by S. M. Boyce
“You still don’t have to do this. Not now, not to prove a point.”
“You are too stubborn to learn any other way. Whatever your choice in this matter, I win.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m not. I tried to teach you this lesson already, but you wouldn’t listen. You had to learn it for yourself, the hard way. This is real. This is life or death. This is what others will do to you if you choose to save him. So ask yourself: is he worth it? There is no escape from a promise you make to me.”
Kara took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself as she debated her options. She had no plan. She couldn’t save Braeden without the first Vagabond’s help, but either way she chose, her mentor truly would win—she either had to create more vagabonds or let the boy she cared for die.
Making more vagabonds was wrong. She would only be risking their lives, as well as tempting the Bloods to go to war against her. Kara would become a pawn to her dead mentor’s will if she didn’t uphold her beliefs. But could she really let Braeden die to avoid that?
“Damn you,” she said under her breath.
“So you’ve decided?” the first Vagabond asked.
“Yes.”
Kara took a deep, steadying breath. Regret stabbed at her, but she didn’t have any other choice.
Chapter 7
Verdict
The creak of the prison door opening woke Braeden before he realized he had once again fallen asleep. Light from the brilliant morning outside blinded him for a moment as it streamed through the barred windows of his cell. As he blinked away the spots in his vision, a fleet of guards entered the room. Each took slow steps, no doubt unsure of what to expect from a chained Heir.
Demnug pushed his way through the group and knelt, releasing the ankle constraints before he lifted Braeden gently to his feet. Braeden sighed with relief, and the black scars framed by the holes in his pants slowly began to heal.
The soldiers led him out of his cell and through dozens of halls, likely knowing they didn’t stand a chance if he broke free of the arm restraints. But Braeden walked on, un-prodded and led without even a chain between himself and the captain.
The procession took ages. They climbed stairwells and turned down long halls in an endless labyrinth that reminded Braeden of the maze of tunnels in the Hillsidian castle. Though the poison in his blood slowed his gait and weighed his feet, he forced himself to remain in his Hillsidian form and focused on staying calm.
They passed a cluster of Ayavelian maids in aprons who gasped as they saw the black blood trail from his wrists. They muttered and clicked their tongues as he walked by, but he ignored them and focused on composing what he would say to the Bloods.
Demnug rounded a corner and walked through a massive set of doors into a grand throne room. Four elegant chairs sat in front of Aislynn’s three thrones. Gavin, Frine, Ithone, and Aislynn each sat in these forward chairs, waiting for him to enter.
Evelyn stood behind Aislynn, one arm on her aunt’s shoulder, and glared with unmasked loathing at Braeden as he entered. The spaces behind Frine and Ithone were empty, their Heirs taken as they were in the battle. Soldiers from every kingdom lined the walls, a dozen or more bodies thick. Braeden would never have been able to fight his way out of the throne room, but he didn’t intend on trying.
Though it was custom for soldiers to always stare straight ahead, every guard in the room watched Braeden as he stopped before the members of the royal jury. Demnug bowed and walked into the crowd without looking back, his guards following him until Braeden stood alone.
Gavin groaned in disgust. “Don’t insult us any further, Stelian. Show us your true form.”
Braeden took a deep breath and focused on keeping his voice steady. “This is my true form, brother. This is who I have been for the last twelve years, and this is who I will be, whatever you four decide today. I kept the secret of my heritage because I knew this would happen, regardless of everything I’ve done to protect Hillside. I only kept my secret to protect myself, never to hurt anyone.”
“Hillside is no longer your home, nor should it have been,” Gavin said. The statement stung as much as the spikes, but Braeden tried not to let the pain register on his face.
Braeden turned to the other Bloods. “I want to do whatever I can to redeem myself. Blood Gavin informed me that some were taken yesterday. I will go to the Stele and free them, if you will let me.”
Ithone laughed bitterly. “How is this not a trick to simply get home? Your father’s reputation precedes you, after all. I doubt there is anything you could do to redeem your derelict honor.”
“I have honor.”
“Pray tell,” Ithone said.
“I’ve killed a hundred or more isen to protect Hillside and its neighbors.”
“No doubt with the powers you inherited from your father,” Blood Frine pointed out.
“I saved Blood Gavin from my father yesterday with those same powers,” Braeden countered.
Gavin tensed his jaw, but didn’t answer.
“Bloods, I must confess something,” Aislynn said. The other three yakona on the platform turned to her.
Braeden’s heart leapt.
“You recall the time I spent jailed in Carden’s prisons, tortured for information on your locations. I would not speak, and when his guards failed to break me, Carden himself caused me the worst pain I have ever felt in my life.”
Braeden’s heart fell again. She’d lied. Except for the slivers technique, Carden hadn’t tortured her; Braeden had. He looked at the queen and saw Aislynn’s eyes slip out of focus.
She took a deep breath. “That night, when I lay curled in my cell and thought that I would surely break, a young woman snuck in and helped me escape. It was none other than Braeden’s mother, the Lady of the Stele. She ushered me into a carriage and returned with the then-young Braeden, whom she wanted to also free from Carden’s wrath.
“Braeden’s mother smuggled us both out of the Stele. Though isen ambushed her, he and I were nestled in a hidden compartment and stayed safe until Richard happened upon us. She gave her freedom to save my life, so I lied to Richard in order to protect Braeden. I told the boy to shift form. In doing so, he could claim to be a Hillsidian orphan I rescued from the Stele. I feel as though, in a way, we rescued each other.
“I caution you all, then, against killing a yakona who has proven himself so unlike his father. To do so would destroy the value we place on goodness in the world, as scant as it has become.”
No one spoke or questioned her account. The other three Bloods stared at the floor, and a glimmer of hope sprung to life in Braeden’s gut as the men fumed over this new information.
Gavin glanced up first, his brow furrowed. “Braeden, I don’t doubt that somewhere in your heart is an ounce of kindness, but I also firmly believe that any good you have done was for selfish reasons. Though I appreciate Aislynn’s rescue, you had nothing to do with it. Killing you would bring us one step closer to eradicating evil from our world entirely. I must consider that.”
“Would killing him not be an evil act?” Aislynn demanded.
“No,” Gavin said, but he didn’t look Braeden in the eye.
“How do you vote, then?” Frine asked.
Gavin gestured to Braeden. “I vote to kill this traitor. Blood Ithone, do you wish for the Heir to the Stele to live?”
“No. Blood Frine?”
Frine watched Braeden, dissecting him with his glare before finally whispering his reply. “No. Blood Aislynn?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh, her vote outweighed.
“Then let’s not delay this any further,” Gavin said.
He signaled to Demnug, who drew his sword on command. The captain hesitated, and Gavin rolled his eyes. The conflict in the Demnug’s face dissolved into disgust. Braeden figured Gavin now controlled the man’s mind, but he no longer had the strength to care.
Demnug flew backward as if pushed by an invisible force. He hit the wall w
ith a groan and fell into the crowds of soldiers.
Kara stood at the open double doors and lowered her hand from where it pointed toward Demnug’s crumpled body. She walked into the room, her figure shrouded in black wisps that framed her like a cloak. She stopped just in front of Braeden, but didn’t once look at him. Judging by the swirling black wisps clinging to her body, the first Vagabond had taken over.
“You have defied me for the last time!” Gavin yelled.
He stood, but Kara just raised her hand in response. The stone of Gavin’s seat sprang to life, quickly growing over his arms to lock him firmly in place.
“I am above you,” she said. Her voice had two pitches: her delicate soprano, and the churning bellow of a man.
The soldiers murmured. Some aimed their weapons at her, but Kara continued after just a short pause.
“I am above your rules and pettiness. I have only ever tried to unite these nations in peace, and you have only ever fought me tooth and nail. You are disgusting, all of you.
“When Kara first found the Grimoire, it gave her only a basic understanding of this world. She had to discover Ourea for herself, and in doing so, she saw the truth to which you are blind. But my book did tell her this: the power she has been given must be used to protect those that need it, not those who quarrel. She loves and respects all life. That is what it means to be a vagabond; of that, you cowards are afraid.
“You, Ithone,” she continued.
Braeden’s heart skipped a beat at the lack of a title before the Blood’s name. The first Vagabond must have been furious.
Kara pointed to Ithone as she spoke. “Your ancestors killed my vagabonds all those centuries ago. If any in this room owes me kindness, it is you. The griffin you think I stole came to me willingly and is a friend. I did not steal him; he would simply not return to you.
“Frine”—she turned her attention to the blue yakona—“you, not your ancestors, tried to kidnap my only surviving vagabond in an effort to weigh her as leverage in your petty political duel with Kirelm. You would not be here if the drenowith had not reminded you of your debts to them. That, to me, is true shame.
“And you, Gavin”—she turned to the Blood trapped in his chair—“youngest of them all, you have failed most of any. He who would kill his own brother, adopted or no, is one I refuse to protect. Braeden is the only reason you are alive, and you know this. Yet, you weigh his fate as if you deserve to do so.”
Gavin fought in his chair but couldn’t break free. “Kill them both!”
The Blood’s fury channeled into his soldiers as he controlled them. The Hillsidian guards along each wall turned with the same expression of disgust and rage as their king. Soon, the soldiers of Kirelm and Losse joined suit in the attack. Only the Ayavelian soldiers remained along the wall.
“Kara, you have to get out of here!” Braeden said.
She didn’t move as the guards charged. Instead, she lifted her hands out firmly beside her. The air around her whipped to life. Soldiers flew backward into the wall, just as Demnug had minutes earlier.
As the guards regrouped, Kara twisted her palms to the floor. The flawless tile along the room’s edges fell into whatever lay beneath the throne room. The ground shook, and the entire castle trembled from the force. Dust fell from the roof and walls. Guards screamed and cursed. Thuds echoed from the ground dozens of feet below.
The dust settled, though bits of tile still rained from overhead. Most of the throne room survived; even in her rage, Kara had been careful with Aislynn’s beautiful palace—or, at least, as careful as she could.
Kara grinned and looked over at Gavin. The Blood sat in his chair, no longer struggling. He took deep and steady breaths and leaned as far from her as he could with his limited mobility.
“Compromise,” she ordered.
He looked down to Braeden, but didn’t respond.
After a few moments, Ithone spoke instead. “You said you could return my daughter to me, Stelian. How would you do such a thing?”
The poison in Braeden’s blood zapped more energy with every second, but he forced himself to answer. “I know the Stele by heart.”
“If you rescue my daughter, I will forgive your lies. Especially after such a vote of confidence,” Ithone added with a glance to Kara.
“As would I, should you return my Queen and my son,” Frine said, watching Kara with wide eyes.
The few yakona still above ground turned to Gavin, who twisted in his chair at their scrutiny.
“Blood Gavin?” Aislynn asked, her lips twitching in what seemed like a painful effort to hide a smile.
He gritted his teeth. “I’m warning you, Braeden. Cross us and you will not live long. You have two weeks to bring the three lost ones back, so I suggest you leave quickly.”
Braeden nodded.
Kara shook her head but released the chair’s hold on Gavin seconds before Demnug climbed out of the hole. With a nod from his king, the captain released the shackles from Braeden’s wrists.
Braeden sighed with relief and knelt on the floor as the day-old wounds began to heal. The black blood pooled in his scars until his olive skin grafted over and all signs of the spikes were gone. Inwardly, though, he was still weak.
He looked up in time to catch Kara as she turned to each of the Bloods and locked eyes with them. Her eyes narrowed, each glare making its victim lean back in his or her seat. The Vagabond must have taken over every ounce of Kara’s body to channel this much power.
“Do not make me return,” she commanded.
She turned to Braeden, her hands shaking. He glanced down—her knees shook as well. It seemed as though the first Vagabond was losing his grip on Kara’s mind.
“We must go,” she said.
He nodded, and Demnug led them from the room without a word. Braeden toyed with what to say, but no words could articulate his gratitude. He owed Kara and the first Vagabond his life.
The three of them turned into the hall and walked a short ways before Kara glanced over her shoulder, as if checking to make sure they were alone.
“Good luck,” she said.
With that, her eyes snapped out of focus and rolled into the back of her head. She fell through the dissolving black wisps of the cape that had engulfed her, and Braeden caught her just before she hit the hard stone floor. His limbs buckled, still weak from the cuffs’ poison, and he fell to the ground under her.
Demnug knelt beside them. “What happened?”
Braeden just shook his head. He tried to lift Kara in his arms, but with all he had suffered in the last two days, he couldn’t. Demnug reached out and picked up Kara instead, so that Braeden could walk. He smiled, and Braeden grinned back at his old friend before the captain headed off again down the hallway.
They turned a few corners, but every step left Braeden dragging his feet a little more. Demnug glanced back and nodded to the next door on the right. Braeden nodded and followed him into a bedroom, where the captain laid Kara on a bed.
“I’m glad to have you back, Master Braeden,” Demnug said with a grin.
Braeden smiled. “I never left, and stop using that stupid title.”
Demnug smirked and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
A little more strength inched into Braeden’s limbs with each passing moment. It would be a day before he would be fit to travel, but he had to leave now. Two weeks was not enough time to infiltrate the Stele and rescue three royals.
Despite the panic swirling in his gut as he tried to formulate a plan, he pulled a chair beside the bed and held Kara’s hand. He massaged her palm with his thumbs, wishing he had something to say even though he knew she couldn’t hear.
A floorboard creaked behind him. He whirled around. Adele leaned against the window, gazing out on the late morning sun.
“When did you get here?” he asked.
“I saw enough. You cannot wait much longer, Braeden.”
“I can wait a few hours, right?”
�
��No. She will be out for quite some time. I have witnessed a powerful channeling like that before, and it is not an easy recovery. I assume that each time she has channeled the Vagabond thus far, it has been a minor act. Until today, he has not used much of her power.” Adele paused. “She thinks highly of you to risk such a thing.”
Braeden nodded, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t move.
Adele sat on the bed beside Kara. She leaned closer to Braeden until he had to look at her. “Greatness is not an inheritance. It is discovered fault by fault, and it is earned. You, more than anyone I have seen in a thousand years, have the potential for true greatness.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said.
“I wish Garrett could join you, but he is distracting the council from my absence. I will stay with Kara until she awakes, and we will meet you at the village once you succeed.”
Braeden toyed with the small amulet in his pocket, but didn’t answer.
“You will succeed,” she added.
The muse stood and crossed to the window, no doubt to give Braeden a moment alone with the girl who saved his life. He lifted Kara’s limp hand and kissed the palm, hesitating to savor the warmth of her skin as his fingers curled in hers.
It took effort, but he set her hand on the bed and forced himself to stand. He strode from the room without looking back and left her in Adele’s care.
In the days following the trial, Kara dreamed only once. She was seven and wanted a bedtime story. Her mother tucked her in and crawled into bed with her. They lay there, reading Where the Wild Things Are with a flashlight.
It was only a flash of memory, gone in an instant in Kara’s unconscious state, but it made her smile nonetheless.
Chapter 8
Rescue
Four days had passed since Braeden’s trial.
He took a deep breath and listened. In this series of caves along the outskirts of the Stele, there was nothing to do but listen. The dark grottoes were a labyrinth, an endless network of tunnels and hallways littered with the occasional abandoned dwelling carved ages ago into the rock. Guards once used these forgotten rooms as homes or defense posts, as the grottoes used to be the unofficial back entrance to the Stele, but they were abandoned when the feihl moved in.
