Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga

by Boyce, S. M.

  She cleared her throat in a failed attempt to get rid of the urge to cry. Leaving would make all the difference. As soon as she got out of Kirelm, she wouldn’t have the constant reminder of her miserable failure. That was the hope, at least.

  After one hour, eight teleportations, and a hearty welcome from the Ayavelians, Kara sat in the same war room she’d set on fire. She twiddled her thumbs in the empty chamber as she waited for Evelyn. Apparently, the Blood wanted to speak to Kara. Alone.

  Kara shuddered involuntarily.

  Flick purred from his place in her lap. She scratched his ear, and he twitched in his sleep. The little beast could sleep anywhere. She envied that.

  Her packed bag sat in the chair next to her. A guard had offered to take it to an empty room, but it held the necklace Aurora had given her. She didn’t want to risk the necklace sprouting legs and walking off. She had also packed the red dress Aurora left for her, though she doubted she would ever wear it. Most of the social gatherings in her near future would involve killing someone.

  The door creaked open.

  Kara turned in time to see Evelyn slip in. Sunlight glinted off of the queen’s iridescent skin, casting rainbows of color along the table’s surface. The young woman smiled, but her eyes narrowed.

  A forced smile. Great.

  “Welcome back,” Evelyn said.

  “Thank you. I’ve missed Ayavel,” Kara lied.

  “How was your trip?”

  “Besides the Stelian attack on Kirelm? Lovely.”

  Evelyn grimaced. “Yes, tell me about that.”

  “Blood Aurora already sent a notice about it.” Kara was careful to use Aurora’s full title. She needed to get used to it.

  “Those notices never contain everything. Tell me what really happened.”

  “I would, but I have nothing to add.” Kara smiled. She’d gotten good at lying.

  “If Blood Carden was truly as near-death as the letter claimed, he would never have had the energy to destroy so much of the city below. Something is missing from the story.”

  Kara’s hand tensed in her lap. Flick batted her wrist, and the movement distracted her from the panic shooting through her chest. She took a slow breath, hoping with all her heart that she could keep a straight face.

  “He wounded me—shot me back into the castle wall. I hit my head and blacked out. I believe Gurien saw him attack the village, so perhaps you should ask the general instead.”

  For a second, Evelyn sneered. The expression slipped through what had to be a carefully sewn mask, because the queen relaxed her face an instant later. It happened so quickly that Kara almost didn’t believe she’d seen the ugly snicker in the first place. Almost.

  “At least the Kirelms are safe now,” Kara said, trying to change the subject.

  Evelyn set her fingers together and leaned back. She stared out the window without answering.

  Kara leaned closer. “You know, you almost seem disappointed.”

  The queen laughed. “How so?”

  “You don’t hide your expressions as well as you seem to think. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re disappointed I’m back.”

  Evelyn caught Kara’s eye, and the queen’s body stilled until she seemed like a statue. Her beautiful face froze, the eyes hardening until Kara had to do everything in her power to suppress a shudder from running down to her toes. She met Evelyn’s gaze. The Ayavelian couldn’t intimidate her. Not anymore.

  Someone knocked on the door. A muffled voice drifted through the wood. Before either Kara or Evelyn could get up, the visitor knocked again. And again.

  “What is it?” Evelyn snapped.

  The door swung open, probably from some silent command of Evelyn’s. Kara flinched as it slammed against the wall.

  An Ayavelian man stood in the hall, his hand frozen as if about to knock on the door again. He cleared his throat and set his hands behind his back, but he tensed. His eyes darted to Kara, and however often he returned his gaze to the queen to address her, he still peeked back.

  Wait a minute.

  He was one of her vagabonds. Zimmermann. He’d sat in on her final meeting in the village, the same day she managed to keep Garrett from killing Stone. She groaned inwardly. Time flew by too fast. That all seemed like ages ago.

  “Speak, soldier,” Evelyn commanded with another grimace.

  “I’m afraid Heir Braeden has been hurt. He’s not well. I thought you and the Vagabond would want to see to him, my Blood.”

  Panic shot straight to Kara’s core. A chill swept through her. For a moment, she couldn’t even breathe.

  Kara held Flick tighter. “What happened?”

  “He and Blood Gavin were ambushed on their way back to Ayavel from a reconnaissance mission to the Stele.”

  “Is Blood Gavin well?” Evelyn asked.

  “Yes. He wasn’t harmed.”

  The queen let out the tiniest of sighs and relaxed ever so slightly. Kara wanted to hurl a ball of fire at her.

  Kara shot to her feet. “Please take me to him.”

  Zimmermann nodded. “Of c—”

  “We’re not done, Vagabond,” Evelyn said.

  Kara didn’t bother hiding her own sneer of disgust. “We are now.”

  She grabbed her bag, set Flick on her shoulder, and nodded to Zimmermann. The soldier hesitated, but ultimately turned down the hall and led her away.

  A flicker of doubt burned in her gut, but she didn’t falter. Evelyn would have kept her there, using Braeden’s health to unsettle her as the queen continued her interrogation. It didn’t seem like there was much compassion left in the girl at all.

  When Kara first returned to Ayavel after her time in the village, she sensed something off about Evelyn. Something had changed for the worse. That same concern flooded through her as she stormed after Zimmermann as fast as she could, but soon even that couldn’t hold a candle to her dread.

  Braeden healed instantly. The only thing powerful enough to seriously wound him was a Sartori—and that was a death sentence.

  Somewhere in the distance, Braeden screamed. Kara’s heart jumped into her throat. His yell echoed along the walls of the Ayavelian palace. Zimmermann flinched, pausing at the cry.

  Before Kara could blink, a loud crack tore through the hallway. The world around her shifted, and she appeared in Braeden’s room. Flick must have felt her panic, too. He cooed from his place on her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek.

  Braeden lay on the bed, yelling. Sweat covered his brow and soaked through his clothes. Four Hillsidian soldiers held him to the mattress, one to each of his limbs, but they couldn’t keep him from writhing out of their grips.

  White sparks shot along his body. Gray flame burst from his skin here and there, torching the threads of the soldiers’ clothes. A guard’s beard caught on fire and went up in smoke.

  “What are you doing? Let him go!” Kara threw her bag against the wall, ready to pry the soldiers off if she had to.

  “They can’t, Kara,” someone said from behind her.

  Gavin sat in a desk chair she hadn’t noticed before, though only splinters remained of the desk it belonged to. The center sank inward, cleaved in half as if someone had been thrown onto it.

  “Braeden did that,” Gavin said with a nod to the table.

  “Don’t even get me started on you—”

  Gavin raised his hands in a gentle surrender. “They’re protecting him, Kara. I promise. He might throw himself out the window by accident. He threw himself into the desk here, and that’s why we tried to get him on the bed. He can’t control himself right now.”

  “Tell me what happened!”

  “A Stelian ran a suicide attack on him with my Sartori. Braeden was cut. I gave him the antidote.”

  “Then why is he still in pain?”

  Gavin sighed. “I don’t know. This started a minute ago. He was quiet after the antidote, so I brought him back. But this—this has to be something else. I did everything right.”

  Braeden
screamed again.

  “Gavin!” Kara pleaded.

  “There’s nothing else I can do.”

  “How do I know you even gave him the antidote?”

  “I—”

  Braeden suddenly quieted. The guards pushed his limbs into the bed, probably getting ready for another round, but Braeden didn’t move.

  Kara shooed one of the guards away so she could kneel beside the Stelian prince she’d grown to love. His brows creased in pain. His breathing slowed. She reached for his wrist to check for a pulse. Steady. A little too fast, but evening out.

  A long line traced up his torso from his left hip to his right shoulder. Dark green goo stuck to the skin, hiding everything beneath it. She’d never seen anything like it before. All things considered, it was probably the antidote.

  Gavin was probably telling the truth, but Kara couldn’t quite bring herself to trust him with something as important as Braeden’s life.

  “You can leave,” Gavin said to the guards.

  The soldiers backed away from the bed. Within seconds, the door opened and shut. The room settled into the sound of Braeden breathing.

  After a moment, Gavin knelt beside her. “He was attacked over twenty minutes ago. I truly gave him the antidote, Kara. He would be dead by now if I hadn’t.”

  Kara checked again for Braeden’s pulse. Steady. She let out a shaky sigh of relief. Still, she needed to be sure. She needed to know. Perhaps she could summon the Grimoire, ask it what the antidote looked like, or—

  Braeden’s fingers tightened around her hand.

  She examined his face. His eyes flickered open—though not together. He couldn’t seem to get them to work. He fought for a second until his lids cooperated.

  Braeden caught her attention through half-raised slits and smiled. “Missed you.”

  She laughed and leaned closer. “Missed you, too.”

  He closed his eyes. Flick chirped and jumped onto the bed, trotting up to the prince’s pillow. The little creature curled up right by Braeden’s head and nuzzled his hair.

  Gavin leaned his elbows on the bed, still kneeling. “I think he’ll be fine, but we can take shifts watching him.”

  “You can come and go if you want. I’m not leaving until he wakes up.”

  “We still don’t know what happened. He shouldn’t have had the second episode of...whatever it was.”

  “That’s not typical?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Did you give him the antidote in time?”

  The young king didn’t answer.

  “Gavin!”

  “Bloods, Kara, will you ever use my title?”

  “Does that really matter right now? Did you give the antidote to him in time or not?”

  Gavin sighed. “I think so. I don’t honestly know.”

  “Did you not have access to the Sartori in time? How did you even get it back?”

  “Blood Carden gave my Sartori to one of his elite guards so the soldier could kill Braeden. They seemed to know he’s been visiting, but I think they expected him to be alone. If I hadn’t been there, he would have died.”

  “But you had the sword back. You could have healed him instantly, right?”

  Gavin rubbed his face. “Not everyone is as altruistic as you, apparently.”

  Kara tightened her grip on Braeden’s hand to keep from doing something rash, like punching Gavin in his stupid face. She really wanted to do that. She gritted her teeth to restrain herself.

  Gavin shook his head. “I almost let him die. I did. I’m not proud of my hesitation now. It was a mistake. But when all you can think of is revenge, you don’t think straight. I haven’t for a long time. I’ve plotted and manipulated and stolen to get what I want, and it’s cost me everything. When I lost my mother, I lost a bit of myself to the hatred. It clouded my judgment. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and I lost both my father and brother because of it. I lost the love of my life. I lost the respect of my fellow Bloods. I lost control over you. By using deception to get my revenge, I lost everything, Kara. I lost everything that ever used to matter to me.

  “And today, I had Braeden at my mercy. Without the antidote, he would have died an agonizing death. Part of me wanted to see it. I’ve hated Stelians for so long, it seemed just. I thought of a world without them in it, without Carden, and it felt right. But to think of a world without Braeden—I was surprised to feel sadness. Remorse. Loneliness, even. I never expected to feel such emotions for him. I didn’t understand it...not until I remembered sparring with him as a child. Wrestling. He would let me win sometimes, and I always got so mad. I was the Heir. He was supposed to lose because I was better, not because he wanted to.”

  Gavin laughed and continued. “But he’s always been the better man. He’s always been my brother. I was too much of an idiot to see the truth until I nearly killed him.”

  Kara watched the Hillsidian Blood out of the corner of her eye, hope flaring within her. Apparently, even monsters could change.

  “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, Kara,” the king added.

  She shrugged. The shock from his confession strangled her voice.

  Gavin pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll leave you be. I can come back later. There will be guards outside. If he worsens, please send one of them for me right away. I’ll drop what I’m doing.”

  “Thank you,” she managed.

  He nodded. “It looks like he’s fallen asleep. Please let me know when he wakes.”

  “I will.”

  He stared at the floor, hands in his pockets, as if he had something else to say. Kara waited, not sure what to expect, but fear slithered through her. She figured what he wanted to ask: what if Braeden didn’t wake up?

  But instead of asking that dreaded question, Gavin cleared his throat and bowed. With a few quick steps, he was out the door. It swung shut behind him and clicked.

  Kara kissed Braeden’s hand and slipped her fingers free of his grip. He mumbled in his sleep. She reached for the desk chair and dragged it until its back faced Braeden. She sat on it the wrong way, staring at him as he rested. She would sit there until he woke up. She wanted him to know he’d never been alone.

  An icy hand rested on her shoulder. She shivered.

  “Hey, Vagabond,” she said.

  “I hate to ask you this again so soon, but are you all right?”

  The adrenaline of walking in on a screaming Braeden kept the rush of emotion at bay, but her defenses were failing now that Gavin had left. Panic tore through her again. Fear. Anger. Loss. Helplessness. She shook her head and bit her lip.

  What if he doesn’t wake up? What will I do?

  Two cold arms wrapped her in a frigid hug. Another shiver raced through her body. When she didn’t return the hug, her mentor sighed and pulled away.

  “Kara, there are those who have received the antidote and still died. It’s possible Gavin wasn’t fast enough. Will you be able to finish this if Braeden doesn’t make it?”

  She set her arms on the back of the chair and burrowed her face into them. She didn’t want to think about it.

  “My girl—”

  “He’s going to make it.”

  “But what if he doesn’t? You have to—”

  “He has to make it.”

  The first Vagabond didn’t respond. It was better he didn’t, since Kara didn’t have any other answer for him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  REBORN

  A dull ache throbbed in Braeden’s temple. He groaned and rubbed his head. What the hell happened? His mind meandered through fragmented memories. Iyra, trapped on top of him. A broken leg. Fog. The Hillsidian Sartori. Blood.

  Braeden’s body ignored his attempts to move. He opened his eyes. Light blinded him. Pain shot through to the back of his neck. He blinked a few times. Streaks of brown and beige settled into odd shapes, which eventually became furniture. He lay on a bed underneath a white comforter. The splintered remains of a desk piled against the wall
to the right. Windows and gold curtains lined the wall to the left. Clouds passed by, casting shadows into the room.

  A hand wound around his torso. He flinched and rolled to the side, trying to get a look at his attacker. Kara lay next to him on top of the covers, eyes pressed closed. She frowned in her sleep and tightened her hold on his waist.

  “She never left your side,” a familiar voice said.

  Braeden whipped his head around. The walls spun from the effort. He groaned and sank back into the pillow until the dizziness passed. When the room settled, he turned his head enough to see the man sitting beside his bed.

  Gavin stared at the floor, his legs straddling the chair as he rested his arms along its back. He leaned his chin against his hands.

  “I still get to punch you in the face,” Braeden said.

  Gavin laughed.

  “I’m serious. You were going to let me die.”

  The Blood’s smile faded. He nodded.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  The king looked at Kara, his eyes resting on her for a fleeting moment. He stared at the floorboards again. Instead of answering, he pulled a key out of his shirt pocket. Light glinted off the emerald set in the handle.

  Gavin placed the key on the bed and stood without another word. His boots brushed along the floor with barely a whisper, and he shut the door without looking back.

  Braeden stared at the familiar trinket, unable to fully grasp whatever just happened. It was a key to Hillside, the only means of returning to the kingdom’s capital. Braeden lost his when Gavin realized he was the Heir to the Stele, and now he had it back. But he still couldn’t quite understand why.

  He reached and pulled it closer, too weak to pick it up. He examined the ornate golden curves of the handle as he brushed his thumb along the polished base. This was a truce. This was forgiveness. After losing his brother for so long, Braeden could finally go home.

  Only, Hillside wasn’t his home. Not anymore. The Stele belonged to him, and all he had to do was kill his father to get it back. Still, he couldn’t ignore such a powerful truce. He was welcome in Hillside, free to come and go as he pleased. He never believed he would have such an honor after all of Ourea discovered what he really was. He took a deep breath and leaned into the pillow, happy with this development.