by S. M. Boyce
Kara sighed and leaned against the wall. He was angry now. She kept quiet.
He looked down at the floor. “Killing is the one thing I’m good at doing. The way Aurora looked at me, you’d think it was the only thing I knew. I should have seen that coming. I just didn’t think she would do that to someone who had just saved her life. Not only that, but Gavin would have had me killed. Richard never came to speak to me when I was in the dungeons of Ayavel, and will probably never speak to me again. Aurora I can understand, I suppose, but not them. A family isn’t supposed to care about what you are, just what you’ve done. I can’t care about what they think of me anymore.”
“Don’t give up, Braeden. That will make Gavin right. It makes all of the Bloods right. It makes Carden right. You can’t want that.”
“Giving up doesn’t mean I’m going to kill everyone or succumb to Carden. It means I stop lying. I get to do whatever I want—and I know exactly what I want.”
“What’s that?”
“You safe, and Carden dead.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Braeden—”
“We don’t ever have to be together, Kara, if that’s not what you want. It doesn’t have to be that way. But I will always make certain you are safe.”
She rubbed her eyes, and the bubbling frustration with the Vagabond and his stupid meddling manifested in a statement she would forever regret.
“Braeden, people already know about us! If you want to keep me safe, you should give me space!”
Wind howled past the window, rattling the glass. He didn’t respond, and a chill crept through the room. Kara shivered as goose bumps raced up her arms. Braeden leaned closer at the motion, like he wanted to hold her, but he looked away when she caught his eye.
Way to go, idiot, she thought. And she was an idiot. Guilt churned in her gut. But if getting him angry would push him away and keep him alive, then so be it.
“Should we leave?” she finally asked.
He shook his head. “Not at night. Besides, I don’t know where I want to go yet.”
Kara wanted to bridge the gap, to reach out to him before the trip back, but she had very little to go on. Braeden lay down beneath the window and stared at the ceiling, but it wasn’t long before he closed his eyes. Kara resigned herself to a cold, chilly night and curled up against the far wall.
“Gavin changed when he became Blood,” Braeden said, his voice steady.
Kara looked back over to him, but his eyes didn’t open. She got the feeling she wasn’t supposed to answer, so she let him continue.
“I don’t even recognize him anymore. If you don’t make me a vagabond—if you don’t free me from this—there’s no telling what I’ll do with my people when they’re mine.”
“I can’t make you a vagabond. It would kill millions.”
“But you would trust me to be Blood?”
“Of course I trust you, Braeden.”
“No, you don’t. If you did, you’d let me in. You wouldn’t push me away in an attempt to protect me. Me, of all people! Caring about someone isn’t a weakness. If you truly believe it is, then you aren’t as strong as I thought.”
Kara turned back to the wall, unable to answer from the ball stuck in her throat. If he had to hate her, fine. She wouldn’t let the Vagabond’s prediction come true.
The night dragged on, but Kara couldn’t sleep. She waited until Braeden’s breathing evened out and turned over to look at him.
He kept his Hillsidian form even as he slept. Amazing. He had more control over his power than she’d thought if he could keep his form in his sleep.
But he was giving up. Focusing on the darkness within him—the love of pain, as he’d called it—would destroy him. She just knew it. It would make the Bloods fear him. They’d get rid of him.
Kara rubbed her face and sighed. This was such a mess.
The cold pendant slid across her neck, and she debated whether or not the Grimoire could help. If a way for Braeden to control his darker side existed, she doubted even her book would know.
She summoned the old book anyway. Blue dust twisted from the pendant’s stone and illuminated the room with its inner light. It settled into her lap and congealed into the Grimoire’s old, leather cover. She slipped a finger under the cover and opened it to the sound of pages crinkling.
“How can I help Braeden?” she asked in a whisper.
The pages didn’t turn.
Kara bit her cheek. Did that mean the Grimoire didn’t have an answer? It had always answered her before.
She opened her mouth to reword the question, but her voice froze in her throat. The air died, and a slow realization crept along her neck. Nothing moved. The trees outside hung in the air, framed by clouds that didn’t move on what had once been a vicious wind. Even Braeden didn’t breathe.
The blue moonlight faded from her world, taking with it the colors in her shirt until only tints of gray remained. Eventually, all light faded from the room.
Her breathing slowed. The darkness pulled against her chest and lifted her to her feet. She floated in the void.
A fire sparked to life in her peripheral vision. Someone walked toward it in a familiar cloak, his hood down. The flames lit the depths of a small fireplace and reflected light onto the figure. He leaned on the hearth, staring into the fire. His shoulders hunched as if he didn’t have the strength to arch his back anymore.
The first Vagabond.
Kara wanted to throw something at him. Did he have to be so theatrical all the time? If he wanted to pull her into the Grimoire, just do it. It didn’t have to be a show.
He turned around, the same young Vagabond who had shown her his memory from the night he died. The same Vagabond who would not let her try to love anyone because he himself had lost.
The people Kara loved always died, but she had been willing to try again. To feel alive again, to feel love—was that worth the risk of Braeden dying? It was just so much easier to blame the Vagabond.
Anger, rage, and an unknown fury flared to life in her stomach. She tried to name the emotion, but she couldn’t at first—she wasn’t just upset, or frustrated, or cornered. The negativity burned within as she tried to figure out this new feeling.
It dawned on her, finally—hatred.
“Vagabond, Braeden needs help. He’s giving up and—”
“That’s enough.”
Kara paused. “What?”
“You promised to make more vagabonds, and I intend to hold you to it.”
“Well, yeah, but first—”
“I will not help you, nor will the Grimoire answer you, until you create your army.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“I warned you. You can’t escape a promise made to me.”
“But Braeden needs help!” She stifled the urge to add, and I don’t want to lose him!
“You can’t hide your thoughts from me, Kara,” the Vagabond reminded her.
A knot caught in her throat, and she fought back the tears that wanted so badly to be freed. This wasn’t leverage. This was about the Vagabond having absolute control.
“I’m starting to hate you, Vagabond.”
“I sensed that. Hate is quite a strong emotion.”
She bit her lip and glared at the floor. She couldn’t even look at him.
The Vagabond’s voice lacked emotion. “It’s all right for you to hate me, at least for the moment. You must learn these lessons somehow.”
“No, it’s not! You’re supposed to teach me what to do, not police my every thought!”
“I am doing all I can, Kara, but you need to remain focused! You are here to end a war, not to be courted!”
“I didn’t sign up to end anything! I never even got a choice!”
“You opened—”
“I opened a book, Vagabond. How was I supposed to know what that would mean? I was dragged down a dirt hole by roots and stumbled into a locked library with no way out! There were no hints, no signs to the effect of ‘he
y, opening this book is going to screw you over.’ Nothing!
“And I’ve gone along with it. Despite this crazy, gorgeous, backward world, I’ve learned. I’ve listened. Hell, maybe it’s only because I have nothing to go back to. Dad’s soul was stolen because I dragged Ourea back into my old life with me. But every time I try to enjoy my life here or find some beauty in it, you take it away!”
The first Vagabond paused, as if waiting for something. “Are you done?”
Kara’s fist tightened. Any second now, she would lose it and attack him. She just knew it.
He crossed his arms. “Losing Helen taught me the meaning of true sacrifice. It’s a lesson you should have learned by now!”
His voice boomed so loudly that Kara’s heart skipped a beat. Her voice died in her throat.
He continued. “Love destroyed everything I ever accomplished. I thought Helen was my savior. She taught me happiness, but that happiness made me soft. Vulnerable. And just as Braeden was leveraged against you, she was leveraged against me. No leader should have to choose between his lover and his followers. I couldn’t choose, and you will never have to face that choice if you listen to me.”
Kara tightened her fist. “But you did choose! You stayed behind as a ghost when she said she would wait for you in the next life. You chose duty. All I want is to be happy.”
“You’re a hero, Kara. You don’t get to be happy.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Your idea of happiness is to love and be loved. That’s your peace. You’d hold the lives of your family and your lover as more important than those of the masses. Their needs and desires would mean more to you than the greater good. That love is a distraction from your purpose. It becomes leverage, which means it is weakness. If you let yourself love only a few, you will fail.”
“How can you be so calculating? This is life and purpose and love!”
His shoulders slouched. “With all the death and betrayal you’ve already seen, how can you not?”
“Because I’ve seen the other side of it, Vagabond, a side I thought you’d already seen with Helen. Love is a blessing. It’s what makes life beautiful and gives us purpose. You were hurt. I’m sorry about what happened to Helen, but you can’t be afraid of life because it screwed you over in the past.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I do! You sacrificed everything for your cause, but come on. That wasn’t purely out of selflessness. Somewhere in there was love, love for the greater good maybe, but part of what gives us purpose is what we love. Who we love. Without it, without them, there is no reason for trudging through. I refuse to be afraid to love someone because you are.”
He rubbed his temples. “You are hard-headed, frustrating, and right to a degree. But you must understand that our kind is lonely. We must be self-reliant and distrusting. It is the only way to survive.
“Yes, I was hurt. Everything I loved was taken from me, and I failed. I failed Helen. I failed my vagabonds. I failed my teachers, my friends, and my people. I failed myself. History has twisted my memory and warped me into a convenient myth. The world has forgotten what I set out to do. But with you, I can reignite my old purpose. I can redeem myself. Kara, you are my last chance!
“If Carden wins this brewing war, there is no hope for Ourea. That’s why you cannot fail. You won’t get a second chance at anything. You cannot be lost to either the evils or the beauties of the world. Can you understand why I push you so hard? You are my last chance to do this right. With you, I can fix everything I broke in life.”
Kara looked at the floor. Her body ached from exhaustion. “I’m trying, Vagabond.”
He smiled. “You are. You’re doing so well. That’s just one more reason why it’s so crucial you succeed. You can’t be distracted. Bring about peace, and then you can have your happiness.”
“I’m beginning to doubt that’s even possible,” Kara said under her breath.
“If you don’t believe in peace, then it will never be. You of all people must know that anything is possible as long as you keep an open mind.”
“Look, we won’t get there if I make more vagabonds. It’s just going to make the Bloods angry. It will make them fear me and make them doubt everything we’ve done to pull them together.”
“The Bloods aren’t dependent upon you, and that’s where the danger lies. If you become uncontrollable or simply unnecessary, they will revolt against you. Everything is still volatile, and so much is uncertain. A vagabond army of your own will protect you. Protect the village’s location and protect your Vagabonds. That is the only way to survive this war.”
Kara shook her head. “You make it sound like the yakona aren’t worth saving.”
“They are, but that doesn’t mean you must trust or like them. Our purpose is to unite them for the good of Ourea and of the world. We’re just trying to make the Bloods see reason against war.”
“By starting one?”
“This war began well before my time. We’re here to finish it.”
She sighed. “So what do I do?”
“Build your army, which is not something you should orchestrate alone. Find a second in command and charge them with starting the army while you distract the Bloods. Hopefully, they will never need to know that you have an army, and hopefully, your vagabonds can live forever in the village, safe. But they must be ready should you need them. Your second must be someone you could trust with your life.”
“Braeden.”
“Like I’ve already said, he’s not an option.”
“Twin, then.”
“Change her, and I will help you once again.”
“So how do I change her?”
“Give her one of the unopened Grimoires. If she is worthy, it will do the rest.”
“But there has to be another way to make vagabonds. I mean, you didn’t always have those Grimoires, but you made vagabonds nonetheless.”
He caught her gaze. She resisted the impulse to squirm.
“I don’t trust you with that information. Not yet,” he said.
“What? Why not?”
“When you stop secretly hoping you can free Braeden from what he is, I will tell you. He must face what he is and discover his own purpose. You cannot save him from that.”
She looked away.
The Vagabond continued as if they’d never discussed Braeden at all. “When you turn Twin, she will be free. All your vagabonds will be without a Blood, and they will relish that freedom. So remember, they will never be forced to follow you. You must earn their respect to remain their leader. Be kind, be honest, and be firm.”
The Vagabond looked her over and sighed. He waved his hand. Blurred wisps of white light spun from the void in front of Kara. They twirled around each other and made the outline of a couch. With a flash, they congealed together, and a leather sofa floated in the darkness.
The first Vagabond gestured toward the chair. “Would you like a seat? You look exhausted, Kara.”
She was, though she didn’t want to admit it. As sleepless as her night had been, it wasn’t for lack of trying. Her body shook with fatigue, but her thoughts raced too quickly to let her mind rest for even a moment.
Kara nodded and settled into the couch. It bent beneath her, soft enough to put her to sleep, but she stared into the darkness above her in an attempt to stay awake. The endless black reminded her of the lichgate back at the village.
The Vagabond walked back to the fire. “It’s a special lichgate, in case you hadn’t guessed.”
“Huh?” Kara hadn’t said anything.
Oh, right. He could read her mind. He’d referred to the lichgate back at the village.
He nodded. “Lichgates are imperfect things and easy to corrupt. In my travels, I discovered how to change the destination of a lichgate. I think that’s how Carden lured the Queen of Hillside away from her home, to be honest. I didn’t want anyone to do that to my village, so I created an unbreakable lichgate. That one will always take you back
to the temple.”
Kara nodded. Sleep pulled at her eyes. Good to know.
“Kara? Are you awake?”
She leaned forward and forced her eyes open. “Yes, yeah. I’m awake.”
“As much as I don’t want you to know him, you should visit Stone.”
“Who is that?” she asked.
The name seemed familiar, but her tired mind failed her. Her eyes drooped.
The Vagabond continued. “Stone was my mentor. He taught me much about Ourea, and I never learned as much from anyone as I did from him. He is a powerful isen, but always seeks to understand the science behind magic and the world. He’s been around long enough to have found hidden entrances into the kingdoms so that Twin can go unseen.”
Sleep tugged on Kara’s eyelids, but she forced them back open. “Wait, I thought the muses were your mentors? Adele and Garrett said they taught you to break a yakona’s blood loyalty.”
“They taught me much, yes, but muses have a habit of taking more credit than they deserve. A muse named Bailey introduced me to them and taught me more than even they did. Still, no one has ever taught me more than Stone.”
“Who’s Bailey? You never mentioned him before.”
“He asked me not to name him in the Grimoire to protect him. He was not permitted to help me.”
“Did something happen to him?”
“Yes, but I will not be the one to tell you. I’m biased. If Adele and Garrett haven’t told you, nor should I. Muses are slow to heal.”
“Look, if this concerns me, I need to know.”
“I don’t believe it does. Therefore, the muses will tell you when they are ready. Do not ask Stone.”
“Did he have something to do with it?”
“You ask an annoying number of questions about matters that do not involve you. Do not ask me again.”
“That was a yes, right?”
He rubbed his temples and chuckled. “You’re infuriating.”
“You find me amusing.”
“Confusing is more like it. Slow to change your mind.”
“Speaking of that—”
She leaned forward, shoulders hunched, but she had to make one more argument.
“Please just stay out of my feelings for Braeden. Let me do this. I promise you, it will make me happy. It will give me strength when I need it most to know what I’m fighting for.”
