by Boyce, S. M.
“How wise of you.”
“Tell me what my patience bought, Braeden.”
“My title is Heir Braeden or, if you prefer the more formal option, Heir Drakonin.”
Gavin scoffed. “Touché.”
Braeden leaned back in his chair. “I’ve reported on every scouting trip I took, and I should think that’s enough to earn your patience while I wrap up my assessment of the Stele’s weaknesses. I’ve outlined my plan, discussed the strengths of each army with you to better—”
“But you haven’t shown us a real plan,” Gavin snapped.
Braeden frowned. “It’s not so easy. Carden adds new guard towers every day, which suggests he’s shifting his defensive strategy on a regular basis. His builders are working overtime. Judging from the speed with which the walls and defenses expand, I’d say they don’t sleep or break for food. Troop movements don’t seem to have a pattern between one visit and the next. If this were easy, we’d have taken the city by now. But it’s not. It’s near impossible to take this fight to his door in the first place, even without all of these confusing changes. We can’t afford a single mistake. I have to know what I’m doing will work before I lead multiple armies to my father’s front door.”
“Then bring us in on the planning. We need to brainstorm together if this is so hard for you.”
Braeden cursed. “You know full well what I meant. This is easiest for me because I know the kingdom better than any of you. If we all collaborate on the attack strategy from the beginning, we’ll never get anywhere. Nothing will ever be decided. You all can’t even agree on who is in this alliance anymore.”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“Don’t try to derail me. I have a valid point. Do you really think the four of us can collaborate on attack strategy? Everyone will try to outdo each other in what their armies can handle and who will get the most glory. They won’t focus on their actual strengths or weaknesses.”
“So you don’t trust us to do what’s best to win the Stele.”
“Of course not. I don’t like the fact I need you all to win this. If I could do it without you, I would.”
Gavin’s jaw tensed. He focused on something through the window, eyes clear but averted. Neither of them spoke. Braeden scanned the map on his desk, wondering what new Stelian landmark would crop up overnight the next time he visited. He wished he could decipher what Carden was trying to do. He more so wished Gavin would get up and leave.
“When are you scouting next?” Gavin asked.
“Tonight.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Braeden laughed. “Cute. Have you missed spending time with me?”
“It seems like another perspective would help you. I don’t see how it would hurt.”
“You’re the only Hillsidian royal. If you die, your people die. Why would you risk yourself to babysit me?”
Gavin rubbed his face. “You’re just being stubborn at this point. I’m offering to help because this shouldn’t be a one-man task. I guessed you would be more pleasant and open-minded, considering that Kara’s back.”
Braeden crossed his arms and turned to look out the window.
“Wait, has she already left?”Gavin asked.
“I figured Evelyn already knew and would tell you first, of all people.”
“I miss the days when she did, but we don’t speak much anymore outside of council meetings. She won’t know I’m going with you on this scouting trip. I will tell only my generals.”
“I never said you were going. What’s this volunteering of yours really about, Gavin? There’s no reason for you to come except to get in my way. Iyra’s fast. You won’t keep up.”
“I have Mother’s wolf Mastif with me. We’ll likely outrun you.”
Braeden smirked and sat back. “Do I hear a challenge?”
“Perhaps.” A grin twitched at the corner of Gavin’s mouth.
Braeden laughed, and the Hillsidian Blood followed suit. Where had this come from? They hadn’t reverted to the brothers they used to be, but it was the second time Gavin had shown him a sign their old friendship could revive itself. Gavin once admitted he still loved Evelyn but couldn’t act on it, and Braeden hadn’t known what to say. The moment sped by, blipping in and out of existence before he could act on it. But now, he had a chance. A choice. This was Gavin’s version of a truce—or, at least, the beginnings of one.
It would help to have an extra pair of eyes to dissect the never-ending changes within the Stele. Though Braeden didn’t enjoy the idea of showing Gavin his future kingdom, they wouldn’t see enough on this trip to give the Hillsidian Blood an incredible advantage. When the Stele belonged to Braeden, he would lock the forgotten lichgate as a precaution against unwanted visits from Hillside.
Braeden leaned forward and made eye contact. “If I let you come, know I’m willingly showing you my future home. I’ll rule there soon, same as you rule Hillside. I’ve seen your kingdom. You’ll see mine. I’m offering this to you, and you’re not tricking me into giving this information away. Do you understand?”
Gavin raised an eyebrow. “You lived in Hillside for twelve years. A few days in the Stele isn’t an even playing field.”
Braeden laughed. “I wasn’t offering one.”
“So far, I don’t hear a cost. You show me the Stele while I follow you around.”
“The cost is you finally act like the Blood you are, not the Heir you were. You’ve experienced more pain and loss than a man should, but you’ve wallowed in it. It stops now. No more manipulating Kara. No more fighting me. You and I have a mutual enemy—my father. We kill him. We make peace. We move on with our lives.”
Braeden held his breath. This could be a wild success or a dismal failure. They hadn’t even left yet, and he’d already pushed the boundaries of this unspoken truce. But he had to. No use exposing the Stele to a potential enemy if he didn’t have to.
To his credit, Gavin laughed. “Let’s see how good those secrets are first.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SECOND CHANCES
Thanks to Flick’s teleporting ability, it took less than an hour for Kara to reach the Rose Cliffs. She stood on the edge, eyeing the mile-or-more drop to the valley below. The sky tumbled above a beige mountain range on the horizon, darkening with a storm. A hint of lightning flashed in the distance. Behind her, a tangled forest hovered near the cliff edge, leaving a twenty-foot space between its roots and the drop off. Thorns littered the underbrush except for along a dirt path that curved into the trees.
She hesitated, listening for the crunch of boots along the soil. A bird chirped, and something yelped in the woods. Surprisingly, no one waited for her on the cliff.
Perhaps they didn’t know how quickly she could travel—not everyone knew what Flick could do. She preferred it that way, but she couldn’t waste time pretending she required a mount to get places. With tensions rising between the Bloods and her promise to return to Braeden in three days, she had to make every second count.
She summoned the Grimoire from the stone in her pendant to check for updates from the Kirelm capital. The book solidified and dropped into her hands. The cover popped open. Just as she hoped, its pages opened to another note from Remy, dated for today.
Remy—Kirelm
Kara has arrived on the outskirts of Kirelm. General Gurien has been sent alone to fetch her. She should summon a mount and be ready to leave.
That isen hunter was so controlling.
Kara mumbled under her breath and summoned the Grimoire’s griffon—an ancient creature that used to belong to Kirelm. It had taken a liking to the first Vagabond and now lived in the Grimoire, serving those who needed it. Ithone hadn’t liked that very much, but she figured a griffon was a more welcome sight than her demonic black dragon.
Silver dust sprang from the book in her hands, twisting into a small tornado. It touched down on the grass beside her and spread, blocking out the forest behind it until the funnel took on the towering shape
of her griffon. With a poof, the dust dissolved into the white feathers and gold fur of her pet. It tilted its head, black eyes locked on her as it nudged her shoulder in welcome.
She patted its head. “Hey, buddy.”
Kara sat back against a tree and gazed into the clear sky while the griffon stared off into the distance. Though the storm still brewed miles away, no clouds dotted the blue sky over the cliff. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the late summer air. She didn’t even know what day it was—or what month. It didn’t really matter anymore.
“Vagabond,” a man said.
Flick purred. Kara peeked through one eye to see General Gurien standing about ten feet away. He arched his back, shoulders broad and proud as ever. His white wings framed his body, the glowing feathers reflecting sunlight into Kara’s eyes. She squinted. Heavy bags lined his eyes, purple and several layers deep.
Kara frowned. “You look exhausted, General.”
He nodded. “It has been a trying time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged. “Blood Ithone and Heir Aurora can’t stand each other anymore. Two hot-tempered royals are hard to handle.”
She sighed. “This will be fun.”
“We should leave. You have a meeting with Blood Ithone this evening.”
Kara nodded and stood. The griffon knelt for her to get on, so she swung her leg over without another word. The creature stood, and Gurien took off into the air. Her griffon followed. Flick purred louder in her ear.
She and Gurien traveled in silence, and Kara let her mount follow Gurien’s twists and turns. She didn’t even pay attention to their path. Last time she tried, they had flown for what seemed like forever. She’d lost all track of time around the same time her body went numb from the windchill.
As the wind whistled past her ear, she took slow breaths to calm her nerves. She would have ten minutes to convince Ithone to forgive Braeden and return to the alliance. Probably more like five minutes, really. She doubted Ithone had become any more patient since he’d come home. He would probably rush the meeting. She doubted he would actually listen, either. Maybe she should try to find him sooner and speak with him alone.
Gurien angled to the right. It would be great to talk to the general and get his advice. Braeden trusted him now, which meant the Kirelm soldier had to be a good person. But she just couldn’t trust him with the knowledge that she had vagabonds inside Kirelm. He was, after all, under Ithone’s control. He may even still be loyal to his Blood, regardless of that power. She couldn’t risk it.
Light glinted off something in the distance. A spire broke through the clouds as they neared. A second followed, as did a third. Within seconds, dozens of silver towers emerged from behind tufts of pink cloud.
Either they took a shortcut this time, or her griffon was much faster than she’d thought. She lost herself to her thoughts, but that couldn’t account for how quickly they arrived.
The kingdom hadn’t changed from her first visit. A towering wall surrounded the outer edges of the city, a mesh of wires branching from the wall to create a thin dome that arched over the entire kingdom. A gate opened to welcome them, even though they were still about a hundred feet away. A second wall and gate protected the castle and the nicest homes in the city. She could barely make out the dwellings within this inner wall, but the castle spires dominated the floating landscape. A second wire mesh dome encompassed this section as well.
The first gate neared at an alarming rate. Adrenaline shot through Kara’s veins in bursts that dried her throat. She held her breath. Gurien dove through the opening, and Kara’s griffon followed close on his heels. They tore through the streets, the city’s gray buildings a blur in Kara’s peripheral vision.
The second gate neared within seconds, its panels swinging open only a moment before Gurien and Kara reached it. The general and the griffon leaned into a turn, following the paved bricks of a road as the street sloped upward toward the castle’s main doors.
Gurien slowed and landed on the front steps with practiced ease. The griffon followed suit, its claws scraping the stone road as it touched down. Flick’s nails dug a little deeper into Kara’s shoulder after the landing, and she almost nodded in agreement. She couldn’t quite relax after such a fast-paced entrance, either.
Kara’s knees shook from the adrenaline still pumping through her, but she forced herself to dismount. Time was not on her side.
She patted her griffon’s neck, wishing it away with a whisper. With another poof, the creature dissolved into dust. Though the silver haze settled on the air, she took comfort knowing her pet had actually returned to her Grimoire. She could summon him again any time.
Gurien trotted up the steps, back arched like a king. Ten soldiers lined the steps, one to each stair. Every man saluted the general as he passed and held the salute as she followed him inside.
She and Gurien walked through the castle’s hallways at a pace that left her out of breath. She resisted the constant urges to gasp for air and instead forced herself to focus on the path Gurien took. If she needed to escape, she would at least know the way out—whatever good that would do her, considering the guards at the entrance.
“You have two hours until your meeting with Blood Ithone,” Gurien eventually said.
His voice came out even, as if this was his usual pace. It made Kara want to gasp for breath even more.
He continued. “A change of clothes has been provided, and a hot bath is waiting. Please be ready in an hour. Food will be sent up, then, and you can ask me questions while we wait for the summoning.”
Kara nodded. She wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to interrogate someone who knew as much as Gurien. She would have to think of a clever way to ask him about the kidnapping without him realizing she knew about it.
Gurien stopped in the hall, feet planted on the carpeted floor. Kara nearly ran into him. She slid a little on the rug but managed to stop in time.
He twisted the handle on a door to his left. It swung inward. Light splintered through the drawn curtains of a window, casting rays of sunlight onto a wooden bed with a white comforter. A matching wooden desk sat by the window, and a similar dresser filled much of the opposite wall. A white bathtub peeked through a partially opened door to the right.
Most notably, a silver dress lay across the bed. The iridescent fabric glittered in a sunbeam from the window.
“Hear me out, Vagabond,” Gurien said.
Kara sighed. This again. The last time she visited, they insisted she wear a dress because she was a woman. Aurora warned her that the dress would undermine Kara’s power—all Ithone and his generals would see was a little girl with a book, not the powerful Vagabond she was. She had refused to wear it, forcing Gurien to compromise and give her something else. Not wearing that dress had probably been the spark that ruined her reputation in Kirelm and cost her any respect they might have otherwise shown.
She wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
“It’s fine, Gurien,” she said.
“What? Really? You’ll wear it?”
She nodded. “I apologize for making a fuss last time. It was rude.”
His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips parted in shock. Kara grinned.
“Thank you,” he eventually said.
“You’re welcome. I should probably get ready.”
“Of course. Please leave your old clothes on the bed. A maid will wash them for you so they’re clean when you leave.”
Kara just nodded again. He knew as well as she did there were no plans to let her leave. Her clothes would probably be burned.
“Thank you so much,” he said with a sigh. It came out slow and steady, like a breath of relief.
He left, and the door shut without another moment’s hesitation. He probably didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind.
Kara approached the dress to get a better look. Before she could pick it up, though, Flick jumped down onto the bed and curled up on a pillow.<
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She sighed and headed to the bathroom. She should just get ready. She couldn’t afford Ithone hating her, so she had to play nice. Staring at the dress would only make her question her choice.
Forty minutes later, Kara sat on the bed with Flick in her lap. He purred as she ran her fingers through his fur. She’d bathed, dressed, and even fiddled with her hair for ten minutes before giving up and letting it flow over her shoulders.
As requested, she left her clothes on the bed before she took her bath. And sure enough, they were gone when she came out. At least they left her satchel, though they probably rifled through it during her bath. It was a painfully obvious way to control her, but she wanted to oblige. Good faith and all.
As much as she hated to admit it, the dress flattered her in every way. Its low neckline plunged a little farther than she would have liked, but it showcased her necklaces nicely. She still wore both pieces: her Grimoire pendant and the necklace Aurora gave her all those weeks ago. The dress caressed her skin like silk, but the fabric stretched and shrank as needed. A slit in the skirt exposed her left leg up to the thigh when she sat, so she might have to stand when Gurien finally came back.
A few men yelled from the grass outside. Their voices blurred together, muffled by the closed window. She shifted Flick into her arms and peeked through the curtains. Kirelms ran by on the road a few stories below. Some shouted orders, others saluted.
Something boomed in the distance. Its shattering echo reminded Kara of thunder—or maybe a bomb.
Heavy footsteps ran through the hallway just outside her door. More Kirelms shouted, their voices louder as they passed her room.
Kara took a deep breath. This couldn’t be good.
She set Flick on her shoulder and ran to the door. Another surge of adrenaline pumped through her and pulsed in her fingers. Something had gone wrong, and for once it had nothing to do with her. If it did, they would be surrounding her room, and she would probably already be in chains.
She twisted the handle and flung her door open. Soldiers ran by, racing for a staircase on the far end of the hallway.