by Boyce, S. M.
Someone rapped against the door—two light knocks.
“Come in,” Braeden said.
The door swung open. Gurien slipped in and quickly shut the door.
Braeden frowned. “You’ll get in trouble for being here.”
“Maybe, but I had to thank you before we leave.”
“We?”
Gurien frowned. “We. Blood Ithone is forcing every Kirelm to leave.”
Braeden shot to his feet. “Over a sparring match? He’s insane!”
“He’s furious. He won’t listen to reason when he gets this emotional. He’s even slipped into his daru a few times in the last half hour from a lack of control.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree.” Gurien rubbed his neck.
Braeden sank back in his chair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Worst case was Aurora getting sent back to Kirelm. Worst case was dealing with Ithone’s insults afterward. Worst case wasn’t supposed to mean losing a powerful ally altogether.
His shoulders slumped. He stared at the desk, words on the tip of his tongue as he searched for what to say. He had to fix this. He had to do something. If he didn’t, it would unravel a good chunk of what he and Kara had achieved thus far. The Bloods’ alliance was a bit frail, but it had to be stronger than this.
Braeden caught his friend’s eye. “What do I do, Gurien?”
“There’s nothing to be done, I’m afraid. Blood Ithone has made up his mind.”
The general scanned the closest shelf and grabbed a book. Candles on the desk cast shadows on its gold binding. Braeden couldn’t read the title, but he hadn’t pulled many books off the shelves. He didn’t recognize it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Hope you don’t mind if I take this. I lied and told Blood Ithone I needed to fetch something from my room, so I can’t return empty handed. I also can’t stay any longer. I’m sorry, Braeden.”
“Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who ruined everything.”
“Nonsense. You trained Aurora. You taught her the basics, and now she’s going to practice in every spare moment she can find. You got her started, and that’s more than I could ever do. Thank you, my friend.”
Braeden sighed. “Whatever you say, Gurien.”
“This will blow over. Just wait. We’ll see each other soon.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Gurien smiled and slipped out into the hall. The door clicked behind him. The Kirelms would probably be gone before Evelyn even heard what had happened. She would likely meet them at the gate and urge Ithone to stop, but he wouldn’t. It was too late. Braeden ruined everything even though he only wanted to help a princess protect herself.
He set his chin on the desk and tugged Conversations with a Drenowith close enough that he could read it from this angle. His eyes skimmed the words, but he didn’t pay attention. His thoughts raced ahead to everything that would happen. Evelyn would call a meeting to yell at him until she went hoarse. The other Bloods would probably agree to something stupid in their anger. His life might be in danger, but he doubted it. They needed him to manage the attack on the Stele. He groaned—now he would have to rewrite his plans for that. Everything he designed thus far required Kirelms in the final wave. To simply omit a massive component of his army would render the plan useless.
Braeden eventually gave up on reading and closed his eyes, his cheek resting on the desk. His neck would ache when he woke, but he couldn’t bring himself to go to his room. If he left, he risked meeting someone in the hall. He couldn’t face anyone at the moment, not even a maid.
He needed to get out of Ayavel. He needed to find Kara and take a vacation. He needed to curl up next to her and confess everything. His resolve began to fray. Yes, she needed to train. Yes, she needed to focus. But with every second, his determination to give her space weakened.
His eyelids drooped. He willed them open, but they ignored him. His body relaxed against the desk, and his mind wandered. Perhaps he would just take a nap. When he woke up, he could decide whether or not he would stay.
He reached for his book and used it as a pillow. His arms folded around his face, burying him in the ripped folds of his shirt sleeves. Maybe this chaos would make sense in the morning.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PLANNING
Three hours after Kara spoke with Garrett in her office, she sat at the head of the table in the war room. Garrett leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he glared at the floor. Stone sat at the end of the table, as far from the muse as possible. Despite the drenowith’s earlier threat to kill her mentor if they ever saw each other again, Kara needed Stone’s input on what to do next. Besides, it would have been impossible to make Stone wait outside.
A wooden table filled the room, its massive surface supported by a dozen matching legs with clawed feet. Seventeen chairs circled the table, each filled with a body. A few extra seats waited along the edge of the chamber, ready to be put to use. Swords, daggers, and a myriad of other weapons covered the walls, all of them remnants of Braeden’s first visit to the Vagabond’s treasury. His effort to preserve the blades and rescue them from the loose piles in which they were left turned the war room into an armory.
Sometime during her training, each race within her vagabonds apparently elected three representatives to lead them. Those twelve vagabonds served as her cabinet and would communicate any concerns expressed by the rest of the troops. Those twelve officials sat with Richard, Twin, and Demnug at the table, each with his or her head turned to Kara.
To her left sat the Kirelms—among them, the isen hunter, Remy. He stretched his black wings as he settled into his chair, and Kara suppressed a shudder. Though she understood his reasoning, she couldn’t quite forgive him for the painful way he made her prove who she was when she’d first returned to the village. A shadow of the shattering pain rippled through her bones at the memory. It would take a while to warm up to him.
Beyond Remy sat the Ayavelians. Rieve—the Ayavelian Kara met earlier that day—settled in next to her brother, whose name turned out to be Zimmermann. Kara still hadn’t caught the name of the third Ayavelian, nor the names of the three Lossians who clumped to her right.
When everyone sat down and settled in, Kara leaned forward.
“Let’s start with the latest news. I heard Aislynn is dead. Is that true?” she asked.
Demnug nodded. “Some rumors say she and General Krik eloped, and something went wrong along the way. But more reliable sources say a drenowith killed her out of revenge for what she did to that muse in Ethos.”
Garrett laughed. “If only I’d had the chance. Believe me, I did not kill her.”
“Who do you think did?” Richard asked.
The muse shrugged. “I’m certain she had more than one enemy.”
Kara sighed. “We need to find out how she died, even if we don’t share that information with the other Bloods. But we have a new issue to deal with—Evelyn is Blood now. Because of the way the bloodline was transferred to her, Evelyn will rationalize in much the same way as Aislynn did. Aislynn’s morality will essentially become Evelyn’s conscience, and that’s the real problem.”
Stone told her that once. A bit of Aislynn lived on in her niece, and the thought sent cold dread through Kara’s core and down to her toes.
Richard leaned back. “I didn’t know.”
Kara nodded. “The stone table Aislynn used to give Evelyn the bloodline and, uh”—she shot a quick glance at Garrett—“well, the point is, there’s much about that table we don’t know. The theory is it works like isen do, and a bit of Aislynn’s soul was actually moved into Evelyn. Thus, we should see new similarities between them that didn’t exist before the transfer.”
Twin whistled. “A scary thought.”
“Exactly,” Kara said.
Zimmermann leaned over the table. “Everyone is still in Ayavel—all the Bloods. They meet regularly, even Heir Braeden.”
Kara sat a
little straighter at Braeden’s name. Her gut twisted. Heat flashed in her cheeks. The sudden desire to drop this whole war business burned within her, but she suppressed it with a deep breath.
Garrett crossed his arms. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s dangerous for the other Bloods to be there. Evelyn will monitor everything in her kingdom. There will be no privacy. As long as her home is their safe house, she has almost complete control over the other Bloods.”
Demnug shrugged. “Ethos isn’t safe, as we learned from the Gala. The only safe places to meet are the kingdoms, which will always give one Blood dominance over the others. They probably stay because they don’t fear her or think she’s a threat.”
“That’s a mistake,” Kara said.
“I agree,” Garrett added.
A Lossian leaned forward. “Let’s focus on what we need to do. We have to make ourselves known to them. Kara, the world thinks you disappeared. They don’t know what you’ve become or where you are. A few rumors claim Heir Braeden hid you away from the world, and others say you’re dead. You have to make yourself public again.”
Kara’s heart skipped a beat in fear, but the Lossian was right. She had to prove once and for all that the vagabonds could not be tamed. But to do that, the Bloods would have to respect her. They might even need to fear her a little.
She nodded. “I need to go to Ayavel and interrupt one of their meetings. I won’t wait to be summoned, and I won’t play by their rules. Not initially, at least.”
Richard sighed. “There was a time when I would have disagreed with you, but you’re right. At least with your first impression, you have to make a statement. You have to show no fear. You have to demonstrate your new power.”
“But should she tell them she’s an isen?” Twin asked.
Remy hunched over the table, his wings casting a shadow along the wood. “I believe she should. She may not want to announce her relation to Agneon, but her isen nature would explain her increased ability to use magic. Besides, they will likely know what she is the moment she walks in the door. The isen scent is unmistakable.”
Kara fidgeted in her seat. Everyone seemed to catch the mixed perfume of lilac and pine on her that clung to every isen, but she couldn’t smell it. In fact, she began to wonder if she’d ever smelled it, even on Deidre.
“I don’t think telling them she’s an isen is enough,” Demnug said.
“It’s not,” Kara agreed.
Richard crossed his arms. “We need to show you’re not alone. I think we should tell them you’ve made more vagabonds.”
“But not how many,” Remy added.
“Right,” Richard agreed. “Or if they press for a number, tell them far more than is true. What’s more, I think it’s time for the vagabonds to re-assimilate. Everyone should go back to their kingdoms. We’ll hide in plain sight, ready and waiting for the moment we’re needed.”
“But how will we vagabonds communicate with the others in different kingdoms?” Zimmermann asked from the far end of the table.
Something clicked in the back of Kara’s mind. She grinned. “Richard, when you added those maps of the kingdoms’ lichgates to your Grimoire, they appeared in all the others, right? So what’s stopping us from using pages in the Grimoire to communicate with each other? The books never run out of pages. And all we would have to do to see the most recent note is ask for it.”
Remy nodded. “True. You could communicate with us at any point. But just in case, we should assign vagabonds around you to communicate the message in case you’re detained.”
“I agree,” she said.
Rieve piped up from beside her brother. “I heard vagabonds can’t hear silent commands from their Bloods. Wouldn’t it be an easy way to find us out?”
Kara leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know.”
Someone rested a cold hand on her shoulder. Ice drilled through her skin. She flinched and twisted in the chair, but the first Vagabond’s ghost smiled down at her. Her heart settled, and she cursed under her breath. What an entrance.
“I can answer for you,” the first Vagabond said.
Rieve’s face lit up. Except for Garrett, who scowled at his feet, everyone’s lips parted in awe. Even Remy smiled, and the grin leaked a happiness Kara had never before seen in the stone-faced yakona. Apparently, all of her vagabonds respected the legacy her mentor left behind.
But more importantly, they could see him, too.
The first Vagabond crossed his arms. “In my day, we fabricated a rumor to protect suspected vagabonds. We used our networks to circulate the lie claiming a vagabond couldn’t hear a command from his Blood and was therefore easy to uncover. So when a vagabond was put to the test, they always passed. It kept them alive.”
“Clever!” Richard said.
The first Vagabond grinned.
“So how many of us are there?” Kara asked.
“Ninety eight,” Remy answered.
“Is there a way to make more, even if they don’t have Grimoires?” Richard asked.
Kara glanced up to her mentor. He eyed her. No one spoke. The room quieted. Not even a chair leg scraped along the floor.
His voice echoed in her head, even though his lips didn’t move. “Do you swear never to turn Braeden if I tell you this?”
She nodded. The time for that had come and gone. Braeden knew he would never become a vagabond.
“It’s a complicated process, but I’m willing to teach a select few,” the first Vagabond said.
Kara pointed toward Richard and Twin. “I think those who can’t re-assimilate should be taught how to create vagabonds without the books.”
“What do you mean?” Twin asked.
“Gavin knows I turned you. He knows you’re a vagabond, and the fact that Richard disappeared at the same time suggests he is, too. Gavin will watch you both at every turn. I don’t think you can go back.”
Richard frowned. “You have a point.”
She nodded. “But you can turn more vagabonds while the rest of us go back to the outside world.”
“I’m not sure we should turn more vagabonds,” Remy said.
Demnug grimaced. “There’s not even a hundred of us. We can use all the help we can get.”
Remy shrugged. “I suppose, but every new recruit is a risk our secrets will be leaked to those in power.”
The first Vagabond joined in. “Remy has a point. The more you turn, the less control you have over who knows you exist. Anyone you turn should be chosen with utmost care. Not everyone is fit to be a vagabond. The public cannot know your names.”
Kara set her elbows on the table. “So it’s decided. I’ll go to Ayavel and make it clear the vagabonds are not to be trifled with. I’ll let them know there are more of us, but not how many. Richard and Twin will continue turning vagabonds while the rest re-assimilate. But that doesn’t solve our real problem—making the Bloods listen. Even if they do respect me enough to let me help them end Carden, what happens after? The war will continue. They’ll fight each other. We need a way to keep them from killing each other when they run out of common enemies to hate.”
“Well put,” the first Vagabond said.
“We could make them sign a treaty,” one of the Lossians suggested.
Richard shook his head. “Treaties are easy to break. There’s no one to enforce it but us, and we would run the risk of becoming yet another common enemy.”
Rieve shrugged. “What if we asked them to open their kingdoms to the public? You know, stop hiding the entrances with lichgates and hidden locks?”
Twin nodded. “That would make everyone equally vulnerable. In a way, it would level the playing field.”
Kara grinned. Excitement tickled her fingertips. “And on top of that, we could lock up their Sartori blades.”
Everyone turned and stared at her.
She pressed her point. “Think about it. The Sartori blades are the only weapons that can kill a Blood. Because of the poison embedded in the sword itself, even a Blood
can die from just a scratch. The only antidote must be made from the sword itself, even though I don’t know quite how that works. They’re the ultimate Blood-killing weapon. And if all of the Bloods put their Sartoris away in a vault—a vault none of them controlled—that would be a powerful sign of goodwill. That, coupled with opening their borders, would effectively make everyone equal. It would force a certain level of trust.”
Richard laughed. “It’s insane enough to work.”
“Could we do it?” Demnug asked.
Kara shook her head and smiled, still pleased with the idea. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Where would the vault be?” Remy asked.
Stone grinned. “I believe I can be of use.”
Kara nodded. “Any ideas?”
“A few. I would need to do some research, but you can leave this to me.”
Garrett grimaced. Kara cleared her throat to remind him to play nice, but the muse grumbled under his breath.
Remy knocked once on the table. “We should leave soon.”
“Agreed,” Demnug said.
Kara leaned back. “Let’s have one final dinner together. Tonight. That way, I can explain to everyone what’s going to happen. Besides, it’ll be fun. We won’t get much more of that.”
“Richard and I can organize it,” Twin said.
Richard caught Kara’s eye and frowned. “Are you ready for what you have to do?”
Kara nodded. “More than ever.”
The final dinner sped by too quickly for Kara to fully appreciate it. She spent so long in her training that she never had the chance to truly appreciate her vagabonds. She couldn’t even catch all their names before the night ended, but she would never forget those final moments in the village.
She danced with nearly everyone, which left her feet sore and often riddled with bruises thanks to the less skilled dancers. She laughed and joked with anyone who would tell her a story, and she shared a few of her own. Flick blipped into view every now and again, always darting off toward the next bit of bread or fruit anyone would share with him.