by S. M. Boyce
Rowthe stopped when they reached Hillside’s castle. It loomed above them, no guards on the front steps and no lights in any of the castle’s thousand windows. Braeden rested his hand on his sword out of instinct and dismounted. He hated quiet.
“Thanks, buddy,” he heard Kara whisper to Rowthe as she dismounted. He turned back, but the flaer was gone.
Kara sighed and nodded toward the closed main doors.
“Shall we?”
The two of them took the stairs slowly, not wanting to know the truth, and pushed open the doors. Only a thin stream of light poured into the dark hall from behind them, so Braeden lit a gray flame in his hand. It cast long, broken shadows onto the closed throne room doors as they passed. He stopped abruptly to watch them, half-hoping the sconces in the room beyond would blaze to life so that he could believe for even a second that everything was fine.
“This can’t be real,” he whispered.
Kara set her hand on his back, but even her touch couldn’t chase away the numb disbelief. After all, the woman who had unknowingly given him a second chance had been killed by his own heartless father.
“If I’d been here, Kara, I could have helped.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
The flame in his hand cast gray light across her face, which froze her expression and made her look like a black and white sketch as she glanced up to him. Her frown said everything: if he’d been here, if he’d seen Carden at all, he would’ve been discovered.
“We should find Gavin,” he said, ignoring her so that he wouldn’t have to admit she was right. “When we do, let me speak to him alone first. I’m not sure if he’s safe to be around quite yet.”
Braeden knocked on the study door after he found Gavin’s bedroom empty, though the small silk robe left on the bed suggested Gavin hadn’t kept to himself in his grief. The study lock unlatched with a click, leaving the door just slightly ajar. Braeden pushed it open and walked inside.
Gavin paced by the mantle, where a fire fumed despite the warm summer night. The crimson glow highlighted the Blood’s sharp nose, deepening the brooding scowl that made him look ten years older.
“Shut the door,” he commanded.
Braeden turned to obey and caught Kara’s eye from where she leaned against the doorframe, waiting. He smiled humorlessly and left a thin crack in the door. He did this for several reasons, the most significant of which involved the fear that his adoptive brother had somehow connected him to the Stele. It was a very real possibility and depended solely on how many clues Gavin had, so he didn’t want to lock himself in the room with a new, hot-blooded king if his brother had somehow discovered the truth.
Braeden walked toward the desk, but Gavin didn’t look up from his pacing until he turned toward the fire with a sudden grunt and threw his hands in his pockets.
The fire crackled as they both stared into it. Braeden set his arms behind his back, his right hand free to grab his sword if needed, but Gavin didn’t move again until he draped his arms over the mantle and leaned against it for support.
“I watched her die, brother,” he finally said. “Blood Carden killed her. I missed him by seconds.”
He called me brother. It was selfish, considering the rest of the news, but Braeden’s heart melted with relief. For now, he was safe.
“I’m sure there was nothing you could have done.”
Gavin stared into the fire without answering. They stood in silence like this for a few moments, long enough for Braeden to lose track of how long the crackle of the fire had been the only sound.
“I want revenge,” Gavin muttered.
“I don’t blame you.”
“I know how to get it.”
“How?”
“Peace.”
Braeden paused. “What?”
“We’re squabbling with the other kingdoms, fighting and warring with them in tiny battles that gain nothing while Carden grows ever-stronger because we ignore him unless his minions cross our paths. Think about it. Instead of fighting, we should unite against him. Tell them that Carden and his Heir are the real enemies. Pull everyone into a war in the name of unity and kill everything in the Stele.”
Braeden’s body tensed, and his muscles ached from the immobility. Gavin continued to stare into the fire and, thankfully, didn’t notice.
“That’s manipulation, Gavin.”
“It’s the truth,” the Blood snapped. “The Stele is a melting pot of vile scum, but it’s a large one. Alone, we have no chance at destroying them. But with the other kingdoms, we have a real army. We can extinguish every light in the Stele.”
“If you want revenge on Carden, take it, but don’t start a war.”
“He already started one.”
“Gavin, the Queen would not—”
“She wasn’t your mother! Don’t tell me what she would have wanted!”
Braeden’s mouth twitched with shock. He didn’t know how to respond.
“Carden could return here to finish what he started,” Gavin said after a short pause. “Even if he doesn’t, Losse and Kirelm are likely to be attacked next. The Stele is a threat. If we want to survive, we must take action. Am I wrong?”
He was not, but Braeden didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Gavin continued without waiting for an answer.
“Losse and Kirelm are stubborn. They will not care about what I have to say, but Kara can help us. I arranged for her to leave for the other kingdoms in the morning, starting with Kirelm. I simply hope that she will be willing to speak for us.”
Braeden quelled his annoyance with a sharp breath. Even after losing his mother and becoming a Blood, Gavin still couldn’t stop manipulating those around him. The warm memory of Kara reaching for his hand flashed across his mind.
“Kara isn’t a weapon, Gavin, nor a tool. We can’t control her.”
“Not a tool, no.” Gavin waved away the idea. “She trusts you, so just ask her.”
“I think it would be best if you did that.”
Gavin glared at him, his eyes narrowing. The fire played with the lines on his face and cast his shadow across Braeden’s feet until he stepped back from the fireplace and folded his arms. Then, as quickly as they had tensed, his shoulders relaxed. His breathing slowed.
“Very well. I will ask her myself.”
Braeden took a deep breath. The storm had passed. Gavin tried to continue, but his voice broke over several half-formed words.
“Did you know he came alone to kill Mother?” Gavin finally asked.
“I did not.”
“He lured her through a hidden lichgate, though we’re still not sure how. He ambushed her. He was alone. He didn’t even think Mother would be a challenge.”
Braeden’s jaw tightened, and he looked to the floor. Carden was crazy, then.
“I will kill off Carden’s bloodline,” Gavin said. “For all the suffering that kingdom has caused, none should survive. I just have to find the castle and that Heir of his.”
Braeden stopped breathing.
“Is Kara waiting in the hall?” Gavin asked, rubbing his face with his hands, apparently too tired to notice the panic flash across Braeden’s face.
“Yes.”
Gavin gestured to the door, which swung open to let Kara into the room and closed once she was through. Its latch clicked, sealing them inside. She stopped beside Braeden as Gavin nodded to her in welcome. He sat at his desk and hunched in his chair, leaning his weight on his elbows.
“Vagabond, I have arranged for you to leave for the other kingdoms in the morning, as long as you are still willing to go,” he said. “I would not normally have pressed you to leave Hillside, but times have changed.”
She nodded. He glanced quickly to Braeden and continued.
“I’m certain you’ve already heard the news of Mother’s death, so I must also ask—” His voice crackled with a suppressed sigh, but he recovered. “I must ask that you speak for us. Please tell them of our plight and use it as y
ou will to unite us all once more. A war is brewing, my friend, and your voice must be a powerful one if we are to win it.”
“I will,” she said, nodding again. She was so calm, so relaxed. Had she even heard the conversation from before she was invited in?
“Thank you,” Gavin said. “Captain Demnug is a good friend of Braeden’s. I chose him as your guide because I knew that my brother would approve of the choice. The captain will take you to the Rose Cliffs and the Kirelm guard will later take you to the Villing Caves.
“Braeden, I need you in the Eastern villages as Mother requested, and you must leave as soon as you can. The isen there is out of control.”
Gavin leaned back in his chair and stared out the dark bay window. The door opened on its own behind them, their meeting apparently over. Braeden bowed and led Kara from the study, but took one final look over his shoulder. Gavin glared through the window, no doubt already imagining the look on Carden’s face when the Hillsidian got his revenge.
Braeden walked Kara to her room. Their trip was noiseless, and he had no idea how to fill the silence.
“He thinks he’s using me,” she said after a while. “But we’re trying to make the same thing happen, just in different ways.”
Braeden shook his head, grateful that she’d listened after all.
“I’m scared for you,” she continued. “Some people can’t see through their hatred, and Gavin is one of those people. You’re in danger if you stay here.”
“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged as they stopped in front of her door.
She looked up and forced a thin smile in response. So she didn’t believe that either.
There were light, purple bags under her eyes, and it was hard to imagine that he’d been showing her the blades technique just that morning. He’d weaseled a few smiles out of her, then, but those were long gone. Whatever the drenowith had done to her had seen to that. He set his hands on her shoulders.
“I know that you have no desire to talk about what happened before I found you at the waterfall last week,” he began. “And I know that you probably can’t tell me what the drenowith told you today. But I’m here if you do ever need someone to talk to.”
“Thanks, Braeden.”
He opened her bedroom door for her and could smell perfume in her hair when he leaned for the handle. She hesitated on the threshold, but ultimately stepped through and peeped around the door as it closed.
“Sleep tight,” she said.
Flight
The door clicked as Kara pressed it shut. She leaned against the paneled wood, unsure of what exactly had just happened but relishing the quick race of her pulse. Braeden sighed on the other side of the door and after a pause, the echo of his footsteps started toward the stairwell.
She sat on the edge of the canopy bed, her eyes stinging and begging her to sleep as blue moonlight bled through gaps in the drapes. The pale light splashed across the polished hardwood beneath her feet and left her borrowed room both bare and quiet.
She slipped off her boots, letting them thud on the floor, and curled her legs beneath her as she settled on the bed and examined the freckles on her hand without really seeing anything. Her shirt crinkled as she shifted, the dried sweat on the cloth cracking with the movement. She cringed and looked over at the bathroom, where a bath and clean towels hid beyond the light, but her eyes drooped.
All she wanted was sleep, but she was afraid of the dreams she might have after such a hellish day: she’d relived her mother dying; she’d been told she wasn’t even worthy of Adele’s or Garrett’s friendship; Braeden had almost been found out. Carden had been so close, and if the Stelian prince hadn’t gone with her to the drenowith—well, she didn’t want to think about it.
Carden is starting something vile. I just wish I knew where he was going with this. I mean, why kill the Blood? Chaos for its own sake? It’s not like Carden could ever rule any other kingdom but the Stele…right?
A memory flashed across her mind of the horde of wolves and minotaurs and trolls and the gray, smoking yakona which had tracked her after her escape from Carden’s throne room. She shuddered and summoned the Grimoire.
The warm musk of its leather filled her nose, and she smiled for the first time since Braeden had shown her how to pull a blade from the air. She flipped open the cover, brushing her hand along the first, empty page. If nothing else, she had the Grimoire. It was constant. Steady.
Smart.
“What is Carden up to?” she asked.
Flick, flick, flick. The pages stopped on a block of text:
I know only of the past, never of your present.
“You are the worst Ouija Board ever,” she muttered.
Someone knocked on her door. She flinched and listened. The hollow thud of footsteps raced down the hall.
She jumped up and yanked open the door to look for her visitor, but the portraits were her only company in the empty hallway. They each stared, peering at her through the dark hall. A few creaks broke the silence, floorboards bending beneath feet in the hallway above, but there was no one nearby. Her visitor was gone.
Intuition pulled her gaze to the floor. There, wrapped in a loose white cloth, was a blue stone. It was square, two of its edges jagged, and small bits of embedded gold glittered from behind the carvings which adorned its polished face. The Grimoire’s clover symbol was engraved with delicate lines into the corner where the two smooth edges met.
Kara knelt and grabbed the cold blue stone. It was identical to what Braeden had given her. She peered around the hallway again, but it was useless. If anyone had stayed to watch her accept the gift, they were well hidden.
“Thank you,” she said anyway as she retreated to her room. She leaned against the door once it closed and bit her lip. The hairs on her neck stood on end. Goosebumps broke out on her arms.
That was half of the puzzle completed, and she hadn’t even left Hillside yet. She should be ecstatic. But a chill raced up her back and tickled her neck instead.
No one would leave a rare slab of lapis that obviously belonged to the Vagabond at her doorstep without an explanation—that is, unless they knew what the lapis was meant to do. Unless they wanted her to find the village.
She huffed and stripped off the nasty, sweat-stained clothes that had carried her through the day, trading them for clean pajamas before she slid beneath the covers. The slab of blue stone weighed on her fingers as she examined it, but there was nothing on it to distinguish it from the other one. This had to be the Hillsidian map piece. She desperately hoped it was, at least.
Her back slouched against the headboard in defeat. It didn’t matter if someone had ulterior motives for helping her find the village; she needed to do it anyway. The Vagabond had told her that his half-finished projects would help. What with the crazy monsters and all the creatures that could shape-shift, those projects might even save her life.
Kara stretched her arm to the floor and after a second or two of reaching for her satchel, she dragged the bag onto the bed and pulled out the other lapis square. She weighed it in her hand before experimenting with the various ways they fit together. When she found the right fit, she touched their edges to one another.
A sharp burst of silver light erupted across them, blinding her. Spots dotted her vision. She cursed and squeezed her eyes shut. The light glared for a minute, but receded once more into the blue darkness before dissolving completely. She blinked until she could see shapes and colors again.
The pieces in her hand had fused together. There was only one jagged edge, now, along the top. The welded edges were perfectly smooth; there wasn’t even a scar where they had once been broken apart. The map made slightly more sense now that she had half of it, but not by much.
In the center was half of a massive oval, which took up a third of the space. Both corners had the clover symbol carved into the stone in thin indents, and the entire map was framed with twisting vines and leaves, but there were no mountains or landscapes that she could recogni
ze. For a map, it had remarkably little direction to it.
Something vibrated. It was short. Sudden. For a moment, she wondered who the text message could be from.
Then she laughed.
The vibration came from her satchel, where her little blue egg was nestled in the bottom corner. She lifted the little orb from the bag and slid the half-finished map back inside. The egg’s inner light glowed orange, the hue more vivid than before. She rubbed it with her thumb.
“So what is this thing, Grimoire? What does it hatch into?”
The pages opened to a drawing of a small creature that resembled a fox. Red stripes lined the otherwise black fur in curving patterns. Its ears swallowed its head and its massive eyes glistened with curiosity. The drawing twitched. The sketched creature tilted its head and snapped its mouth once in a silent bark. She laughed, surprised, but the fox-thing didn’t move again. According to the header on the page, it was an Xlijnughl.
