Illusion: Book Four of the Grimoire Saga

by S. M. Boyce

  “Make yourself at home,” she mumbled.

  Kara’s hand lingered on the doorknob as her mind raced. She’d sent Stone off to make a vault in which to store the Bloods’ Sartoris, but Braeden didn’t know that. She didn’t even know how to ask her mentor, not yet. It required tact and an opportune moment she hadn’t had. A pang of guilt shot through her—she hated hiding anything from Braeden, especially something like this. But now wasn’t the right time to ask. She hoped Stone would have at least a little discretion and not mention it. Unlikely, but she hoped for it anyway.

  “Niccoli is dead,” Stone said.

  Kara sighed with relief as the topic of conversation shied away from her concern, but she paused just as quickly. “Who killed him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “How could anyone kill such a powerful isen?” she asked.

  “Perhaps a drenowith did it,” Braeden mused.

  Stone shrugged. “It’s possible.”

  “How do you know he’s dead?” Kara asked.

  “I can’t sense him anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Niccoli’s reach for giving commands is very far—so far I could feel the orders even in my home. I never had to obey them, mind—not since I stole Bailey’s soul—but his orders always felt like a compulsion about nothing in particular, as if I’d forgotten something very important.”

  “That would be an annoying feeling to live with,” Kara said.

  Stone nodded. “Sometimes the sensation stopped, usually when Niccoli went into the human world. It faded two weeks ago, but it hasn’t returned. He doesn’t stay away from home for so long, not anymore. I heard rumors he was dead, and I took a detour from my errand to see for myself. It’s true.”

  “What errand?” Braeden asked.

  Kara tensed and avoided his stare. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we should focus on Niccoli.”

  Braeden grumbled something she couldn’t make out.

  She sat on the bed, relief trickling down into her toes as she redirected the conversation. Flick leaped onto the comforter, his paws leaving indents as he trotted across the cotton spread toward his pillow on the nightstand.

  “I’m glad Niccoli’s dead,” Kara admitted.

  “Don’t be,” Stone chided.

  “Why?”

  “There’s a power void in the guild now. Niccoli kept thousands of isen in check, and now they’re roaming away from home, free for the first time. There will be a rise in isen attacks on yakona villages soon. There’s also a small war brewing in the guild itself as the elder children decide who will take over the guild in their master’s absence.”

  Kara huffed. Great. Another war.

  Braeden crossed his arms. “This doesn’t apply to us. We can warn the yakona villages to be on alert for attacks, but we need to focus on our fight with Carden.”

  Stone laughed. “Nothing to do with us? It’s the worst news possible.”

  Kara frowned. “How could—”

  “Who is a contender to replace Niccoli? Any one of his elder children. Who is among them? Deidre.”

  Kara’s eyes widened. She cursed.

  “Exactly,” Stone said.

  Braeden groaned. “And she’s Carden’s puppet. So if she manages to control the isen of Niccoli’s empire, how many would join Carden’s army?”

  “I don’t know for certain. Tens of thousands, probably. Perhaps more,” Stone said.

  Braeden sighed and sat in the desk chair. “Wonderful.”

  “It’s the reason we need to reach them first,” Stone added.

  “What now?” Kara asked.

  “We must reach them before she does and convince them to join us instead.”

  Braeden frowned.

  Kara laughed in disbelief. “Why the hell would they follow us, Stone? I swear half of all yakona were isen hunters at some point. Let’s fight one war at a time.”

  “There isn’t another option. We need to recruit them, and we need to go now.”

  “How exactly are we going to recruit them? Shall I walk in, wave my wrist guard, and tell them I’m an isen, too?”

  He nodded. “Pretty much, yes.”

  “Why would they care?”

  “Isen follow the strong, Kara. Your family line is feared in Niccoli’s guild. Agneon made plenty of enemies, but even they obeyed him. If you show the elder children your abilities, we will likely win them over. At a minimum, we can convince them to ignore Deidre when she inevitably comes.”

  Kara leaned against the headboard. “Where would the isen fight, though? Is there room in the battle plan, Braeden?”

  “On the front line with Gavin’s troops,” he said.

  “I’m sure Gavin would love that,” Kara said, rolling her eyes.

  “I can’t imagine isen fighting alongside Hillsidians,” Braeden admitted with a nod.

  Stone shrugged. “The Hillsidians can fight with isen or against them at this point.”

  Kara blew a raspberry. Those choices sucked.

  “Fine,” she said.

  Stone stood and leaned against the bed post. “When we arrive at the guild, I’ll introduce you, but that’s as far as my involvement will go. When you get the floor, state your case and terms quickly and confidently, without stuttering or emotion. Even then, you’ll likely have to prove yourself to them.”

  Kara rubbed her face and suppressed an exasperated sigh. “How so?”

  “The elder children will challenge you to see if you’re strong enough for them to follow.”

  “You mean they’ll fight me.”

  He nodded. “Some hated Agneon and will likely try to kill you because you’re young and they can.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Excellent.”

  “I’ll let you know who’s worth keeping alive and who you can kill. However, I won’t help you fight them. It will undermine you and make you look weak.”

  Braeden held up a hand. “Just stop, Stone. Stop right there.”

  Stone grimaced. “You understand this isn’t a debate, don’t you? She has to go.”

  “You’re leading her into a den of isen who want to kill her, and you’re not going to help if she gets overwhelmed?”

  “Correct.”

  Braeden paused, brow twisted in anger. “You understand why I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “She’ll be fine, boy.”

  “You’re insane,” Braeden said.

  Kara laughed. “I thought we established that already.”

  He grumbled. “Fine, but we can’t leave tonight.”

  “We’re leaving now, and you can’t come,” Stone said.

  Braeden crossed his arms. “Of course I’m coming.”

  “Not only are you a yakona—food—but you’re also a famous isen hunter. You’ll be killed on sight, and your presence will undermine everything Kara is there to do. We wouldn’t even make it to the main manor.”

  “Then I’ll disguise myself,” Braeden snapped.

  “You don’t have the isen scent. It doesn’t matter what you look like—they’ll know.”

  Kara curled her knees into her chest and watched the two men yell at each other. Both had valid arguments. She’d promised herself not to leave Braeden’s sight again, at least not until he was Blood of the Stele. But he of all people couldn’t come to an isen stronghold. That would be suicide.

  “Guys, please. Chill,” Kara said.

  Braeden turned her way, but Stone eyed the Stelian prince.

  Kara sat up straight. “If Deidre gets even half of the isen on Carden’s side, our attack on the Stele won’t go as smoothly as we’re hoping. It would be reckless not to at least try.”

  “They’ll try to kill you,” Braeden said.

  She shrugged. “A lot of people have—including Carden.”

  Braeden frowned, but he didn’t respond.

  “Do you think I’m going to die in Niccoli’s guild?” she asked.

  His frown deepened. He paused, but he eventually s
hook his head.

  She forced a smile. “I’ll come back to you. Always do.”

  He huffed and rubbed his neck.

  “We still need buy-in from the other Bloods. They need to agree,” Kara continued.

  Stone grumbled. “Right, the twits.”

  Kara grinned. “They’re a part of this war. We can’t go making alliances behind their backs and expect them to fall in line with us.”

  Braeden leaned against a bed post. “I’ll get us a meeting with them, but I won’t say what it’s about. That way, they don’t make up their minds before we can convince them it’s a good idea.”

  “Do you think it’s a good idea?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth to answer, but it snapped closed. He kicked the hardwood floor with his boot.

  “I understand the need,” he finally said.

  It wasn’t really an answer. He trained his eyes on his boots and shoved his hands in his pockets. Kara’s heart fell into her stomach. She sighed and wrapped her arms around her legs, leaning her chin on her knees.

  Stone cracked his knuckles. “Go get the royals, then. We leave tonight.”

  Braeden shook his head. “This has to wait at least two days. There’s something Kara and I need to do first.”

  Stone quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Our bonding ceremony is tomorrow.”

  Stone laughed. “This is a war!”

  “And I’ve put my life on hold for it. I’ll get my damn wedding.”

  Kara barely stifled a giggle. Both men turned to her. She feigned a cough to cover it.

  “Why can’t this wait?” Stone asked, one finger pointing to Braeden.

  Fair question. The wedding didn’t have to happen now, of all times. In the middle of strategy and war games. She would be distracted throughout the ceremony, unable to take her mind off the soldiers and swords and—

  Braeden’s voice cut through her thoughts. “The ceremony has been planned. We won’t change it now.”

  “Of course you can change it,” Stone said.

  “I said I wouldn’t, not that I couldn’t.”

  “Gentlemen,” Kara interjected.

  “Are you going to let this spoiled brat of a prince speak for you?” Stone snapped.

  Kara jumped to her feet. “That’s enough!”

  Braeden crossed his arms, unfazed. “Kara does whatever she wants. I can’t stop her, though goodness knows I’ve tried. But I won’t drop everything the second you ask me to. In my opinion, this guild trip can wait.”

  “Have it your way,” Stone muttered. He crossed the room in a few strides and slammed the door behind him. Flick chirped and spun his head toward the exit, ears pinned against his neck. He twitched his tail and curled back into a ball on his pillow.

  Kara shook her head. “Stone’s used to getting what he wants when he wants it.”

  “I think you’re right,” Braeden said.

  He stood at the end of the bed, arms crossed. He watched her with the hint of a smile at the edge of his mouth. Smudges of dirt along his chin darkened his stubble. She eyed him, waiting for him to speak first.

  “You know he was just trying to rile you up, right?” he finally asked, his voice low.

  She laughed. “I know.”

  “How are you doing?”

  She shrugged and sat back on the bed with a sigh.

  He climbed over the foot of the bed and stretched out on the comforter. “Seriously, I want to know. I’m worried about you.”

  “You shouldn’t be. I don’t think we’ve been apart for more than ten minutes at a time since Gavin revived you from the Sartori wound.”

  He frowned. “You haven’t been the same since you got back from Kirelm. Something has been bothering you.”

  Her laugh died in her chest. She cleared her throat. Guilt and self-loathing climbed her spine. Her neck ached. She examined her hands, eyes slipping out of focus.

  Kirelm. She killed so many.

  The mattress shifted. A blurry blob of olive skin appeared in her periphery, inching closer as she tried to resist a flashback. Braeden wrapped his hands around her calves. Warmth seeped through the pant legs and brushed her skin, anchoring her to the moment. The room quieted. Neither of them moved. Their mismatched breaths hypnotized her, quelling the rising tide of frustration knotting in her throat.

  “Hating yourself won’t bring them back,” he whispered.

  “What kind of a person would I be if I didn’t hate myself at least a little?” she asked.

  He kissed her knee. “What kind of a person will you be if you hate yourself forever?”

  She sighed. “I want to make things right. I want this fighting to end.”

  “So do I, but I don’t want to let go of life yet, either.”

  “I’m not letting go of—”

  “Kara, you’re getting reckless.”

  “I am not!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “An Ayavelian elite ripped off the Vagabond’s vest. He’ll be famous in Ayavel for the rest of his life for something he shouldn’t have been able to do. He’s good, but he wasn’t that good.”

  Kara hugged her knees tighter and looked away.

  Braeden rubbed her ankle. “You use humor to diffuse tension, but I think you’re actually losing touch with how serious things are. Every fight you enter is life or death. Every single one. I don’t think you realize that anymore.”

  “Of course I recognize that. I can’t stop fighting because I’m scared.”

  He kissed her other knee. “You can’t be careless, either.”

  “I know the risk of going to the guild. I’m not being careless.”

  He sighed. “I’m not only talking about the isen. I’m talking about this final battle with Carden. I’m talking about the way you handle politics, especially with Evelyn.”

  “She’s annoying, but she’s on our side.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Kara sighed. “I know what you meant. Death is a possibility, Braeden. It always has been.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” he whispered.

  She paused, letting his comment sink in. “Are you asking me not to go to the Stele?”

  He huffed and shook his head. “You’re going to do what you want to do. I learned back in Scotland not to control you, even if it’s out of a desire to keep you safe. But you can at least try to stay alive.”

  “The thing with the vest was an accident. I’ll be more careful. Please let this go.”

  “Meeting Death again won’t relieve the guilt of killing those Kirelms,” he said.

  She sat up straight. Their eyes locked. She waited for him to continue, but he sat there and watched her, likely waiting for her response. She wrung her hands and leaned her forehead on her knees.

  “I know,” she finally said.

  “Promise me you’ll pay attention in every fight. Promise me you won’t get reckless.”

  She nodded, forehead rubbing against her knees as she promised.

  He ran a hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and savored the brush of his fingers against her roots. Her heartbeat hummed through her chest, steady. But as she relaxed, tears burned the edges of her eyes. She cleared her throat to keep them at bay. He shifted on the bed and curled up next to her, wrapping one arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  He nudged her. “If you want to delay the bonding ceremony, we can. I don’t want to rush you.”

  “No, you’re right. We shouldn’t stop living to go fight a war.”

  “I’m glad we can agree on something.” He kissed her head.

  She laughed and poked his side. He chuckled.

  “Want to talk strategy?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Braeden rubbed her shoulder, but his eyes slipped out of focus. “Gavin attacked a full ten minutes after the Kirelms dove in because he was too far away when they started. With the Lossians, Ayavelians, and Hillsidians all in the same area, there was barely enough room to stand,
much less fight. We need a way to better coordinate the attack for the real battle.”

  “We could use the grimoires to set up and signal an attack,” Kara suggested.

  Braeden rubbed his chin. “Right, because the vagabonds can pass notes through the grimoires. It could work.”

  “Of course, it would be obvious who these vagabonds are. We would have to ask for volunteers to reveal their identities.”

  “Would any volunteer?”

  “Possibly.”

  “We should bring this up at the meeting with the Bloods.”

  Kara laughed. “Let’s drop one bombshell at a time. Isen first. Vagabonds second.”

  Braeden smiled. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  She leaned into him, drinking in the moment. In less than twenty-four hours, she and Braeden would be connected for life. If all went well, she would even be able to sense him when they weren’t together—and that would make the trip to the isen guild much easier to bear.

  Her smile faded. She wished Mom and Dad could be there. As much as Kara loved Ourea, its monsters had taken both her parents from her.

  No—isen took her parents.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake away the thought. This was supposed to be a happy time. She had to savor it as long as she could—until the war ended, this might be one of the last pleasant moments she had. But the memory of Braeden’s daru flashed behind her eyelids. His red eyes glowed and narrowed, focused on her with that fiery anger that sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

  She flinched. Her eyes snapped open.

  “Everything all right?” Braeden asked.

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  She fiddled with the hem of his shirt. She hadn’t deserved to bear the brunt of his daru, but in a strange way, she understood. Her sloppy attempt to save him set him off. She hadn’t paused to consider the consequences of diving in to help him. Maybe Braeden was right—she was being reckless.

  “What are you thinking?” he prodded.

  She paused, but ultimately decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “About tomorrow.”

  He grinned. “Are you excited?”

  She nodded, letting a real smile wash over her face. “What’s the plan?”

  His grin widened. “We wake up when we feel like it and eat breakfast in bed. Around mid-morning, we’ll head down to the caves, where dozens of bonding altars were carved into the rock thousands of years ago. We set up the altar with candles and incense together, talk about the future, about our plans and hopes and goals. It’s a day of total isolation—only the two of us. No war. No meetings. Only peace and happiness.”