Illusion: Book Four of the Grimoire Saga

by S. M. Boyce

  Deidre.

  The vixen lounged in the center throne, one leg over the armrest as she examined her nails. Carden’s little gray Xlijnughl sat on another throne—his throne, technically, since he was still Heir. Its tiny body barely filled the seat, and its gray coat almost faded into the carved rock. Its tail twitched as it eyed him with the same glare as this woman he so hated. Behind her, a massive black flag stretched the length of the wall, its fabric covered in the silver vines of the Stelian coat of arms.

  Deidre sighed and looked out the corner of her eye. “It’s about time.”

  A shiver of panic raced down Braeden’s spine. No one should sit on the Blood’s throne but the Blood himself. She violated tradition and desecrated his throne before he had a chance to sit in it.

  He tensed. “Where’s Carden?”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me.”

  She laughed. Her skin flickered, the pale white fading to charcoal gray and back. Thick flakes of her skin peeled like wax, dripping down her body to reveal another person behind the first layer of skin. Her hair fell out in clumps. Her eyes darkened. Her muscles thickened. The white of her blouse faded, bits of black cropping up in the corners as her body shifted. Bit by bit, the beads of her body melted away until a Stelian man sat on the throne, one leg still propped over the armrest.

  “You mean him?” the man said, his voice booming in a familiar tone.

  Carden.

  Braeden’s heart sunk to his toes. He gaped. A knot caught in his throat, and his sword hilt slipped. He barely tightened his grip in time to catch it before it clattered to the floor.

  “How—?” he asked.

  Carden laughed, the booming voice echoing in the throne room. He stood and walked down the platform steps, shifting as he neared. Once more, the layer of charcoal gray peeled off in shaved curls. A pale woman appeared beneath the shedding hair and flakes of skin, her rich curls once more framing Deidre’s flawless face. Her dark eyes danced.

  “You’re the Blood?” he asked, lungs deflating.

  Deidre grinned in answer. “Guess again.”

  He straightened. But that would mean—

  “How do you control the Stelian armies?” Kara interrupted, mouth gaping.

  Deidre sneered. “When I wear his face, no one in this fortress questions me. The illusion of power is as good as the real thing.”

  Braeden forced himself to calm down, to focus. “How did you steal a Blood’s soul? When?”

  “I took what I wanted when the time was ripe. Carden was my puppet, boy! As were you. And her.”—Deidre nodded toward Kara—“You Bloods were easy to control once I determined what you wanted. Carden wanted to see you burn. Gavin wanted revenge. Aislynn wanted a drenowith’s blood. And Evelyn—that little idiot simply wants to be right.”

  “You couldn’t possibly…” Kara said, her voice soft.

  Deidre’s grin widened. “Have you checked on your vagabonds lately, little one?”

  “When did you do it?” Braeden asked. It was all he could manage.

  “When did I take Carden? Long before you arrived here today,” Deidre said.

  This woman stole Carden’s soul. Guilt ripped through Braeden’s stomach. Bile burned his throat, but he held it at bay. He rested one hand on his gut, shoulders prepped for him to vomit, but he quelled the impulse. He couldn’t let his guard down, not here. Not now. Not with her.

  He was the Blood. Braeden. He had been for quite some time, apparently.

  Those soldiers in the hallway died because he ordered them to stand still. The mandates he so hated in life had rooted those men in place while he slaughtered them. Worse, the war ended with Carden. If Braeden had known his father was dead, he would have walked into the front gates and ordered the Stelians to put down their weapons. No one else had to die, and yet thousands had already burned tonight. He’d killed his own people without need.

  A fresh wave of bile rushed to his cheeks.

  “What’s the matter, little prince?” Deidre asked. Her face glowed with delight.

  His fingers tightened around his sword hilt. The leather creaked. “You disgust me.”

  She curtsied.

  Kara narrowed her eyes and mirrored Braeden, raising her sword.

  Deidre rubbed her chin, eyes dancing. She toyed with a strand of hair, as if debating what to say. “What is it you want, Braeden? Now, I mean. Now that Daddy’s dead.”

  Braeden’s jaw tensed. He inched forward, looking for a chance to strike, but he didn’t answer.

  The vixen kept her eyes on him. “It’s rhetorical, of course. I know what you want. Two things—to protect your woman and protect your home. Only, the Stele isn’t your home, is it? Not really.”

  A wave of dread sank to Braeden’s toes, rooting him in place.

  “To destroy you, I’d need to destroy both your woman and your home. But I can’t be in two places at once, can I?”

  “The Stele is my home.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Don’t lie to me. This is a prison you plan on converting to something greater. Hillside brought you freedom. That’s your home.”

  He swallowed hard. He had to attack her, to end this once and for all. He monitored his periphery to keep a pulse on Kara’s position and waited for a moment to strike. Maybe he could stall long enough to find a good opening.

  She continued. “Oh, come on now. Don’t make me do this for you! Ask yourself, boy—if I’m here, about to kill your little Kara, who did I send to Hillside?”

  “Evelyn,” he answered, his voice quiet.

  Deidre grinned and clapped her hands. “Smart boy. I knew you would figure it out.”

  Braeden’s jaw tensed. His eyes narrowed. He knew it. Evelyn lost her mind long ago, probably as soon as she’d been made Blood. She was the traitor. And so help him, he would make her pay for it.

  A thundering crash outside shook the floor. Kara stumbled, but Braeden held his ground. A fresh wave of screams seeped through the glass, however muffled.

  Braeden was the Blood, but only the signal—releasing the Stelian coat of arms—would end the war. He eyed the black flag hanging behind the thrones. Until he set that flying over the armies, everyone outside assumed the Stelians obeyed Carden. If Braeden issued a mandate for them to stop fighting, the allied armies would tear them apart before questioning anything. The war wouldn’t stop until Braeden ripped the banner from behind the thrones, and they couldn’t do that until Deidre was out of the way.

  Deidre laughed, eyes focused on him. “What did I tell you the first time we met, boy? I always win. This will be no different.”

  He spun his sword. This time, Deidre would lose.

  Chapter 22

  Revealed

  Kara suppressed the impulse to vomit. Instead, she summoned the red sparks in her free hand, ready to attack. She loosed a string of curse words under her breath, none of them quite powerful enough for this situation. Flick growled, his tiny claws digging into her shoulder.

  “You’re wasting time, Deidre,” Braeden said.

  She nodded. “That’s the point.”

  “But you aren’t going to survive this. We have four armies attacking the Stele from every direction. Whether you like it or not, I have you cornered. I brought the war to you.”

  A dark chuckle hummed in the woman’s throat. Her eyes glistened, dark jewels in the depths of her porcelain skin.

  “Stupid boy. I am the war,” she said.

  Kara took a deep breath and widened her stance. The isen could attack any second and without warning.

  Deidre took slow steps toward them, her hands loose at her sides. “Shall we begin?”

  “I’d rather just end this,” Kara said.

  Deidre stretched her hands in the air and moaned with pleasure as she leaned to the side. “I’ll kill you first, little one. I want him to watch you die.”

  A bolt of green lightning streaked across Kara’s periphery, arcing for Deidre. Kara lunged forward. Braeden shot
three more in rapid succession. Deidre deflected them with a lazy hand, dispelling them with her own bursts of electricity. The attacks fizzled and popped, nothing but sparks after her touch. She drew her sword and rushed at Braeden, almost a blur across Kara’s vision.

  The woman could move like nothing Kara had ever seen.

  Deidre attacked Braeden with a swing to the head. He met the blow and swung a fiery fist at her neck. Red sparks burst across Kara’s hands. Flick crouched on her shoulder and wrapped his tail around her neck. Kara aimed for Deidre’s back and fired. The woman spun out of the way with a half-second to spare, leaving Braeden in their path. He rolled, the sparks missing by inches, and lunged for Deidre.

  Deidre laughed. “You have a choice to make, boy! If you wait any longer, Hillside will be rubble by the time you get to it.”

  Kara swung for Deidre’s head, the blade taking a few hairs as the isen dodged the blow.

  Braeden joined Kara, fist ablaze as they swung at the isen in unison. Deidre’s smile faded as she parried, blocking every blow without fail. Her arm snapped forward. A blast of air rolled off her fingers, sailing straight for Kara’s eyes. Kara’s vision blurred. She gasped and stumbled. Flick yelped. His claws drew blood as he held on. Splinters of pain tunneled toward the back of her head, the lingering attack still biting at her eyes. She rubbed her face, stumbling backward as she regained her composure.

  Her eyes cleared in time to see a blade barely a foot from her face. She dipped out of the way. Flick slid along the flooring. Deidre’s sword clanged off the black tiles.

  Deidre lifted her sword to swing again. A fireball sailed through the air behind her, transforming her into a silhouette. She ducked without looking back, no doubt sensing Braeden’s attack. The fireball sailed toward Kara. Kara summoned a wall of air and released it, shielding herself from the flames. The impact shot her backward. She skidded along on her back even as the fire dissolved with a hiss.

  She pushed herself to her feet. Flick jumped again onto her shoulder. Braeden and Deidre met swords a dozen feet off. Metal clanged. Braeden grunted. Kara summoned the red sparks once more. She would take careful aim this time. Red lights fizzled in her hand, tracing the veins in her palm.

  Deidre twisted and rolled away. Kara aimed for the woman’s torso and fired.

  The sparks hit Deidre’s side. The isen screamed and slid along the stonework. Kara summoned the sparks again, taking careful aim for the isen’s head this time. Braeden ran toward the thrones, but he wouldn’t reach it first. Deidre shot to her feet and rushed toward it, too, arm outstretched.

  Crack!

  Carden’s gray Xlijnughl appeared on Deidre’s arm. A sneer spread across her face. She stopped and turned toward Kara. Her eyes narrowed. Kara gulped despite herself. This wasn’t good.

  Kara widened her stance. Flick growled on her shoulder. She released the sparks.

  Crack!

  Deidre’s wicked face appeared a foot to her left. A blade swung at her neck. Kara pushed backward, letting herself fall. Deidre grabbed her wrist. The blade twisted, and the flat end smacked Flick across the back. He shrieked and sailed off her shoulder.

  “No!” Kara screamed.

  She reached for her pet, hands stretched to catch him. Before she could, Deidre grabbed her wrist.

  Crack!

  The breath left Kara’s lungs. Her stomach sailed upward and twisted a dozen times, worse than it ever had when Flick teleported her. The little gray creature’s magic had a bite.

  Her cheeks flushed. Her vision blurred. She landed on something hard. Her head thudded against a stone floor. She cursed and rubbed her temples, forcing herself upright. The world blurred. She could see only outlines. Gray squares. A silver glint on the floor. A shadow figure standing overhead.

  Kara dove for the silver glint, hoping it was her sword. Elements of her vision crept back. The hilt appeared in her line of sight. The blade burst into view. She grabbed the handle.

  Something stung the small of her back. Pain shot through her body like a web. She groaned. Her muscles tensed, too tight to move. She gasped, eyes still on her sword. The pain released her. Her muscles relaxed. Aches throbbed along every inch of her arms and torso. She gritted her teeth and reached for the sword.

  Someone grabbed Kara’s ankle and yanked. She sailed across the stone. Fingers dug into her side and flipped her onto her back. Another round of agony cut into her core. Deidre crouched at her feet, one hand wielding a sword above her head. Kara kicked with her free foot, nailing the woman in her gut. Deidre cursed.

  Kara stumbled over herself and pushed to her feet. She summoned the sparks without an ounce of restraint. Red lights popped over her fingers for an instant before she released them into Deidre’s chest. The isen arched her back and yelled. Kara aimed a kick for the woman’s face, but Deidre grabbed her boot. She twisted Kara’s ankle. Several cracks filled the air. Kara screamed and fell to the floor. Ripples of pain shot up her leg, a new splinter of agony blossoming with every movement. Her foot lay on the ground, limp and twisted too far to the left.

  Deidre sheathed her sword. Kara sat upright and shot a fireball at Deidre’s face. The isen ducked. The fire burst against the wall, charring the paint. Kara shot another, but Deidre dodged it again. Another wound on the wall.

  A bolt of lightning flew from Deidre’s fingers into Kara’s chest. Kara tensed, her body frozen as the electricity tore through. Smoke clogged her nose. She gagged. The pain lessened. She fell back to the floor, her head banging against the stone. Her cheeks flushed. A second wave of pain tore through her mind and down her neck. A steady throb pulsed along her spine.

  Deidre straddled Kara, setting one knee on either side of her body. The woman’s icy fingers dug into Kara’s neck. She choked. She clawed at Deidre’s hands, trying to tear them away. They didn’t budge. The nails dug deeper. Kara’s throat closed. The air wouldn’t come. An ache spread along her neck. She twisted her hips under Deidre’s grasp, flailing in an attempt to knock the woman off balance. Deidre barely shook.

  “And I wanted him to watch. Too bad,” Deidre said.

  “What is wrong with you,” Kara gasped.

  “We’re isen, child. This is what we do. All we understand is cruelty and anger and pain.”

  Deidre released her left hand, though the right remained clamped around Kara’s windpipe. Flame erupted around the thin fingers. In a moment of lucid thought amidst the agony, Kara summoned fire as well. But Deidre grabbed her wrist with a fiery hand before she could do anything, clamping the wrist guard with a firm grip.

  Leather melted in seconds, the drips welding to her flesh. The spikes digging into Kara’s skin dug deeper, hitting bone. Skin burned. Smoke fizzled from the mess. An eruption of pain ripped through Kara, blinding her. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. She wanted to beg for the pain to end, but she couldn’t speak.

  Instead, Kara screamed.

  Braeden cursed and spun around. Panic flooded his body. A chill swept clear to his toes. The throne room whizzed by him, empty except for Flick. The little beast whimpered at the base of a pillar, ears back as he cried. His legs stretched out along the floor, and he didn’t move.

  Flick let out a tiny howl. It pierced the air, loud and sorrowful. Braeden shuddered and lifted the little creature into his hands. Flick yelped. He redirected his energy into the tiny body, focusing his energy on healing. Bones cracked and shifted in Flick’s spine. He whimpered, ears twitching. Braeden wrapped one hand around the creature’s back to keep him still.

  The final bone snapped into place. Flick’s ears perked upright. He chirped and licked Braeden’s palm.

  Braeden cursed under his breath. His eyes shifted to the unguarded flag behind his thrones, but worry tugged on his mind. He had a choice: release the flag and order the Stelian armies to stop, or take those precious minutes to find Kara before she was killed by a deranged isen strong enough to steal a Blood’s soul. With Kara’s wrist guard on, she’d never have the strength to t
ake Deidre. She needed Braeden’s daru. If Deidre saw the war ending below, she may even kill Kara quickly out of spite.

  Frustration bubbled in his gut. That wasn’t a choice.

  “Where could they have gone?” he asked the air.

  He set Flick on his shoulder and bolted into the hallway. His team of vagabonds stood outside the doors, swords drawn.

  Remy cocked a hand as if ready to throw something, but his eyes widened when Braeden stepped into the hall. The Kirelm lowered his arm. “What—?”

  “No time. Split up. Find Kara!” Braeden interrupted.

  “But she didn’t come through here,” another Kirelm said.

  A distant scream echoed through the hallway.

  “Where—?” the Kirelm continued.

  “Shh!” Braeden held a finger to his lips.

  The scream died out.

  “You”—Braeden pointed to a Kirelm vagabond—“get that banner down and wait for me. The rest of you, find Kara!” Braeden snapped.

  The scream had no direction, so he followed his intuition and raced along the corridor. He didn’t pause to see if the squad obeyed. He didn’t care.

  A chorus of yells and the clang of metal drifted down the hall. The path curved to the left. On his right, a wall of open windows displayed the war below. He caught glimpses of the battle—flames, bobbing heads, cobblestone—in a courtyard below. A gray tower filled the space across from him.

  A roar rumbled through the air like thunder. The castle trembled. Braeden grabbed the edge of a window to steady himself. A dark mass flew by—a wyvern.

  Garrett.

  The wyvern disappeared around the edge of the castle, its tail curving around the stone as it vanished into the night.

  A second scream shattered the air, clear and close. He flinched. The anguish in the woman’s tone broke his heart.

  Kara.

  He scanned the area below before his eyes flicked upward. Carden’s balcony—the one attached to his study—filled the night sky directly above Braeden’s head. He couldn’t see inside from this angle, but his heart sunk into his stomach anyway.