back to my men,” Gurien said.
“All right. I’m still undecided as to whether or not I’ll help Aurora. I think I need to sleep on it.”
“That’s reasonable. Find me when you’ve decided.”
Braeden nodded, and the general jogged to his troops. They grinned when he approached, talking to him in low tones Braeden couldn’t understand. He walked toward the palace, keeping within the treeline so as to remain unseen. After the welcome he’d just gotten from the Kirelms, he wanted some time alone.
His mind raced as he walked, thoughts blurring by too quickly for him to focus on any one in particular. At first, he mulled the risks and consequences of training Aurora. If Ithone found out, he would likely banish Aurora to their home city and might even attack Braeden out of spite. But for Gurien to ask him to do it anyway—Braeden sighed. He didn’t have many friends, and he didn’t want to let the general down. As long as he was careful, Ithone would never have to know.
Braeden walked into the castle and, after a while, came to a stop. He blinked himself out of his thoughts and glanced around. An archway stood before him, the thin stones around the entryway shaped to resemble book spines. A pair of wooden doors hung open beneath the arch, the room beyond littered with endless bookshelves.
The Ayavelian library had served him well in his hunt for information on the Stele. Few visited, which meant he could enjoy quiet without being banished to his tiny office. More importantly, the room held the knowledge of the enti
re Ayavelian race. Many secrets from the time of Ethos survived here.
Guilt tugged at the back of Braeden’s mind. Right. He already stole an ancient journal from the library, even though no books were allowed to leave the room. He should probably copy and return it before Evelyn realized it had gone missing, though he doubted she would. He never once happened across her down here.
He entered the library and scanned the shelves without a subject in mind. The Legendary Creatures section caught his eye, so he turned down the aisle. He eyed the book titles from an author named Clehm Gaehr: Flittered Fancy; Forgotten Drowng Legacies; Griffons of Kirelm; The Lost Creatures. Braeden continued, discovering titles about everything from ice demons to flaers, large dog-like creatures that could walk through walls.
He turned a corner and scoured the shelf for a plaque describing its subject matter. His heart leapt into his chest when he found it.
The Drenowith.
He ran his eyes along the sparse titles. Though the entire shelf was dedicated to the drenowith, empty space filled most of the twelve-tier bookcase. Spider webs dotted the corners. A few lines sat in the dust on the shelves, evidence that at least a few interested souls had thumbed through a book or two from this section.
The remaining titles reminded Braeden of Aislynn’s hatred for the drenowith race: Drenowith Magic Gone Wrong; Immortal Truths of an Evil Race; Liars, Thieves, and Immortals. Braeden couldn’t help but wonder if Aislynn had cleared the shelves of all but the most negative titles. He stepped back to glance over the upper levels far above him, but found only empty space. He sighed. Waste of time.
A shadow in the topmost shelf caught his eye. He examined it, squinting into the top right corner. The tip of a book spine peeked over the high ledge. Its black cover nearly blended in with the dark wood, save for the one line of faded silver lettering.
Curious, Braeden borrowed a bit of the stale library air and threw it toward the volume, commanding the breeze in circles until the book shifted forward. Magic burned through his veins, warming his palms as he focused. Inch by inch, it crept toward the ledge as Braeden’s magic swirled about. After a moment or two, it finally tumbled off the shelf in a flurry of dust. Braeden caught it by the spine.
He examined the front cover for a title. The faded cracks of silver lettering read, Conversations with a Drenowith.
Braeden grinned. This book must have somehow survived a purge of drenowith knowledge from the Ayavelian library. It helped that the book resembled the shadows in which it was hidden.
He tucked the tome under his arm and headed to his study. This was probably one book that would never make it back to the Ayavelian library.
Braeden didn’t sleep much that night. Instead, he tore through the old book long after the rest of the castle had retired, examining every handwritten page with as much focus as he could muster in the early hours of the morning. Every word consumed him.
This journal was a recorded conversation between a drenowith and an ancient yakona named Yori. Judging by the brittle pages and strange spelling of common words, the book had to be thousands of years old. How an Ayavelian managed to convince a drenowith to speak with him baffled Braeden, but their conversation kept him turning the pages.
Yori and the nameless drenowith—referred to only as “my friend”—discussed everything from the creation of drenowith to the magic behind lichgates. According to the drenowith, lichgates could not be created or destroyed. They could, however, be altered, but the drenowith refused to tell Yori how to do such a thing. He said yakona would discover the magic when they were ready. He did offer a clue: every lichgate had its own brand of magic, which had to be understood before any changes could be made. Braeden whistled under his breath, marveling at the drenowith’s knowledge. Yes, yakona had eventually figured out how to lock lichgates and create specialized keys for those locks, but nothing further. How much more did they not know?
About halfway through, the book’s conversation trailed to the origin of life in Ourea. Isen, yakona, and humans apparently all descended from a single ancestor who roamed the part of Earth now dominated by humans. Over time, some of those ancestors migrated to Ourea, where they evolved into yakona and isen. While the yakona remained in Ourea, isen chose to live in both worlds. Since then, most of the three species shared lineage was forgotten despite the fact they were more alike than any could believe.
Braeden hesitated, rereading this section of the conversation without registering the words. His thoughts raced ahead. If yakona and isen weren’t that different, why could isen steal yakona and human souls but not fellow isen? Certain differences between species were inevitable, of course, but the magic of yakona and of isen were virtually identical. They even looked similar. Humans and isen could obviously have children, though he’d never heard of an isen falling in love with a yakona before him and Kara. Could an isen and a yakona bond the way yakona lovers did? Why not? Despite their differences, they apparently had as much in common.
He frowned. Every yakona was born with a lifeline wrapped around the right arm in a pattern resembling a tattoo. It allowed each to bond with another of the race. When bound to a soul mate, both lifelines would merge to create a new pattern on the right arm of each lover. Isen, however, didn’t have the lifeline. Kara had never acquired any sort of tattoo on her arm after being awoken. It was entirely possible that lifelines evolved in only the yakona, but it might not matter. He and Kara could still be together. Considering their similarities, they might even be able to have a family.
Braeden sucked in a breath at the thought of children and sat back in his chair, not quite sure what to make of all this new information. He hesitated, not yet convinced yakona could bond with other creatures. For a moment, however, he let himself hope. Bonding was an ancient tradition held in the highest regard, especially for Bloods and their Heirs. An Heir born of a bonded couple always held more sway over his people. Since Braeden finally accepted his future as a Stelian Blood, he wanted Kara to share a bit of his culture with him.
Before Kara, his idea of success was keeping his head down and living his lie as Gavin’s adopted brother. As long as no one discovered his Stelian bloodline, he was fine. But with her, he experienced the kind of laughter that made him happy to be alive. She affected him in a way he never thought he would know. Her love gave him the strength to escape mindless slavery to his father. Through her compassion, he finally realized the Stelian people weren’t evil but simply reflected the moral fiber of the Blood who commanded them. After a lifetime of hating himself, he grew to accept his right to the Stelian throne. He finally believed he could rule the Stele.
He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Kara, and he was prepared to spend forever with her if she wanted him as well.
Braeden stood and pulled aside the curtain covering his window. With no moon to illuminate the horizon, the dark sky stretched out forever. Pools of stars dotted the sky, the pinpricks of light offering him his only scenery through the window.
He wanted to know what Kara would think of bonding with him. Was it too soon? He certainly didn’t want anyone else. They survived a horde of shadow demons together. Kara saved him from his father when Aurora betrayed him during their escape. Though his new life was filled with the disdain and hatred of his fellow yakona, Kara gave him the strength to keep going. To fight. To survive.
What he would give to go visit her. He needed a dose of the sanity and peace only she could give him. But he couldn’t. He had to wait. When she’d mastered herself, she would find him. If he rushed her, he would be a distraction. It would unravel anything she had accomplished in her time with Stone.
He pressed his head against the cool windowpane and let out a long breath. The next time he had her alone, he would ask her what she thought of being with him forever. Hopefully the prospect of a lifetime with him wouldn’t scare her away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A NEW MASTER
Braeden awoke with his cheek on a desk. Sweat glued his s
hirt to his torso. His body slumped over the polished surface, back and legs contorted in an effort to make his chair comfortable.
He groaned.
Conversations with a Drenowith lay open on the table a few inches from his nose. He stretched and craned his neck until it cracked. Relief swam down his spine. He jumped to his feet and shook his limbs, trying to regain feeling in his fingers.
He’d read through the book once and started again, though he couldn’t remember where he stopped. He must have dozed off mid-sentence. Though he’d spoken with drenowith often enough since meeting Kara, he never had the opportunity to ask them this much about the history of the world and the ways of magic. With the book, he had an edge on the other Bloods—including Carden. He smirked. The journal was like his own little Grimoire, albeit lacking the instant-answers and small zoo of creatures.
As much as he wanted to race to the village and steal Kara away to talk about what he’d learned, he couldn’t. She needed to train, and he had a heaping pile of his own problems. Namely, the Kirelm princess with one wing and a vendetta.
Aurora. Braeden needed to decide whether or not he would teach her. And why should he? He didn’t owe her anything. He had enough to do, what with planning the attack on the Stele and scouting its borders. It wasn’t like he had spare time.
He grumbled. He could make time if he wanted. It wasn’t healthy to live and breathe war. If anything, Aurora’s training would be a good distraction from the constant planning and scouting missions. It might do him good. It wasn’t like he had many friends, and the one Kirelm general he trusted was adamant for him to help her.
Braeden rubbed his face. He might as well instruct the Kirelm princess. He might gain an ally that could work in his favor down the road, and it would please Gurien. The three of them just had to be careful. If anyone else caught wind of this, Braeden would be a dead man.
He sighed and headed to his room. He needed a bath and some fresh air.
An hour later, Braeden ran into Gurien as the general left the main dining room. They walked together down another hall, both silent until the chatter of idle conversations dissolved into the distance.