by S. M. Boyce
Treason
Book Two of the Grimoire Trilogy
A Novel by S.M. Boyce
Dedication
For Mom and Dad.
Better parents don’t exist. Thank you for supporting and loving me through every twist and turn.
Praise for Treason
“Boyce has killer talent and a writing voice that rivals any New York Times megastar. The Grimoire Trilogy, quite simply, is awesome.”
—NIKKI JEFFORD, author of the Spellbound Trilogy
“Once again, I found myself plummeting into the world of Ourea. Although I really enjoyed reading Lichgates, I loved Treason... Some of the twists are just amazing, and I can't wait to read Heritage. Boyce, you need to write faster.”
—CHRISTIE RICH, author of the Elemental Enmity series
Treason
(The Grimoire Trilogy #2)
Book Description
Ourea has always been a deadly place. The lichgates tying the hidden world to Earth keep its creatures at bay—for now.
Kara Magari ignited a war when she stumbled into Ourea and found the Grimoire: a powerful artifact filled with secrets. To protect the one person she has left, she strikes a deal that goes against everything she believes in. But things don’t go as planned.
Braeden Drakonin can no longer run from who—and what—he is. He has to face the facts. He’s a prince. He’s a murderer. He’s a wanted man. And after a betrayal that leaves him heartbroken, he’s out for blood.
To survive, both Kara and Braeden must become the evil each has grown to hate.
Chapter 1
Battle
In the hidden world of Ourea, there are too many beautiful places to name: rose-covered cliffs tower miles over the valleys and forests below, cities thrive in submerged ecosystems beneath the sea, and the dragons that once ruled volcanoes are now but fossils in a cave. The creatures of human myth flourish in Ourea. Trees are this world’s skyscrapers. Magic is its currency. And while the rest of Earth forgot what it means to dream big, Ourea kept alive its wonder.
At least, that’s how Kara saw it.
She sat on a ledge in a cave, a dozen feet or so above an indoor river littered with rapids. Green sunlight poured through a crack in the ceiling, its rays tainted green from the branches which blocked her view of the sun. The light danced across the river, illuminating the white foam that splattered into the air as the water rushed by below.
Kara dangled her legs over the edge, listening to the chorus of water roaring through the cave. The ledge on which she sat served as a catwalk through the cavern. Several more ledges lined both sides of the cave, but she hadn’t yet figured out how to get to them. She stared up at the ledge ten feet above her, her eyes following the natural walkway until she came across a missing chunk a few yards off. Maybe she could climb that someday, but all she wanted now was to relax.
Her ledge wound around a bend in the cavern wall and toward a waterfall that fed the river. Behind the waterfall was a flight of stone stairs that led to a dirt trail, which curved through a forest for about a mile before it opened out into the Vagabond’s village—her village. And there, somewhere in the myriad of empty houses and vacant rooms, Braeden was probably starting to realize she’d ditched their sparring practice for the day.
Kara eyed her satchel, which lay empty against the cave wall. Flick—the red, teleporting ball of fur that he was—was out and about exploring the cave. The Xlijnughl—she’d spent an hour with the Grimoire before she could pronounce it properly as Zyl-LEYN-guhl—could find trouble anywhere, so she hoped he would stay close. She would just have to keep an eye out for him.
Her stomach growled. She glanced through the tree branches above to take a guess at the time, but she couldn’t even see the sun through the leaves. As much as she wanted to believe Braeden wouldn’t find her little haven, she knew better. Braeden could track anything. That prince could track a month-old trail if he wanted. There was no escaping him, not that she would ever really want such a thing. Not after all he’d done for her.
She sighed and leaned her head against the cave wall. Pebbles broke off as she pushed against it, so she grabbed one as it fell and chucked it over the edge.
Braeden had guarded her while she visited the yakona kingdoms. He’d helped her bring them together, in a loose sense of the word. He’d saved her life when she fled Hillside. She shuddered—her brush with Gavin had been too close. He’d tried to trick her into wearing a poisoned tiara that would have made her his slave.
She scoffed. None of this even sounded real. This world couldn’t be real. She would wake up from her coma any day now. That had to be it. A secret world hidden beneath the human race’s collective nose couldn’t be real.
Right?
“You scrunch your eyebrows when you’re lost in thought.”
She blinked her eyes back into focus. Braeden sat next to her, even though she hadn’t even heard him on his way across the ledge.
He watched her with that half-cocked grin of his. Black hair framed his face, longer now than when she’d first met him a couple months ago. A few beads of sweat rolled down his temple, tracing his olive skin in a pattern she wanted to mimic with her finger. His dark eyes caught her in their gaze, and she forgot how to breathe for a moment.
“No, don’t stop. It’s cute,” he said.
She laughed and punched his shoulder. He teetered and reached for her, grinning as if he was about to pull her over with him, only to scoot a little closer once he righted himself. Though he would never throw her off a cliff, Kara pulled her feet onto the platform all the same once he started laughing, too.
“You shouldn’t push people who are sitting on ledges, you know,” he said with a wink.
Kara smiled. “You’d heal instantly.”
He nudged her shoulder. “Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Well, I’m sorry then.”
“Ungracious apology accepted.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Even if her mind had created Ourea as some elaborate defense mechanism, she would stay just to be near him.
But Ourea was real. She’d escaped armies, decapitated shadow demons, and had too many scars for it to not be real—and the gravity of her dangerous new life sent bile into the back of her throat. The people vagabonds loved died. Every time. Thus, why she couldn’t have Braeden.
“You all right, Kara?”
She caught his eye and forced a smile. “Yep.”
He narrowed his eyes as if waiting for her to crack under the pressure. She wouldn’t. She wanted what she couldn’t have. It was as simple as that.
A noise like a dove cooing echoed through the cave. A small, red ball of fur about the size of a squirrel jumped onto Braeden’s shoulder, but the prince didn’t flinch. The creature’s long tail batted his face.
“Hey Flick,” he said, scratching the creature’s ear.
Flick purred, rubbing his cheek against Braeden’s neck. Kara shook her head. Her pet said hello to Braeden first.
Furry little traitor.
Flick jumped onto her shoulder and gave her the same welcome. She scratched his ears, unable to resist the little thing, and swung her bag over her shoulder before pushing herself to her feet. Flick crawled into her satchel, his tiny nails digging into her clothes as he scampered into the bag.
“Shall we go, Braeden? We should probably make our way back to the mansion,” she said.
“Nope.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“You wanted to learn to fight. We haven’t trained today. We need to spar
.”
She groaned. They’d been sparring. She’d healed dozens of bruises and even a broken finger, all evidence to the fact she was barely able to react in time to a sword coming at her face, much less a magical technique. She just wasn’t a very good fighter.
“But—”
He laughed. “You’ll never get better if you don’t practice. Come on.”
He drew his sword.
Her stomach twisted. “Right here? Seriously? On a ledge? Those are rapids!”
“Yes. Today, it’s all about controlling your opponent’s movement and fighting in difficult terrain. Since you aren’t strong in this environment, drive me back up the stairs and to the forest, where you have more room to move. Also, you should never be without a sword.”
“But I don’t have one!”
“That was my point.”
“Shouldn’t I practice one lesson at a time?”
In answer, he swung his sword at her arm. She pressed her back against the cave wall, ducking the blow seconds before the blade cut the air. Goose bumps crawled up her neck.
Braeden laughed. “The best way to learn is baptism by fire. Let’s go!”
Kara ducked another swing and looked around, but she had no tactical advantage. Braeden blocked her way to the stairs. She couldn’t run past him or—she glanced over the ledge at the tumbling river below. Nope, she was not jumping into that. Her only escape was the nearby hole in the ledge above. If she could—
Braeden shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, apparently ready to lunge and end this whole bout before it began.
No time to think. Just go.
Kara sprinted away, toward the gap. Braeden followed, and Kara jumped for the ledge seconds before he lunged. She grabbed the walkway, the splinters of rock digging into her arms as her momentum lifted her legs out of Braeden’s passing reach.
His fingers brushed her ankle, sending a shiver up her leg. She resisted the impulse to smile at the tingling sensation his touch left behind. It made her think of his hand on her back, of their kiss—
“Clever!” he said.
Focus, Kara.
She pulled herself onto the ledge and wished she had a witty response, but she’d learned that lesson the hard way during an earlier match. She had distracted herself by talking, instead of distracting him as she’d hoped. Braeden had tripped her and knocked her clean onto her back. Dialogue was yet another weapon, one that required practice. Let the better fighters banter. Lesser fighters focus.
Kara got to her feet and raced along the upper pathway toward the waterfall, her satchel bouncing against her back while she ran as fast as she could. Braeden would be faster, but she had to try.
The ledge curved around a bend in the cave. Her feet pounded against the rock, sending shards of cave wall sprinkling to the ground below. The walkway likely hadn’t seen action like this in its lifetime. She hoped it wouldn’t crumble.
Braeden’s steps echoed from under her as the edge of the catwalk came into view. It would end about ten feet before the stairs, so she picked up her pace. She couldn’t slow down, or Braeden would catch her.
Five feet away now.
Two feet—
Jump!
Kara kept her eyes where she wanted to go, just as Braeden had taught her the last time they’d sparred. She’d tried to jump from a tree and wound up in a bramble bush.
Instinct and a dozen failed attempts in prior matches told her to tuck her head, to curl onto her shoulder and let the momentum propel her forward. She grabbed her satchel and hugged it close, Flick’s body heat seeping through the fabric as she landed and rolled.
Rocks dug into her neck and shoulder before pushing against her back, but nothing stung. Flick giggled from the bag. She rolled back onto her feet and took off again, not daring to look back for Braeden. She would probably trip if she did.
She grinned, adrenaline numbing her fingertips as she ran. She had no earthly idea how she would do it again, but to hell with it. She’d finally rolled!
Kara followed the path as it curved and disappeared behind the waterfall. The water misted along her neck, blocking all light as she passed behind it. She let her feet find the stairs as she bolted up two at a time. Braeden’s light breaths came from somewhere in the darkness behind her.
Green sunlight illuminated the top of the stairs, the light blocked by a thick canopy of trees. Brown blurs came into view—bark. There would be a root right when she rounded the last stair, so she had to be careful not to—
Kara’s foot hooked on the root anyway.
She shot forward and skidded along the dirt path, shifting the satchel onto her back as she fell so that Flick wouldn’t get hurt. He barked in gratitude.
Sticks left gouges in Kara’s arms. Her cheek stung. She wiped her hand over her face, but that just made the stinging worse. Blood stained her fingers when she pulled them away.
A sword glinted in Kara’s peripheral vision. She sprung to her feet. Braeden stood a short way off, without a scratch on him. He grinned.
“Falling was an interesting choice,” he said.
“Cute.” Kara rolled her eyes and brushed dust off her clothes.
“We’re not done yet, so don’t get comfortable.”
He lunged. Light glinted off the blade as it missed Kara’s head by inches. She ducked and rolled beneath a nearby tree, losing a few strands of her hair to Braeden’s sword as he swung again for her neck.
Flick stirred in her satchel at the sudden movement, chirping his disdain that she was moving too much. Honestly, she couldn’t figure out why he stayed with her during these matches, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. She didn’t want to let the little guy out of her sight.
She glared at Braeden and focused her energy into her hands. Pearl blue light congealed over her fingers until it formed the shape of a sword. This technique had taken her hours to manifest and still longer to control, which was unnatural for her; she had gotten used to picking up magic quickly. The light blinded opponents and made her attacks stronger, which she always needed. She had about as much muscle as a plank of wood.
She gripped her sword even as it pulled its energy from her. The drain was a slow one, and she should be fine for this sparring match. This was supposed to be practice and all, but Braeden’s attack had been too close. Way too close.
“I don’t need bangs, Braeden!”
He laughed, and she used the moment to roll farther out of his reach. She was really getting the hang of rolling now that she had adrenaline and a small success under her belt.
“Tuck your head more when you roll!” he called.
She stood and chuckled. “Yes, sensei.”
He raised his hand without answering, even though Kara was pretty sure he didn’t know what a sensei was. A wind shot through the trees, rustling Kara’s hair on its way to Braeden’s palm.
Crap. He was summoning blades from the air again.
Light bent around the air gathered in his hand as he aimed for Kara’s face. She ducked, the blade of air missing her head by inches. It landed with a thunk in the tree next to her and dissolved, leaving behind only a pale scratch in the bark.
“Hey!” she snapped.
“No one is going to be generous in a fight, Kara. Pay attention.”
The prince twirled his sword and ignited a gray fire in his hand. The flames burned and crackled, hovering above his palm as he poised for his next strike.
Who is he kidding? Of course he was going easy on her. He could heal instantly and change his appearance at will. This wasn’t even his natural form. Braeden could have ended this sparring match the second it started.
A smile played on his lips, curling into a smirk as he shifted his weight and crouched. Kara’s heart fluttered, both from excitement and fear. He had spent his life training to fight, and she’d only found the hidden world of Ourea, with its magic and demons, a few months ago. Summer was bleeding into autumn, and she only had the barest understanding of how she was even still al
ive at this point.
“Pay attention!”
Braeden’s sharp command pulled her out of her daydream. She blinked. He was a good ten feet closer now and gaining ground at a full run.
She leaned backward just in time. His sword cut the air in front of her face. A burst of wind blew her hair out of her eyes. The gray flame in his hand sputtered and grew as he prepared for the follow-up attack.
Kara did not want to heal another burn wound.
Her lip twitched. She needed to harness all her energy for this, so she mentally broke her tie to the blue sword in her hand—it dissolved with a shimmer of light like a mirage. Heat pooled in her fingers. Sweat tickled her wrist. Weight settled into her shoulders, and she took a deep breath as she flexed her still-new ability to control magic.
When she wasn’t sparring or exploring the village, Kara had studied. The Grimoire, with all its lessons and articles on magic, had told her about a new technique, one even the first Vagabond hadn’t mastered in his time a thousand years ago: a red spark that could either heal or destroy, depending on its creator’s intentions. In a heartbeat, the spark could heal someone on the brink of death or disarm nearly any opponent. It could sometimes even kill, depending on how much emotion the creator employed. Kara had only ever been able to create a single snap as the red spark blinked in and out of her palm, but maybe a rush of adrenaline was all she’d really ever needed.
Heat bubbled through her arms and neck as she focused. Time slowed. The world dimmed around her as she stole light from the very air, focusing it in her palm. Red sparks crackled between her fingers. She grinned—
—and a wall of gray flame barreled toward her.
She cursed and ducked out of the way, her red sparks fizzling out with a pop.
Braeden groaned. “Don’t try new techniques in the middle of a fight, Kara. You know that! It requires focus you should be directing toward your opponent!”
“I almost had it!”
“Hardly! You’re on fire.”
A trail of smoke wafted across Kara’s face, carrying with it a scent of charred thread that burned her throat. She coughed and glanced down. Sure enough, orange embers glowed on the edges of her sleeve. She rubbed them out, her palm searing as it grazed the burning fabric, but she let out a relieved sigh as the last of the ash fell to the ground. At least, that was until Braeden raised his palm and aimed another gray flame at her head.
