by S. M. Boyce
Braeden looked back over his shoulder. Nothing remained of the temple but a wall of darkness between the trees. Though the light should have illuminated the temple, or at least the cobblestone road leading to it, the darkness held. It was as if they’d passed through a sheet of solid gloom.
“Why did the Vagabond choose such an evil place?” he asked.
Kara eyed the darkness. “I don’t know for certain, but I have a guess.”
“What’s that?”
“If you had Ourea’s most powerful beings after you, where would you hide? I’d go to the one place they themselves would never want to go.”
Braeden nodded. It made sense. As beautiful as the village was, he certainly didn’t want to have to go through the temple any more than he had to.
Time crawled by—and Braeden liked it that way.
He and Kara had already traveled for twelve hours and still had about three left in a trek that should have taken eight. Ryn ambled, walking barely faster than they could have on their own. But Braeden wasn’t in much of a hurry and just let himself enjoy Kara’s company. They’d adopted an odd question-for-question game with only one rule: they had to answer.
“Favorite food?” Kara asked.
Braeden grinned. “All right, so when we go back to Hillside, you have to try these. There’s a chef who makes the best fruit tarts you’ll ever eat in your life. She adds honey, cream, sugar, butter, and cinnamon, and there’s something else she adds to the dough, but she won’t tell me what it is. I think it’s nutmeg. They’re amazing.”
Kara laughed. “Is there any fruit in those fruit tarts?”
“You name it—mango, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, grapes, kiwi, even oranges.”
“That sounds like too much.”
“Not at all. You have to try them.”
Kara laughed. “I will. Okay, your turn.”
“Where in the human world do you most want to travel?”
She paused. “Europe. I’ve always wanted to see Stonehenge, or Neuschwanstein.”
“What’s Neuschwanstein?”
“It’s a stunning German castle. I’ve always wanted to visit.”
“Then we’ll go someday.”
She turned around and grinned. “You’d let me drag you—a prince—around a tourist attraction?”
He laughed. “I’ve allowed you to drag me around Ourea, haven’t I? What’s a few tourist traps?”
Kara smiled. “Okay, my turn. I hope this isn’t too forward.”
Braeden winked. “Uh, oh.”
“So…have you…um…you know what? Never mind. I’ll come up with another.”
“No way. I want to hear this question now.”
“No, it’s rude.”
“I don’t mind.”
Kara sighed. “Fine. Have you ever dated anyone? I can’t decide. You grew up as a prince, and I remember the way those girls in the market were flirting with you when you first showed me around Hillside. But you’re so against letting anyone get close to you, and I understand why. So which is it?”
He laughed. “My, aren’t these questions getting personal?”
“See! That’s why I didn’t want to ask. I’m sorry.”
“I’m just kidding. Yes, I have ‘dated,’ as you call it.”
“Well, what do you all call it?”
“Courting. There were a few girls I met when I was younger, but obviously nothing ever came of it. I haven’t courted anyone in years, simply because of how close the last one came to finding me out.”
“How so?”
Braeden’s cheeks flushed at the memory of lips pressed into his neck. Her name was Eloise, and she’d pushed him beyond his ability to control himself. She had wanted more than teasing kisses, and the temptation had nearly cost him control of his form before she could even pull him into his bedroom.
Intimacy was a risk, one he’d promised himself he wouldn’t take again. His heart panged with guilt, and he caught Kara’s eye. Was that why he wanted her? Because she knew what he was, and because there was no risk?
“It’s okay,” she said.
He swallowed. The way she’d looked at him—it was like she had read his mind. He doubted she would be so calm if she had.
“What is?” he asked.
“You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked. To be fair, I’ll answer it, too. I’ve only had three boyfriends, all jerks, but that’s ancient history now.”
Jealousy panged in his stomach, and he hated himself for it. She wasn’t even his, so it was childish to be jealous of the boys she’d dated. Still, images flared in his mind of her leaning into a stranger, reaching her arms around his neck and—
Kara glanced around. “I’m sorry I made things awkward. Here, ask me another question. Anything.”
He took a deep breath, happy she pulled him away from those thoughts. He wanted to ask her something that would get her talking and make her laugh. Her smile could distract him from anything.
“What did you want to be? You know, before you came here.”
Kara’s jaw tensed, and she turned away. Braeden cringed. He shouldn’t have brought up the past—it would just remind her of her mother, her father, and everything she had left behind.
“I guess it’s my turn to apologize. I’ll think of another question,” he said.
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I wanted to own an outdoor recreation company. Take people hiking, white water rafting, that sort of thing.”
“That sounds perfect for you.”
“Well, I have a different job now.”
Silence settled between them, leaving Braeden to mentally kick himself. They’d been having fun, but he’d gone and asked one of the worst questions possible.
The sun sank deeper into the horizon. It would be dark in a few hours. While they should probably keep going, since they were making terrible progress, Braeden didn’t want to go to the Gala. Arriving would mean an end to his time with Kara. He would have to be on guard again, constantly watching what he said.
“We should probably camp soon,” Kara said. Her voice flat-lined, as if she was trying not to feel the guilt and remorse that no doubt plagued her.
“Kara, I lied earlier when I said I was afraid of messing up the teleportation. I just didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back.”
“I figured.”
“You did?”
“Braeden, you’re highly intelligent. I’m sure you’d figure it out fairly easily. I guessed you just want to enjoy the quiet a little bit longer.”
He nodded. Something like that.
She pointed to a small clearing just beyond the forest trail. “Anyway, how does this look for a camp? Unless we’re close and should just keep going.”
They were about three hours away at their current pace, but telling her that would mean sacrificing his last night alone with her.
Braeden glanced around. “Walk me through your choice.”
“What?”
“You don’t get to stop training just because we left the village.”
Kara laughed. Braeden’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.
“Okay, okay. I chose it because it’s hidden from the main path, has flat ground, and if you listen, you can hear a brook nearby. We’ll have to make sure it’s clean, but we can probably use it for drinking water.”
“Excellent answer.” He nodded and dismounted, offering a hand to let her down. She took it and slid off, but Ryn shifted his weight as she did. The added momentum threw her into Braeden’s chest.
He wrapped his arms around her out of instinct, pulling her close, and for a split second, neither of them resisted. Impulse told him to lean down, to kiss her, but the moment passed and took the opportunity with it.
“I’ll lay out the blankets,” Kara said. She pulled away and reached for the bags on Ryn’s shoulders.
Braeden lifted the packs off the wolf’s back before Kara could reach them. He turned and headed for the clearing without giving he
r time to fight for them.
“Hey!” she said with a laugh.
“I’ll set up camp. Would you go check on that creek?”
“Well, aren’t you bossy?”
He grinned. “You like it.”
She shook her head in a painfully obvious effort to hide her smile and grabbed a water bottle from one of the packs. Her boots crunched along the grass as she walked into the forest, the sound softer than ever after their week of training.
Braeden had to hand it to her—the girl learned fast.
Setting up camp was a simple matter of laying out the blankets. When he finished, he set out a small feast of apples, pears and a cluster of grapes. He refrained from grabbing something even as his stomach growled. He would wait for Kara.
They’d only managed to find fruit in the village, so they would have to bring back cured meat or learn to bake bread if they returned. Braeden had stumbled onto a kitchen while they were exploring a few days ago, but only the pans remained. It was as if the village had been cleared of all life long before it had been tucked away.
The crunch of Kara’s footsteps returned before Braeden could see her, so he sat on his blanket to wait. The main reason he’d grabbed the bags was to set up the beds close to each other. Kara would have separated them, no doubt still embarrassed by her question about his courting experience, but he didn’t want that. This was their last night to just relax and enjoy each other’s company.
“That stream is actually a lot farther away than I thought,” Kara said as she came into view.
She sat on her blanket and set her bag on the ground before reaching for an apple. Flick crawled out of the satchel and eyed the grapes on Braeden’s blanket.
Braeden didn’t have a response, so he grabbed a pear and bit into it. What he really wanted was some ham, or maybe turkey—he didn’t care what kind so long as he had meat. Living off fruit just left him hungrier, but he didn’t have much choice. He could hunt, but he doubted Kara would want to watch him skin and cook something. He could eat fruit for one more night.
The sun dipped beyond the horizon, and dusk drowned what light remained in the forest. Flick settled back into his satchel as Ryn curled up at Kara’s feet, his eye on the woods. Braeden figured the wolf would be sentry enough; he’d never seen any of the creatures from the Grimoire sleep. Neither he nor Kara would have to stand watch.
Kara stretched out on her blanket and closed her eyes. “Good night, Braeden.”
“Night.”
Braeden stretched out on his blanket, too, and listened to the forest for a while. Kara’s breathing mingled with the chirp of the crickets. An owl hooted now and again. The fluttering of wings passed overhead on occasion. Flick shifted in the satchel on the grass beside Kara, and the bag rolled with him.
Something nuzzled into Braeden’s side. He looked down to see Kara, sound asleep, curled against his shoulder. Her hands slid beneath her head like a makeshift pillow.
He wasn’t sure what to do. Guilt and excitement churned in his stomach, shooting adrenaline into his fingertips. Finally, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and closed his eyes, too.
Sunlight poured through Braeden’s closed eyelids, blurring everything into one large, orange glow. He stretched without wanting to wake up.
“Rise and shine, prince of darkness,” Kara said from somewhere nearby.
Braeden opened his eyes and squinted as the sun poured in around the trees. Judging by how bright it was, he’d slept in.
“How long have you been up?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Not too long. The packs are tied and ready to go when you are. I just need your blanket.”
Braeden looked up to see Ryn laden down with the bags. Kara already wore her satchel, though Flick rested on her shoulder as she busied herself with tying the bags. Braeden wondered if she’d woken up still pressed against him. If so, she didn’t seem interested in discussing it.
“All right,” he said.
He stood and rolled his blanket. A few loose circles of dirt marked where Kara had probably buried their apple and pear cores from the night before.
Kara pulled herself onto Ryn’s back and waited, so Braeden stowed his blanket before he followed suit and sat behind her. He reached into the forward pack for an apple, since he hadn’t eaten yet. Kara tensed as he reached around her.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said without looking at him.
She tapped Ryn, and they trotted off at a faster pace than before. Ryn’s gate was smooth no matter how fast the wolf ran, which made eating possible. But Braeden couldn’t ignore Kara’s mood. Something upset her. Waking up in his arms couldn’t be that bad.
The idea made his gut twist so much he couldn’t eat. Guilt and frustration burned in his stomach, and bile burned the backs of his teeth. He threw his untainted apple into the woods. Hopefully something else was hungry.
They traveled almost completely in silence, for which Braeden quickly became grateful. Soldiers lined the trees, beginning almost ten miles out from the Gala entrance. He saw glimpses here and there—dark brown boots that matched the bark, green tunics only a shade or two off from the trees. They hid their faces, but a few did nod silently to him as he and Kara rode beneath. He nodded back.
Kara watched the road ahead, apparently oblivious to the soldiers in the trees. Braeden resisted the urge to sigh. Hillsidians were stealthy, far more so than any other kingdom could even realize. They were trackers, hunters, and they could always hide. The fact made Braeden want to hold Kara closer, but that was definitely not something he could do now. Not with all these guards watching.
Kara cleared her throat. “Braeden, I have to—”
He was about to interrupt, to ask her to save whatever she wanted to say for when they were actually alone, when Braeden’s old friend Demnug jumped from the forest’s thick underbrush on the back of a drowng.
“Master Braeden!” the captain said.
Braeden smiled. Demnug was only a few years older than him and had always been Braeden’s favorite sparring partner in the Hillsidian training rings. The captain had taken Kara to the Kirelms all those weeks ago, when she was called to visit the other Bloods.
Demnug trotted over to them, and Braeden bit back his laughter when Kara’s lips parted in gaping shock. She’d apparently thought they were alone.
“It’s good to see you both safe and well”—Demnug sniffed the air around them—“and it’s particularly wonderful that neither of your souls were stolen by isen. Blood Gavin would like to see you, Vagabond.”
“I’ll join them,” Braeden said.
“He asked to speak to her alone, Master Braeden.”
“That’s not going to happen. And you know I don’t like it when you use my title, so stop doing that.”
Demnug shook his head and turned around. He started down the trail, but not before he sighed and muttered under his breath so that only they could hear. “You are more stubborn than Blood Gavin, my friend. As you wish.”
Kara rolled her eyes and patted Braeden’s shoulder. “My hero.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kara nudged Ryn again with her heels, and the wolf trotted after Demnug. The trees ended after a bend in the path, revealing a mountain slope with a giant fissure in its face. A thin line of Kirelm soldiers tucked their wings in as they walked through it and disappeared into the crevice. The mountain towered overhead, the crack in its rock several hundred feet tall by the time he and Kara actually stopped beneath it.
Braeden patted Ryn on the neck and dismounted, offering a hand to Kara. She ignored him and slid down on her own. He shook his head and walked through the fissure ahead of her, but not before he saw her scratch Ryn’s ears. The wolf dissolved into dust at her touch, no doubt disappearing into the Grimoire pendant around Kara’s neck to wait to be summoned yet again.
A cluster of stable hands manned the entrance, and one them turned to lead Demnug’s drowng to one of the hundr
eds of stalls in an adjacent stable carved from the stone. Demnug bowed as they walked in and gestured to a pathway on the left. Hallways rose overhead, crossing over one another in curved bridges connecting the dozens of floors above. Flick stuck his head through the edge of Kara’s satchel and chirped as he looked around with wide eyes.
Demnug led them down a hallway to the left and up a dozen flights of steps. Several of the rooms’ doors stood open, the beds inside untouched as their occupants had apparently not yet arrived. Each room Braeden passed contained a mirror, dresser, and even a robe draped over each bed. If it hadn’t been for the deep gouges in the walls or occasional missing handrail, Braeden would never have guessed the city had been lost to the world for thousands of years.
Kara stopped just a few feet in front of Braeden, which made him snap out of his reverie. Demnug knocked on the last door in the hall and waited for an answer, but the entry opened on its own. Braeden looked through to see Gavin peering out of a window, his hands behind his back. The Blood turned to face them, but his eyebrows rose when he caught Braeden’s eye.
Gavin took a few steps closer. “Are you well, brother? You were gone quite a long time.”
“I’ve been better.”
“We weren’t sure if you would make it for the Gala, but Richard prepared a suit for you just in case. It’s on your bed, though the Gala has been delayed until tomorrow because some guests have yet to arrive.”
Kara chuckled, and Braeden resisted the impulse to smile. Yakona were always late.
“Thank you, Gavin. I haven’t heard any rumors of the Gala at all, so I wasn’t prepared,” he lied.
Gavin smiled. “That’s good, then! Security is doing its job. We’ve been patrolling this location for a month now. It’s safe as can be. But if you’ll excuse us, I would like to speak to the Vagabond privately.”
“She already told me what you did, Gavin. I’m not leaving.”
Gavin sighed. He pulled out a chair and sat at the table in his study, even though a messy array of parchment papers adorned with trees and cliffs and gorges littered its surface. Kara took a deep breath and crossed her arms, eyes on the Blood. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Braeden braced himself. Between Kara and Gavin, one hot temper was about to ignite.