Blood Solace (Blood Grace Book 2)

by Vela Roth

  “It’s different,” Lio said. “I wish it weren’t…it didn’t use to be…but it is.”

  “It’s not different with Kia and Nodora.” Mak let out a sigh. “But you can’t tell them without telling Xandra, and that…well. I hope you don’t wait much longer.”

  “Pushing me toward the edge of the cliff?”

  “No, Lio.” Lyros huffed a laugh. “We just want you to hurry up and put them out of their misery. Do you have any idea how relieved they’ll be?”

  Lio couldn’t share Mak and Lyros’s optimistic prediction of their Trial sisters’ reaction to his secret. Nothing could convince him not to dread that conversation with Xandra. Few things could be more uncomfortable than telling the person you had once mistaken for your Grace that you had discovered your real Grace, with the knowledge you must remain acquainted with your former share for the rest of eternity.

  “Please,” Lio pleaded, “don’t say anything until I’m ready.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lyros promised. “We won’t.”

  Mak nodded in agreement.

  Lio clapped them on the shoulders in thanks. He could already feel the auras of his family stirring within. They knew he was home, of course. It was all he could do to keep his veil close about him. Lio let only his father sense that he needed assistance. He didn’t want to worry his mother, and he couldn’t have Zoe get an eyeful.

  Lio felt his father acknowledge his call for help. His father’s aura rose within the house and prowled closer.

  “Father’s coming out to take care of this.” Lio waved to indicate his nose, or perhaps in warning. “Go home and get some sleep. The next battle is one you can’t help me with.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice. Facing off with Uncle Apollon, you’re on your own.” Mak was shaking his head when a splitting yawn interrupted him. “Accursed sun. I can feel it coming on already.”

  “Exhausted from your crushing defeat? Understandable.” Lyros slid an arm around Mak’s waist. “But he who loses the match must forfeit rest until the victor claims his prize.”

  Mak’s yawn transformed into a grin as the two of them disappeared.

  Now that his friends were gone, the full weight of Lio’s trepidation settled over him. He leaned against the railing of the terrace and eyed the open side door. Thorns, he was so tired. How was he supposed to tell his family the life-altering news that he had found his Grace, when his mind was barely working due to his Craving for her?

  Why was one of the best things that had ever happened to him the most difficult thing he had ever endured? This might be the eight-hundredth time he had asked the Goddess that question since he had first set foot in Tenebra.

  Before Lio had even begun to decide what to say, his father strolled out of the house. It was easy for Lio to forget that he, as a bloodborn, was the tallest person in Orthros, when Father’s powerful frame seemed too large for the delicate doorway. The moment his gaze landed on Lio, he crossed the terrace in a single step.

  “Well now.” Studying the damage, he held Lio’s chin with one hand. An ancient hand that could lift marble out of the ground without touching the stone and had put many mages six feet under. But right now his touch was gentle. Dark blue eyes just like Lio’s looked back at him, rueful. “I see my brother managed to talk you off the top of the Observatory. When Argyros and I agreed a bout in the gymnasium would be good for you, this is not what we had in mind.”

  “Can’t blame Lyros and Mak,” Lio said. “I asked for it.”

  “I somehow doubt that.”

  “No, I did. Quite literally.”

  “You asked them for a challenge,” his father guessed. “Not a broken nose.”

  “I must beg a boon of you, Father. I can’t go inside like this. It still doesn’t take much to upset Zoe. It will distress her to see me injured.”

  Father raised his golden eyebrows. “Since when is giving blood to my own son some boon he must ask for with such ceremony?”

  “Since he’s been too old to drink from you outside of Ritual.”

  Father tilted his head back and laughed. “Too old to drink from your parents? Try that one on me again in a thousand years or so. It will be just as amusing then. Better yet, try it on your mother.”

  “Sustenance from an elder firstblood is a boon, even if I have enjoyed the privilege all my life. I do not take your blood for granted.”

  Father touched his thumb and forefinger to Lio’s nose, so carefully Lio didn’t even flinch. “‘Grace’ and ‘Father’ are the only titles to which I have ever aspired. Every time I hear those words from my family, I would give up my seat in the Firstblood Circle.”

  His father’s past was a familiar story, but lately Lio could relate to it as never before. “You really think the Queens would let you do that, especially after you were absent from your seat for seven hundred years? There is no escaping it since you returned to Orthros with your Grace and announced you will never again go errant.”

  “Well, at least it’s a title to offer your mother. Nothing less than ‘Elder Grace Komnena’ would be worthy of her. And attending Circle meetings as my firstgift has been of some use to you.”

  “Oh yes, some small use. I think I might have learned a thing or two, assisting you before the Queens my entire life.”

  Father ran his free hand over the blond curls of his famous beard, which ran in thick, neat braids against his face to join the long braid of his hair behind his head. As if unconsciously, his fingers lingered on the black braid amid the gold. Mother’s braid started at the corner of Father’s mouth and trailed across his cheek, then under his ear and down his back.

  Lio thought again of Kumeta’s half-jesting promise of a recommendation when his beard began to rival his father’s. Replacing all the windows in the house with stained glass would be an easy task by comparison. Sometimes the age-long pace of Hesperine bodily processes was not an advantage.

  “There.” Father nodded. “Bones are much finer work than stone, but those are in their proper place now and ready for healing.”

  Lio blinked. He hadn’t felt a thing. “How many times did you have to do that in the field?”

  His father laughed again. “For a nose? Rarely. When we broke something, it was usually more spectacular.”

  “It’s a good thing Rudhira is a real healer. It is your opponents I pity.”

  Apollon, onetime Blood Errant, flashed a predatory grin. But it was Father who patiently rolled up his sleeve and offered his wrist to Lio. A wrist that bore no battle scars, only the ropy muscles that betrayed this Hesperine had once worshiped his Goddess on the path of battle, not peace.

  Lio bowed his head and accepted his father’s offering. He braced himself, but even so, his first taste of his father’s blood in some time hit his veins with enough of a kick to nearly stagger him. As a child, he had never given it a thought. But once he had come into his full power and the ability to sense the magnitude of his father’s, he had come to appreciate the might to which he was heir.

  Perhaps this was what strong spirits tasted like to a human on a frigid night. Once the initial burn wore off, Lio felt warmed and fortified from head to toe. He lifted his head, careful not to spill. That would be truly embarrassing, on top of needing to drink from his father as if he were still an uninitiated newblood.

  But he couldn’t deny this had been the right decision. He wouldn’t need the deer anymore tonight. “Thank you, Father.”

  “I waited fifteen centuries for a child of my own to sustain on my blood. Do not ever imagine that ends at Initiation.”

  Lio clasped his father’s wrist, which had already healed. His father returned his grip.

  “Now tell me.” Father’s voice was calm and quiet, devoid of command. His aura felt about as yielding as a granite mountain. “Why didn’t your nose heal on its own?”

  Lio sighed. “I will answer your questions. There are things I must speak of with you and Mother. After Zoe is asleep.”

  “Good.”


  As soon as they crossed the threshold into Mother’s study, Father’s sense that all was right in the world enveloped Lio. The house Father had built with his own hands and to which Mother had given her name stood stronger than ever. Lio and his father passed through her favorite room and went into the Ritual hall.

  The mosaic Ritual Circle at the center of their home gleamed under the skylight, catching the moons’ glow as it always had. Red tiles for the petals of Hespera’s Rose, black for the thorns, white for the stars in their bloodline’s constellation. The symbol had always oriented Lio until his return from Tenebra.

  His parents had waited months for him to finally speak about what troubled him. Father clearly thought Lio was about to set their minds at ease. It galled Lio that he had no reassurance to offer them, only the dire truth.

  The patter of little feet announced that Zoe was done waiting for Lio. Her footfalls were somewhere in the hallway outside her room when she apparently grew impatient with walking. She appeared beside the Ritual Circle, her own betony charm swinging about her neck at the sudden stop.

  Mother was right behind her. When Zoe learned to step farther than from one room to another, they would have their hands full indeed.

  Lio’s small sister gazed up at him with her big brown eyes, holding her favorite mantle over her head like a tent. Now that Lio was near again, Zoe was still and silent. That always seemed enough for her, just having him near, ever since his efforts to make her feel safe during the journey home from Tenebra.

  He dropped to one knee in front of her, folding himself down to her eye level as he had that first night, when she had been a frightened orphan and he an imposing stranger.

  Tonight she inched toward him and let him put an arm around her. When he hugged her close, she did not pull away. A great reward indeed. Eventually, perhaps, she would feel comfortable with him grabbing her and swinging her up into his arms the minute he got in the house, as he frequently felt the urge to do.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to get home,” Lio said.

  She frowned in displeasure, but showed no sign of the real distress she had so often experienced when they had first brought her home. She lowered her arms, letting her mantle drape over the top of her head and hang in her eyes.

  Lio rejoiced at every sign their family’s patience and care was helping Zoe heal from all she had suffered as a mortal. Malnourishment had made her small for her seven years, while isolation had left her ill-prepared for life among any people other than the few surviving Eriphite children. And yet in many ways, hardship had forced her to grow up too fast.

  The Gift had restored her health, and now that she would remain a child for decades, her body had more than enough time to catch up. It was her mind and heart that would require the most effort and nurturing so they could heal and, at last, have their opportunity to grow.

  Her presence in the Blood Union was soft but tenacious, and currently pouting. “Why did you have to stay gone? We already took care of my goats and made sure they have everything they need in the barn.”

  That explained the unusual absence of Zoe’s retinue. The two kids trailed after her every waking minute, at least when she allowed them to walk. The miniature breed their parents had chosen as companions for her were easy for a Hesperine child to carry.

  Lio suppressed a smile and answered her as seriously as he could. “I regret I missed it. But I’m sure as long as you were there, they didn’t mind that I wasn’t. Did you have your dinner?”

  She nodded in silence, looking at the floor. “Papa says I may not sleep in the barn with my goats.”

  Father’s hand came to rest on Zoe’s head, and instead of startling as she once might have, she visibly relaxed. He winked at Lio over her head.

  Lio struggled still harder not to grin. “If you slept in the barn, you would be too far away, and I would miss you.”

  A small smile appeared on her face. She tugged on a stray lock of hair, nervous under all the attention. Their mother had spent nights on end rescuing Zoe’s locks from under the grime and teasing out every knot and snarl so she would not have to cut a single hair.

  It had truly been a labor of love, one that had revealed Zoe’s hair to be a straight, elbow-length curtain the color of creamed coffee. Now it shone, silky and healthy, a source of confidence for her that garnered praise from all her fellow Hesperines.

  She seldom knew how to respond to the compliments, but she always wore her beloved mantle so most of her hair could be seen. The voluminous silk scarf had been a very thoughtful gift from Lio’s Trial sisters, one that made Zoe feel safe under the high ceilings of House Komnena.

  Mother smiled at Lio and stroked the back of Zoe’s head. “It’s just as we said, sweetling. Lio is home to bid you good veil before you go back to sleep. Let’s get you settled in your room.”

  Zoe turned without protest to their mother, who now stood in the circle of their father’s arm. Lio looked up at their mother, who had been tall even in her human life. Her long black mane had come with her into immortality, and she now wore it in myriad braids that signified her promises to her new life.

  For as long as Lio could remember, one braid had been thicker than the others, the one she said was for him. Now there was another for Zoe. Both were now braided together with their father’s curly blond braid. Remarkable how familiar the view was from Zoe’s eye level.

  As Zoe pressed close to Mother’s skirts, Lio stood, suppressing a sigh. He was glad everything could be simple for his little sister. It was a new and powerful feeling, this fierce urge to ensure it stayed that way, at any cost.

  The Brave Gardener

  Lio stood in the doorway of Zoe’s room while their parents coaxed her into bed. Not for the first time, he nearly bumped his head on the ceiling. The former storeroom was a far cry from the lovely chambers Mother and Father had reserved for their daughter upstairs, but this room’s low ceiling made it the one place in the house where Zoe felt safe without her mantle.

  The room was too small to hold their parents’ happiness. The simple act of tucking blankets around her long-awaited second child was enough to make Mother’s aura glow with delight. Father sat down on the edge of the bed, as if there were nothing in the world he would rather do than answer Zoe’s nervous questions yet again. In fact, there wasn’t.

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t go check on the other children, Papa?” Zoe asked for the third time.

  Even though Lio knew to expect the question, it always pained him to hear it. To think, Zoe had assumed the duties of a mother at the age of seven, looking after her fellow orphans with no one to help her but ten-year-old Bosko. It would take her a long time to realize she was no longer responsible for the lives left in her care when her human elders had died.

  “The other children are safe in their beds, just like you,” Father reassured her. “Their parents will make sure they have everything they need, just as we do for you. Your mother and I will be right here when you wake up feeling thirsty.”

  “What if they have bad dreams?”

  “They won’t have any bad dreams, little one. It will be much easier than last season.”

  Zoe clutched her betony charm. “What if they dream about Tenebra?”

  This was why Cassia had stayed behind. To spare this child the misery she herself had endured, growing up in Tenebra as a mortal, a female, a child who was made to pay for others’ shame. To keep the mages who murdered children away from her people and that much farther away from Lio’s.

  “None of you will dream about that tonight,” Father promised. “Even after Lio and your mother are asleep, I will be awake, and if I sense any day terrors, I will chase them away.”

  “But what about when you have to sleep, Papa?”

  “Your mother’s and my magic never sleeps, and that will protect you every moment until we wake.” He tapped her betony charm. “And so will this.”

  “Who will take care of my goats when we’re all asleep?”

&
nbsp; Their parents exchanged a smile Lio had often seen over the last nine decades. He suppressed a grin and a sigh of relief. Diverting Zoe’s sense of responsibility to her goats seemed to be helping.

  Mother caressed Zoe’s head. “Our magic will keep your goats safe, too.”

  This was why Lio had left Tenebra. So Zoe could be a child. Her greatest concern should be her pets, not the threat of her own death. He would not allow her second chance at childhood to be marred by a mage war that would devastate Hesperines and humans alike.

  If he brought Cassia to safety, would he ruin all they had fought for?

  If he did not bring her home to him, would she be the next casualty of their fight?

  Was he not in danger of becoming a casualty as well?

  He had to believe he and Cassia could fight better when they were together again, as they had in Tenebra.

  “I can’t sleep until Lio tells me a story,” Zoe declared.

  Lio glanced at his parents. “Do we have time for a story?”

  Their mother’s amused contentment filled the room like a soft light. “I think so.”

  “Go ahead, Son,” Father agreed. “Zoe is fortunate to have none other than Glasstongue for a brother and bedtime storyteller.”

  “Nodora’s ballad is too generous.” Lio stuck his tongue out at Zoe. “See? It’s just like everyone’s.”

  She giggled. “Tell me a story about the Brave Gardener.”

  Lio came to sit on the foot of Zoe’s bed, taking up a tailor’s position. “I knew you’d want to hear a story about her. Which one would you like me to tell?”

  “The bad dreams story.”

  Lio smiled. “A perfect tale for tonight.”

  Mother leaned against the wrought iron headboard, one arm around Zoe. Holding her betony charm close, Zoe snuggled against their mother and watched Lio expectantly.

  “Far away in the land of Tenebra,” Lio began, “there lived a young mortal woman who was very kind and very brave. During the day, she worked in the gardens at the Temple of Kyria.”