Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series)

by S. M. Boyce

  Come to think of it, Braeden would already be in poisoned handcuffs if Gavin knew the truth. This was about something else entirely.

  “What am I supposed to apologize for, exactly?” he asked.

  Gavin smacked his desk and stood. “Bloods, Braeden! What happened to you? Your mind is always somewhere else. You don’t talk to me or Richard any more. You’ve completely changed! And for what, some human girl?”

  “Don’t speak about K—”

  “I am your Blood, and I will speak however I please!”

  Braeden clenched his jaw to bite back the scathing rebuttal that would have ruined everything.

  Yes, he’d changed since he met Kara. He was on edge now, constantly afraid that he would be discovered. But it wasn’t her so much as the truth—that the Grimoire couldn’t break his blood loyalty to Carden—that had changed him. All of his hope for freedom had disappeared the night the Grimoire became useless to him.

  “People change, Gavin. You’re proof of that. You’re greedier than ever, hung up on revenge and the vain hope that an old book will solve your problems!”

  “No, not the book. Its master,” Gavin snapped. His jaw tensed, and he closed his mouth, but it was too late. He had evidently said too much.

  “Is that part of what you planned to tell me when we returned home? You’re going to use Kara? You’ve already tried, Gavin. That didn’t work.”

  “Please, just trust me,” Gavin said softly. He stared at the floor, shoulders bent as if he hadn’t slept in ages.

  “No.”

  The only person in the world Braeden could trust was Kara. She knew the truth, and he had begun to care for her in a way he never thought possible.

  Gavin fell back into his seat and rubbed his eyes.

  “Braeden, you used to spar with me before the Vagabond reappeared. You and I would hunt, talk about strategy and war and philosophy and women and love. You’ve never believed in love, but I can see that you are falling for Kara. You’re almost always out hunting, but when you are home, you’re not mentally with us. You’re thinking of her, always. I know it. I see it. I understand it, I do. She’s beautiful. But you can’t lose yourself to her. She doesn’t want you. She’s using you. She needed a bodyguard, and she took it too far. Just look—”

  “ENOUGH!”

  Braeden’s tone startled even him. Rage pumped through him: the aftermath of nearly losing control. Twelve years of denying his royal heritage had surfaced in that one word. For the first time in his life, he’d spoken like the Heir he was.

  It was a miracle he hadn’t shifted into his natural form.

  “You will never speak to me like that again,” Gavin said in an even tone.

  “You may be the Blood, but I am still your brother. You cannot treat me as less than that.”

  Gavin frowned and leaned back in his chair. “Brothers. Yes, let’s discuss that. When we were growing up, I always thought of you as a brother. I shared everything with you, trusted you. I could have treated you like an orphan, Braeden. I could have wondered why my parents would adopt a child when any family in Hillside would have taken you with a single request from Mother. Why did she choose you? I never asked. I never cared. So yes, Braeden, until the Vagabond lured you away, you were my brother. I wish you would remember yourself.”

  Braeden shut down. It was all he could do to keep from screaming, from shifting and telling the arrogant Blood the truth. His face hardened, and all he could do was examine Gavin with an icy stare that was neither interested nor hateful.

  “You’re the one who has lost his way, Gavin. Not me.”

  Gavin set his fingers against one another and leaned his hands against his face. He stared at Braeden as if he was dissecting something, or maybe trying to piece together some greater puzzle.

  “I just want my brother back,” the king said.

  “Then stop trying to control me.”

  Braeden tensed. He’d said try. Gavin, however, continued without a moment’s hesitation. Braeden suppressed a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t want to control you, Braeden. I’m trying to help you. The Vagabond is a weapon, and she knows that. She has to be playing you.”

  “She’s not.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” Gavin asked.

  Braeden didn’t answer.

  “I want to fix this, Braeden. I want you to have faith in me again. I don’t even know when I lost your trust, but I am right about this whether you like it or not. If time is what it takes for you to see the truth, so be it. I will not remove my order. You are not to see Kara in private. I hope you will someday understand why. For now, though, we must head down to the ceremony.”

  Gavin got to his feet and walked around the desk, but Braeden stood in the doorway as he approached. Braeden wanted to remain, to make the king walk around him, but he knew what would happen. Gavin would likely issue a wordless command to move. If Braeden didn’t obey, the last shreds of normalcy in his life would unravel.

  The Blood stopped just short of him, and Braeden moved aside to let him by. He didn’t know how much longer he could submit to the man who had once been like a brother, but who was now quickly losing his mind.

  The door opened with a wave of Gavin’s hand, the stone groaning as it slid across the floor. Richard stood in the hall beyond, his back to them. He turned as they came closer and raised his eyebrows when Braeden caught his eye. He gaped as if Braeden’s glare had scared him.

  Braeden followed but kept his distance from Gavin. Richard joined him behind the king and nudged his side.

  “You look ready to kill,” Richard whispered.

  Braeden shrugged. He was ready to kill.

  Richard nudged him. “You must relax. This isn’t a party—it’s a political arena. If the Hillsidian Blood’s brother looks murderous, it will reflect poorly on all of Hillside.”

  Braeden took a deep breath. He wanted to explain, to tell Richard what Gavin was doing, but he couldn’t possibly have spoken low enough for Gavin to miss their conversation. Instead, he shook his head, hoping his adoptive father would understand his anger and leave it at that.

  Richard put a hand on Braeden’s shoulder and squeezed. “Just have faith, boy, and trust that it will work out for the best.”

  They rounded a turn in the hallway and began down a curved flight of steps. The stone stairs angled into the grand hall below, where hundreds had already gathered. Musicians sat in chairs on a platform at the far end of the hall, their fingers strumming across the strings of their instruments. Their notes swelled into the rafters and washed over Braeden thanks to the room’s acoustics.

  Hundreds of guests sitting at the dozens of tables below stood as Gavin headed down the stairs with Braeden and Richard in tow. A wave of applause started amongst the Hillsidians and carried out into the other guests until the light patter of hands clapping together became a mild thunder.

  The applause settled as Gavin led Braeden and Richard farther into the hall, toward a raised platform with a long table. The other royal families sat in their places, having left the center seat and three to its right open. Gavin took the seat immediately beside the center chair, and Richard took the next one over. Braeden had no choice but to sit between Richard and the princess Evelyn, which left the center chair open for Kara. He wouldn’t be near her, nor would he be able to look at her without Gavin noticing.

  Braeden cursed his brother under his breath. The man even controlled the seating placement. Braeden took his seat and gave a sharp nod to Evelyn. She forced a smile in return.

  A few boxes lined his plate, but only one caught his eye—a twelve-by-three-inch wooden box with the Grimoire clover carved into its lid. The clasp was nothing more than a metal hook tucked away in an eye, and it was all he could do not to open it right then.

  He grinned. Kara hadn’t forgotten him when she’d brought along presents for everyone. He’d seen the village’s treasury, but couldn’t begin to guess what she’d chosen for him. It wasn’t like he
needed more weapons.

  A series of gasps spread through the crowd like wildfire, followed by applause much louder than had been given to Gavin. Braeden looked up and caught his breath.

  Kara had begun down the steps, her feet slowly following each other. Though he’d already seen her, he couldn’t help himself; he stared. Her pale hair almost had a red tint to it in the hall’s warm light.

  Her cheeks flushed at the room’s reaction to her arrival, which made Braeden grin. That girl couldn’t stand attention.

  Someone beside him chuckled, the sound too quiet for many others to hear. He turned to see Gavin smirk and lean back, eyes fixed on Kara as she entered. Braeden’s grip on his armrest tightened, his knuckles bleaching from the effort.

  Gavin wanted Kara’s power, but the glint in the king’s eye hinted that he perhaps wanted something else as well.

  So that was it—Gavin wasn’t trying to protect Braeden from what he believed to be a manipulative political player. He wanted Kara for himself, and Braeden was in the way.

  Those sitting at the head table with him stood, but it took Braeden a moment to figure out why. He pushed himself to his feet as he saw Kara nearing them. An attendant pulled her seat out for her, and the rest of the table sat with her.

  Kara glanced over to Braeden as she took her seat. He smiled. She grinned back. He was about to mouth a quick ‘thank you’ for his gift when Gavin leaned forward, blocking Braeden’s view. The king set his elbows on the table and leaned just slightly over his plate, turning his head enough to catch Braeden’s eye. Gavin frowned and turned away, but didn’t move.

  Braeden sat back in his chair. This was going to be a long night.

  Gavin stood and spread his arms to address the table, but he faced the throngs of people sitting at the tables below the platform.

  “My friends and neighbors, this is an exciting time. Here in the once-powerful halls of Ethos, we have gathered to celebrate the beginnings of a new era of peace and unity. The world is broken, my friends, but together we will fix it!”

  Evelyn sighed, the sound so quiet Braeden barely heard it. He glanced farther past the princess to see Aislynn watching Gavin with a tense smile. Farther down the table, Blood Ithone leaned back, his wings flowing over his seat. He sat still as a statue, but his daughter Aurora kept moving the silverware beside her plate. Ithone’s wife stared off into the crowd, her eyes clear but empty. With a start, Braeden realized he didn’t even know her name. The queen of Kirelm had never even been mentioned in his presence.

  He glanced down the other end of the table, but couldn’t see past Gavin’s frame. He figured they were equally as unengaged in whatever the king said.

  Gavin continued his speech, but Braeden stopped listening. He wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to laugh, to scream that this was a façade. A joke. None of the other Bloods were even listening. This was a charade, a formality they were all eager to end.

  Braeden glanced out over the throngs of yakona sitting beside each other. At the first table, Twin watched Gavin with a forced smile from her place next to a Kirelm woman, who eyed Gavin through narrowed eyes.

  With a small sigh, Braeden leaned back. He rubbed the small black talisman in his pocket and let his mind drift back to Kara. He would still ask for at least one dance, with or without Gavin’s permission. That way, he would at least be able to enjoy one last moment with her and not have to think about what would happen once they left Ethos.

  Chapter 4

  The Unity Gala

  Kara should have been paying attention to Gavin’s speech, but she was mostly focused on how much she wanted to look over at Braeden.

  “Yakona!” Gavin said, still talking. “For the first time in over thirty thousand years, the kingdoms have been brought together under one roof to celebrate a new era of unity and peace.”

  Gavin continued, but Kara tuned out. She’d tried. She tried to listen, to pay attention, but Gavin just went on and on. He spoke like he had a time minimum. It was all Kara could do to sit up straight. Now and again, her shoulders would hunch, or her eyes would snap in and out of focus as a bug crawled across the tablecloth. On one such occasion, she looked up to see a group of Hillsidians sitting at the nearest table, scowling at her. They leaned over to one another and whispered when she caught them staring. Kara looked back to Gavin, who continued without hesitation.

  “…but that was ages ago, and this is a new era. We will not fall prey to what we once were, but look to the future…”

  Nope. She wasn’t forcing herself to listen to that.

  The room erupted into applause, which Kara joined without thinking about it. Gavin sat back down beside her, and she suppressed a sigh of relief. Finally—they could get on to the ceremony and then dinner. Her stomach growled. At least—

  Ithone stood and addressed the table in much the same way as Gavin. Kara’s shoulders drooped. Her mouth hung slightly open.

  But I’m so hungry!

  Movement in her peripheral vision made her glance again at the first table. Twin caught her eye and pointed to her lips before smiling.

  Kara closed her mouth and sat up straight. Twin was right—Kara needed to get over it. She was a political figure now, as much as that sucked.

  She watched Ithone but didn’t force herself to listen. Braeden snuck a look over his shoulder to her. He grinned, which made her smile back—that grin of his was too infectious to resist.

  His eyes shifted over to Gavin, but Kara couldn’t see the king’s face from this angle. Braeden’s smile disappeared, and he turned away with only one quick look back to her. Whatever was going on between them, Kara didn’t like it. They were two powerful yakona—if they didn’t sort this out soon, their spat wouldn’t end well.

  Something scampered up her leg. She looked down to see Flick curl up in her lap. His ear twitched, and he settled down to sleep as if she had simply forgotten him in her room.

  She hadn’t forgotten—Twin told her she shouldn’t bring him. She’d set him up with a feast, which had distracted him as she left. However, it seemed his food hadn’t lasted as long as she’d intended.

  She ran her fingers through his fur. He purred. Gavin looked over and frowned, but Kara shrugged. She wasn’t going to make her pet leave. Besides, she wasn’t much good at controlling him anyway. She settled back into her chair in an effort to find a balance between comfort and grace. This was only the second speech of several—she just hoped this would all be over soon.

  Kara was two seconds from throwing her shoe at Blood Frine of Losse. His great big blue head was a beacon of long-winded loquaciousness. She’d vacillated between a couple words in the hour he took to tell everyone how great his kingdom was, but loquacious seemed to suit him best.

  Two and a half hours of speeches was enough. She needed food. Flick whined from his place on her lap, so apparently she wasn’t alone even after the giant spread she’d left him earlier. She rubbed his head, but he batted at her hand with his tail and glared up at her.

  Braeden’s occasional smile and Twin’s constant reminders to not look bored were all that kept Kara sane during the speeches. Frine was the last to speak, and he needed to stop. She was going to break something if he didn’t just stop.

  The hall erupted into applause as he finished and bowed, Kara admittedly clapping much louder than she would have if he hadn’t been the last to speak.

  But instead of food, two Hillsidians in ornate green suits brought out a long, rolled piece of parchment and a quill. Kara should have read the program Twin gave her earlier. There was no telling when actual food would be involved at this rate.

  Each Blood stood, crossed to Gavin, signed the treaty, and clasped his hand firmly before sitting back down to murmur with their nearest family member. When Aislynn—the last of the Bloods to sign—sat down, Gavin rolled up the fully signed parchment and set it back on the table. His hands hovered over the scroll until it gleamed with brilliant green sparks. With a snap and a dust of smoke, three mor
e appeared on the table. He handed each Blood a scroll, and the hall erupted in applause yet again.

  Kara glanced back at the first table out of habit, looking for Twin, but no one sat in the chair.

  The hundreds of candles lining each wall dimmed. Kara tensed, wishing she’d brought her sword. Panic shot through her chest. Carden had found them. The Gala had been a mistake—it was the perfect place for Carden to attack everyone at once. He must have broken through, must have found—

  Lights shone from somewhere overhead, focusing on a cleared area maybe a dozen feet from the head table. A group of Hillsidians in bright costumes posed, Twin at their lead.

  Drums played from somewhere above, and the ladies in the group moved their hips in sharp time to the beat. A second chorus of drums joined in, and a third; each line of drums bred new movement from the group.

  Kara sighed. She leaned back, shaking her head. It was a performance, not an invasion.

  “Are you all right?” Gavin asked, his voice entirely too close.

  Kara looked over and nodded, leaning back when she realized his face was barely a foot from hers. She turned back to the performance without answering. She leaned her cheek on one hand to give herself a better distance from Gavin. It was an unbecoming way to sit, but she doubted anyone would see her in the dim light.

  The dancing intensified, the music and curves of the dancers’ movements growing stronger and stronger the longer they danced. Their choreography hypnotized Kara—they moved with a primal passion but spun with a grace she would never master in her life. And Twin led every movement as if she’d choreographed it herself.

  The music raced to a crescendo, the dancers spinning and jumping as the racing beat made Kara’s heart beat out of control. They paused—some in midair—as the song ended.

  The room burst into applause. Most of the noise came from Hillsidians, but Kara saw a few Kirelms nodding to each other as they clapped. Anyone could appreciate the skill required for such a passionate dance.

  Twin bowed as the rest of the dancers retreated into a door behind the sloping staircase. “Thank you! Next, we will be hearing the lovely voices of the Kirelm singers. Please give them as kind a welcome.”