by Boyce, S. M.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” she whispered.
“I tried, but I couldn’t get through to you. The sheer amount of power you harnessed trapped me inside the Grimoire. I couldn’t move the entire time. I could only watch. I even tried to stop you from taking off the wrist guard, but you silenced me. I don’t think you even realized you did it. It was like something else controlled you the entire time.”
The cool comforter soothed the burning ache in her body, but tears pooled in her eyes. She wanted to apologize for letting him, Stone, and her long-dead grandfather down, but it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing could undo what she’d done.
Her mentor sighed. “You didn’t disappoint me, Kara. You did what had to be done. I see it clearly now. You had no choice. For what it’s worth, I’m in this with you. Aurora is with you. Braeden will be, too, if you choose to tell him. You’re not alone.”
A ball formed in her throat. Braeden—what would he think of her if she told him how many innocent people she killed?
“Get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need me,” the first Vagabond said.
She didn’t say anything. The cold hand disappeared. She wished she could go back to Ayavel right then, but her resolve crashed around her. She cried into Flick’s fur. Taking off the wrist guard cost ten thousand people their lives. People she never met dissolved into dust the moment her attack touched them. Children. Mothers. Families. Pets. Despite whatever good it may have done for Aurora and Gurien and even the Kirelm people overall, Kara had ignored every warning her grandfather left for her when she took off the leather cuff. She wasn’t ready for that kind of power.
An icy wave of fear raced through her. It didn’t matter if she was ever ready. She would never, ever take off the bracelet again. Nothing—and no one—was worth losing control of herself. She was already a mass-murderer. She wouldn’t repeat that mistake.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
LOST
Braeden’s skin burned. He itched, as if a thousand spiders bit him at once and wouldn’t let go. An ache seeped through every muscle. He tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. Bones cracked. Pressure weighed on his chest, seeping through every pore in his body. He tried to move, but his fingers wouldn’t twitch. He couldn’t even open his eyes.
He slowly lost all sense of his limbs. The sensation in his fingers faded away. The pain in the soles of his feet dissolved. Numbness wound its way up his legs and arms, seeping toward the gaping wound in his chest. He craved the apathy. He wished it would hurry and dull the pain. Flickers of agony pricked at his gut like hundreds of needles stabbing him again and again.
A chill pooled in the wound. He took a deep breath, but still couldn’t open his eyes. Relief washed through him. The numbness stopped. A cool wave rippled through his veins, washing out the pain. He sighed and smiled—or tried to, anyway.
Voices filtered through his dulled senses. Men. A few cursed. Others spoke his name, though he couldn’t understand anything else. One voice called to him, familiar and louder than the rest. It had a name, this voice, but he couldn’t remember it.
Hot water dribbled down his neck. Steam pooled in his ear. He shuddered. Cold linen pressed against his forehead. He sighed again.
A searing pain cracked against his temple and splintered through his neck. He screamed. His muscles tensed. The pain worsened. His entire body roasted. Every vein boiled. He screamed until he couldn’t hear himself anymore. He thrashed, trying to shake whatever attacked him, but every movement amplified the pain.
Tears rolled down his face. He couldn’t take this. It was worse than anything Carden subjected him to in life. It broke him, right to his core.
Darkness pulled at him. It tugged him under, down toward the agony breaking his body. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t shake the pain. And eventually, he couldn’t move. The agony wrapped around his limbs, binding him to whatever attacked.
He searched for the white light—the one that saved him from Carden’s torture the last time he visited the Stele’s infamous prisons. Kara would be there, waiting for him. She would shield him from the pain until the worst passed. He could survive if he found her.
His mind sifted through his shifting thoughts, searching for the white light. Nothing came to him. No one stepped in. His searching became panic. His memories faded. And right before he lost himself to the searing pain, he screamed her name.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
THE HERO
A steady pulse beat in Kara’s ear.
Da-thump. Da-thump. Da-thump.
Something warm pushed against her chin. Blades of fur tickled her neck. She smiled, half-awake, as a wet nose burrowed against her jaw. She laughed and pulled away, her eyes snapping open. Flick batted her face with his tail and chirped.
Kara glanced around the room. It took a moment to remember where she was, but the realization crushed her.
Kirelm.
Her smile faded. She curled her head back into the pillow and pulled the blanket up to her neck. She didn’t want to think about the guilt or murders or her conversation with Aurora. She just wanted to go back to sleep.
A wispy figure bled into view by the window, the trails of his cloak turning solid as she watched. The ancient ghost of the first Vagabond stared into the bright sky outside, a hood over his head, his arms crossed.
Kara’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know what to say.
He turned. “Are you all right?”
She hesitated but ultimately shook her head.
He nodded. “It’s understandable. The situation is hardly fair. Though I’m heartbroken at how many were killed, Aurora is right. If the truth got out, you would never again have a chance of establishing peace in Ourea. You would be hated, despite however much you were trying to help.”
Kara burrowed her face into her pillow.
“Are you going to lie in bed all day?” he asked.
“Sounds tempting, actually.”
“You can’t hide from this. Guilt or not, you have to accept what you’ve done and find a way to move on.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, Vagabond. I’m just trying to process it.”
The wispy ghost sat on the edge of her bed. “You’re right to do so. Grief is part of life, and you can’t deny it. The modest acknowledge their mistakes. The wise both confess to their failures and vow to never repeat them. But it takes a strong warrior to forgive herself as well.”
She hugged her knees and nodded. She didn’t figure she fit in any of those categories at the moment.
He smiled. “You’re all three. Just give yourself time.”
“Thanks.” She forced a smile.
“It’s the truth, or I wouldn’t say it.”
Her grin became real, and she rubbed the Grimoire pendant around her neck out of habit. The smile faded ever so slightly.
“I guess I should find out what I missed while I was asleep,” she said.
He nodded. “I’m sure there are dozens of messages waiting for you.”
“I can’t even tell them the truth, can I? The other vagabonds?” she asked.
The first Vagabond hesitated and turned to look out the window again. After a few silent moments, he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. If any of them defected and told the public, your reputation would be ruined. This burden is yours alone. Well, ours.”
Kara leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes. She forced herself to swallow the ball in her throat. Crying wouldn’t do any good.
She summoned the Grimoire, its blue dust leaving a glow on her skin as it took its solid form. She set it on her knees and left it closed. The words to her confession were already forming in her mind, but she would never be able to release it. She wanted to tell the unfiltered truth—all of it. Everything. The guilt. The loss. The terrifying glee that came with knowing she could kill. The desire to end a life. The loss of all sanity in her moments of absolute power. But most of all, she wanted written evidence of her vow to never again succumb to power
she couldn’t control.
She took a deep breath, suppressed the desire to absolve herself, and opened the cover. The pages sprang apart, flipping to the messages her vagabonds left her overnight. With no way to vent the guilt churning in the pit of her stomach, she settled in to read.
An hour later, Kara stared at the open Grimoire. She still couldn’t quite process what her vagabonds had told her.
Overnight, Kara had become a hero. The kingdom of Kirelm apparently already had a life-sized marble statue underway. It would go up in an empty patch of grass in one of the public parks for all to see.
Aurora sent out a notice the day after the attack explaining the assault and subsequent rescue to the other kingdoms. At first, the notice had been met with silent shock—only Bloods had ever survived a battle with another Blood. Yet here was the Vagabond, a girl not even raised in Ourea, nearly killing one of the most powerful kings to ever rule the Stele.
According to her vagabonds, the Bloods of each kingdom learned about the attacks in a council meeting with a few advisers present. Gavin laughed. Frine smiled. But Evelyn stood without a word and left. No one saw her reaction.
Details of Kara’s battle with Carden spread like wildfire. According to a Hillsidian vagabond, drinking songs had already emerged in her honor in the farthest cities from the capital. In Losse, tapestries of the battle had already been ordered to cover walls in wealthy homes. Ayavelians prepared a banquet to honor her return. And in Kirelm, maids vied for any excuse to visit her room and see the now-famous fighter.
Kara’s stomach churned with disgust. She didn’t deserve any of this.
Her ghostly mentor had disappeared sometime while she was reading, most likely to give her privacy. She toyed with asking him about his heyday as the Vagabond—had the yakona ever fawned over him? Legend remembered him as a hero. Perhaps he would know how to handle the attention.
Someone knocked on the door.
Kara pulled the covers tighter around her waist and wished away the Grimoire. It dissolved once more into blue dust and drifted into her pendant.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened to reveal a thin Kirelm woman with a black braid that fell down her back. Her left arm hung in a sling, and her right balanced a silver tray with a cover on it. The Kirelm smiled as she made eye contact.
A twang of recognition shot through Kara. This was Elana, Aurora’s lady in waiting and a vagabond to boot. The last time Kara saw Elana, the girl was curled at Carden’s feet, bloody and broken from his torture.
With small flourishes of her free hand, Elana set the tray on the desk and shut the door. The moment the door clicked shut, the Kirelm raced to the bed and slipped her right arm around Kara in a tight hug.
Elana sobbed. “You saved my life. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I protect my own.” Kara grinned at her fellow vagabond.
“You protected us all! Everyone is dying to meet you. I was amazed Blood Aurora let me in to see you.”
Blood Aurora. The title fit her.
Elana continued. “After the Stelians attacked, one of them somehow discovered I was close to Blood Aurora. When I wouldn’t tell them anything, they dragged me into the throne room. I nearly fainted when I saw Blood Carden waiting for me. I knew I would die. I simply knew it. Legend is no one but royalty can survive his torture. By the time you arrived, I had already resigned myself to death. And then you appeared, my saving grace. I couldn’t believe it.”
Kara tensed. “How—well, what did I look like?”
Elana’s smile fell. “Let’s just say I’m glad you’re on our side.”
“Please. You can tell me.”
The Kirelm sat on the edge of the bed, her wings flowing over the comforter. “Green sparks shot along your body. You had this look of...I don’t even know how to describe it. Calm? But you weren’t calm. You looked wild. And when you sneered...”
The girl cleared her throat and wouldn’t lift her gaze from the floor.
Kara leaned in. “Please, Elana.”
Elana took a deep breath. “When you sneered, I saw evil in your eyes. It was clear you could kill anything in that moment. Your hair almost floated around you—it was incredible. With your bare feet and ripped dress, I thought you had perhaps gone insane. I mean, you had to be unhinged to take on Carden. Or so I thought. No one expected you to win.”
Kara sighed and rested her head against the headboard. Evil? She hadn’t expected that. A hand on her knee pulled her attention back to her fellow vagabond.
Elana smiled again. “I know you aren’t evil. And like I said, it’s a blessing you’re on our side and not his.”
Kara laughed. “I guess so.”
“Blood Aurora said she will be up shortly to check on you. But if you need anything, please let me know. I’ll stay nearby. Blood Aurora asked me to care for you while you’re here.”
“Thank you. I won’t be here much longer, though. I need to go back to Ayavel.”
Elana frowned. “So soon?”
“Afraid so.”
“May I ask why? The Kirelms want you to stay. We’re preparing a celebration to last for weeks!”
“The war didn’t stop, Elana. Carden will want revenge, and he won’t wait for us to finish our party first.”
Elana stared again at the floor, the fingers of her free hand toying with her sling.
“I guess I hoped we could relax for awhile. Take a break,” she admitted.
Kara rubbed her neck. “We’ll celebrate when Carden is dead. For now, we can’t afford to lose focus.”
“I suppose so.”
Elana stood and brushed off her skirt, avoiding eye contact the whole time. She retrieved the platter from the desk—Kara had forgotten about it—and set it on the bed.
Kara sighed. “I don’t mean we can’t enjoy life, Elana. I just don’t want him to catch us off guard again.”
“No, you’re right. I simply got caught up in the moment. I understand. But know this—celebration or not, you’re my hero. You always will be.”
Kara’s chest tightened. She wasn’t sure how to reply. A thank you wouldn’t quite suffice, but she didn’t deserve that kindness, either.
Before Kara could react, Elana bowed and ducked out of the room. The door shut with a click. That familiar guilt settled into Kara’s stomach, killing her appetite. She nudged the silver plate away with her toe as silence settled over the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
RETURN
After a bath and a clean change of clothes, Kara’s hunger returned with a vengeance. It took all of ten minutes to empty the silver plate of fruits and cheeses Elana had brought in—a thankful thing, considering someone knocked on the door not two minutes after she finished.
Kara crossed to the entry and opened it, only to find Aurora standing in the hallway. The young queen waited on the threshold with her hands behind her back and a thin smile on her face.
“May I come in?” the queen asked.
Kara stepped aside. “Of course.”
“Elana tells me you need to leave as soon as possible. Is the rumor true?”
“Yes.”
Aurora nodded. “Fair enough. It might take longer to join you than I originally thought. Moving the city is taking more energy than anticipated.”
Kara sighed. “Will the Kirelms be upset if I leave now? I heard they were planning a celebration and—”
Aurora laughed. “If you never stop a Kirelm’s celebration, it will last for years. Don’t feel obligated to stay. My people can celebrate even without the guest of honor.”
Kara chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The queen turned to gaze out the window, and her eyes went out of focus. For a moment, the conversation died while Kara examined the Blood before her. In the past, the kings and queens of Ourea had sacrificed peace treaties and even their soldiers to keep Kara in their homes. They always wanted to keep her power close, especially when they didn’t yet know what she could
do. She had been kidnapped, held hostage, and nearly killed.
But the tides had finally turned. The yakona people actually liked her—for now. She could protect herself for the first time in her tenure as the Vagabond. Where she would have once feared what Aurora might say next, Kara figured she could probably handle whatever came her way.
Movement in her peripheral vision broke Kara’s reverie.
Aurora smiled. “You’ve always been so obstinate. I never fully understood why.”
Kara shrugged. “I didn’t want to be swept aside, I guess. I wanted to be heard.”
“I understand. I already see you changing, though. I almost didn’t believe it when I saw you wearing the necklace I gave you at the Gala.”
The queen nodded to Kara’s chest, and Kara reached for the pendant. She toyed with the golden wires, still not sure what the symbol meant. Part of her didn’t care—Aurora gave it to her as a sign of peace. She could respect that.
“I guess I grew up a bit,” Kara said.
“We both have, I suppose. I never thought I would say this, but we might even be friends someday.”
Kara grinned. “Stranger things have happened.”
Aurora cleared her throat. “So will you need an escort to take you back to Ayavel?”
“I should be fine on my own as long as there isn’t a lichgate between here and the Rose Cliffs.”
Aurora laughed. “No such thing exists.”
“I should start packing, then.”
“If you would like to leave, then by all means you are free to go. I won’t be far behind, and I promise to meet you in Ayavel soon. For now, please take care of yourself. And Vagabond”—Aurora set a hand on Kara’s shoulder—“you are the hero everyone claims you to be. Please know it. You did the right thing.”
Kara tensed, regret barring her from believing the compliment. “Thank you.”
The queen smiled and left without another word, much like Elana.
Kara sat on the bed with a sigh. No matter what Aurora said, she couldn’t bring herself to believe she was a hero. Heroes didn’t murder thousands of people and lie about it. Cowards did that.