Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series)

by S. M. Boyce

  He turned back to the water, which he had thought would pour into the tunnel. It crashed against an invisible blockade at the temple entrance. The unseen barrier sealed them inside, dry and safe.

  No treachery. No death. Just a hidden temple beneath a lake.

  “I’m fine,” he said, letting her go.

  She ducked her head, but she couldn’t hide her smile as she led him deeper into the temple. Golden sunlight streamed from somewhere above. The light highlighted her cheekbones and gave her blond hair a red tint. His fingers twitched as he suppressed the impulse to touch her.

  The temple arched hundreds of feet above him, nearly as tall as it was wide. Eight closed wooden doors lined the hall on either side of him, and one giant doorframe covered most of the wall at the far end. Through this larger opening, a paved road lined with cherry blossom trees curved over a hill. The world through the doorframe danced in a breeze, its color diluted. That had to be another lichgate.

  Two guards stood by each door, watching him as he passed. Braeden kept up with Kara and remained just behind her, ready and waiting for the tension in his gut to break loose. Any second now, something would go wrong. It always did.

  They crossed through the largest doorway. A shudder raced up Braeden’s back. The cherry blossoms came into full color as he crossed the threshold, their rows of pink petals bending in a gentle breeze that also whipped through Kara’s hair. The sun rose in the distance from behind a forest and shed its rays across the spires and roofs peeking over the tall, white wall that surrounded Ayavel.

  “It’s beautiful,” Braeden said.

  Kara smiled. “I thought you’d like it. You’re not a criminal, Braeden, and you should never have been brought to such a gorgeous place without being able to see it for yourself.”

  He wanted to reach down and kiss her again, but hesitated. The hair on his neck stood on end. His ear twitched. The whistle of a hundred swords leaving their sheaths filled the air. Feet marched along the grass.

  Braeden pushed Kara behind him and turned. Over a hundred soldiers with silver skin marched quickly toward them in white tunics with a gold trim. They’d been hiding along the edge of the temple wall, out of sight to any who walked through the doorway. Someone yelled commands he didn’t understand. They rushed forward and surrounded him in a matter of seconds.

  A tall Ayavelian barked an order at a younger soldier, who tore off toward the castle as fast as he could. The man crossed his arms, his sword still in its sheath, and looked down at Braeden.

  “I am General Krik. If you both would kindly follow me,” the Ayavelian said with a nod to the palace.

  Braeden frowned. “Don’t waste time with courtesy after a welcome like that.”

  “We are merely being cautious. We don’t yet know you. The Bloods are gathered, so your timing is convenient. Shall we?”

  Kara laughed. “Don’t lie. You just sent that boy off to assemble them.”

  Krik smirked. “That I did. I did not know you understood our language.”

  “Why were you waiting for us?” she asked.

  “To lead you to the Bloods, as I feel was rather evident. Shall we?”

  “Don’t you think this is all a bit excessive?”

  “Kara, let’s just get this over with,” Braeden said under his breath.

  She sighed, but nodded. “Lead the way, General.”

  Krik walked down the path without looking back, but the army remained. Kara walked after the general, and Braeden followed suit. Only then did the group of Ayavelian soldiers sheathe their swords and march behind them.

  Cherry blossoms littered the cobblestone road as the palace neared. Braeden walked beside Kara. He wanted to put his hand on her back, to let her know he was there, but he couldn’t push his luck. She wanted space. She would get it.

  The white gates opened as they neared to reveal a familiar road. The street led past homes and storefronts with closed doors and drawn curtains. After about a mile, it ended at the golden doors of the palace. Roofs from the various homes below it hid the far ends of the palace walls, but the great domes and golden spires touched the sky.

  A set of stairs led from the cobblestone to the main doors, and General Krik hurried up them without hesitation. The small army behind Braeden inched closer, leaving him with little choice but to follow.

  The doors opened onto a towering hall lined with columns. The hallway went on for ages, its white walls interrupted only here and there with the occasional golden door. The general stopped at the first entry on the right and opened it without looking in. Light poured into the hallway.

  “They’re waiting,” Krik said.

  Braeden walked in first. Columns lined the hall. Four thrones covered a platform to his right—he cringed. The general had led them back to the throne room where he’d been sentenced to death.

  A royal sat in each throne. Everyone had come to see him return—even the Heirs. Though Gavin sat alone, the other Heirs stood behind their Bloods. The Lossian prince grinned as Braeden entered and nodded once to him. Braeden returned the gesture. Evelyn grimaced when he caught her eye, but he’d expected that much.

  But he hadn’t expected Aurora to be there. The princess stood with one hand on her father’s chair, her one wing curled in tightly to her left side. General Gurien stood to her right and arched his back as if trying to hide the stump where her other wing used to be.

  Aurora’s eye twitched, and her lips curved into a frown.

  Uh oh.

  The princess pushed past Gurien and walked down the steps in front of the Bloods. She teetered ever so slightly without her other wing, but she pointed to Braeden and glared.

  “He is a Stelian!” she screamed.

  Her voice echoed through the silent hall. When it settled, Aurora pinched her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder.

  “Did you not hear me? He is a liar!”

  “We know,” Ithone said. He raised his eyebrows and peered down the brim of his nose at his daughter as if patiently scolding an infant.

  “When did you learn that, Father?” she demanded.

  “He was discovered at the Gala and used his gift to save your life. You should be thanking him.”

  Braeden grinned. “Twice, actually. I saved your life twice.”

  Aurora snapped her head around with such force that her bun pulled loose. Curls trailed over her shoulder. “I would never do you such an honor, Stelian.”

  Braeden grimaced.

  “Leave,” Ithone said with a strained tension in his voice.

  “Why of course, Father. I always do your bidding!” she screamed.

  Braeden raised his eyebrows, as did most of those in the room. Everyone turned to Ithone.

  The Kirelm stood. “How dare you speak to your Blood—”

  “I don’t speak to my Blood. I’m talking to my father! The man who taught me to be ashamed of the power I was given. I’ve hated myself all these years, but no more! I lost a wing to your ignorance, old man. I will never—”

  “Hold your tongue!”

  “I will never fly again because you would not prepare me for the life of an Heir! Waiting for rescue was a crueler fate than learning to defend myself!”

  “This is your last chance—”

  “To hell with you! I will never bow to your whim again!”

  Aurora turned and ran past Braeden, nearly barreling over Kara in the process. The princess ran out the nearest door, her one wing barely making it through as it closed behind her.

  Braeden glanced back to the platform. Ithone stood with his mouth open, apparently unable to process whatever had just happened. Gurien, however, leaned forward with one hand on the throne. He looked about ready to run after the princess. He tensed his jaw. His eyebrows turned upward in a way that reminded Braeden of how he looked at Kara. It seemed like all Gurien wanted was to pull Aurora close and tell her everything would be okay.

  Gurien caught Braeden’s eye. The general’s face relaxed into the familiar mask of indiffe
rence, but his eyes returned to the door.

  Braeden couldn’t believe it. Gurien loved Aurora, even though the princess barely seemed to notice him.

  Ithone sat again in his throne and rubbed his face. “I apologize for my daughter.”

  Kara tensed, and an indent appeared in her cheek. Braeden clenched his fist, hoping she wouldn’t play with fire by commenting. She and Ithone couldn’t seem to find a common ground.

  Instead of speaking, Kara folded her arms and took a deep breath, as if swallowing whatever comment she’d nearly let loose. Braeden nearly sighed with relief.

  Aislynn stood and lifted the hem of her gown as she walked down the steps. She smiled when Braeden caught her eye.

  “Braeden, we owe you a great debt. Thank you for forgiving us,” she said.

  He nodded, but he had nothing to say.

  “You both must be tired. Kara, I heard that you and the Hillsidian named Twin are close. I asked her to take you to your room. Braeden, Richard wanted to show you to yours.”

  That got Braeden’s attention. He thought Richard didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “Both are waiting in the hall. Please, make yourself at home.”

  He nodded and caught Aislynn’s eye again. Though she smiled, a shudder ran up his spine. Something was wrong. She—no, she couldn’t be hiding something from him. Not after everything they’d endured.

  He followed Kara from the throne room, but couldn’t shake the lingering worry. He glanced over his shoulder and surveyed the faces watching him leave. All but Aislynn eyed him with a calculating glare, as if reserving their next move for the opportune moment.

  It didn’t matter. He had earned his place in their war.

  Braeden pushed open the door and held it as Kara slipped through. She smiled at him as she passed, and his heart fluttered. How could one person have such an effect on him?

  It wasn’t fair.

  Richard and Twin whispered together in the hallway as he and Kara left the throne room. Both turned when the door closed. Twin ran over to Kara and wrapped her in a hug. She laughed, and Kara joined in with a big smile. Twin pulled Braeden in as well. He ended up behind Kara, somehow crushing her in the middle of this strange group hug. He had to force himself to back away when Twin released them.

  Richard shook his head and laughed. “I think it’s fairly evident that I missed the both of you as well. I hope a hug is not required of me.”

  Braeden laughed. Twin pulled Kara down a hallway lined with rooms toward a grand staircase at the far end. The girls spoke in whispers, but Kara never turned to look back.

  “You should at least try to hide your longing, boy,” Richard said.

  Braeden groaned. “Was I that obvious?”

  “Painfully so. You’re lucky none of the Bloods saw you.”

  He shrugged. “They likely already have. I think I lose a little more control every time I’m near her.”

  “Don’t say that.” Richard shot a glance back to the closed throne room door.

  “Is everything all right?” Braeden asked.

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  Richard spun on his heel and walked out of a smaller door nearby. Braeden followed, but sunlight poured through from outside. Richard disappeared into the light, and Braeden had to pause for a moment as his eyes adjusted.

  They’d walked into a garden. Silver walls covered in dark green ivy hid a portion of the orchards just ahead. Tall apple trees peeked from above the walls. A thin silver gate stood on their right, open to any who wanted to peruse the Ayavelian gardens.

  Richard gestured to the gate. “Shall we?”

  Braeden nodded. They walked in. The silver walls continued down the lane and split farther down into two paths in what appeared to be a labyrinth. Braeden followed Richard, who turned through the garden as if he’d walked it a hundred times already.

  “My boy, I am so sorry,” Richard said after a while.

  Tears pooled in Richard’s eyes, but the old man wiped them away. He grabbed Braeden and pulled him into a hug, one even tighter than any Twin had ever forced him to endure.

  Braeden didn’t know what to do. He hugged back.

  “After you were discovered, Braeden, I broke down. It was all too much, too fast. The boy I’d raised to be my son actually belonged to the man who killed the woman I loved? I couldn’t think. I was still so weak from Lorraine’s death, and—” His voice broke in a sob.

  “I thought you didn’t want me,” Braeden admitted in a soft voice.

  Richard took a step back and lifted his head. His cheeks flushed, but he broke through Braeden’s doubt with a single, proud smile.

  “You are and always will be my son. That you ever doubted me is my failure and mine alone. I may be old, my boy, but it doesn’t mean I can’t make a mistake now and again.”

  Braeden laughed through the knot in his throat as he tried to grapple with what exactly was happening. “Rarely, old man. You make mistakes rarely.”

  Richard laughed, too, and continued walking down the row. Braeden didn’t keep track of the path they took. He suddenly didn’t care.

  “When Gavin chained you like a criminal, I refused to even look at him. I still haven’t,” Richard said.

  “You haven’t seen him since the Gala?”

  Richard shook his head. “I told him Lorraine would have been merciful, and that he should do the same. So he banished me from the trial.”

  A wave of regret shot through Braeden. Now he knew why Richard hadn’t been at the trial. “And he’s allowing you to speak to me now?”

  “Avoiding him has its privileges, including avoiding his mandates for a short while longer,” Richard said.

  “What happened to the brother I grew up with? He was arrogant, sure, but never manipulative.”

  Richard rubbed his beard. “Power corrupts, and I fear he is nearly gone. Much longer, and no one will be able to save him. What sort of son calls his father by name? I’m not his father. He doesn’t see me as his superior, or even as an advisor. I try to be his conscience, but he sees me only as an annoyance.”

  “Why does he do that?”

  “What?”

  “Call you Richard. What happened?”

  “Oh. You.”

  “Me?”

  “Until I found you in that carriage, I had only Gavin—a little boy with selfish ambition. I could never shake it from him, no matter what I tried. Humility was lost on him. Compassion, a mystery. All he knew was war and pride. He led a campaign against the squirrels once for moving into an abandoned attic when he was six. In his mind, they invaded his home.”

  Braeden laughed, but Richard shuddered. He frowned and shook his head, as if still disgusted with whatever it was Gavin did in his campaign.

  “No, Braeden. It isn’t funny. For weeks, he killed any squirrel he found, even if it wasn’t in the attic. He butchered them. I tried everything to make him stop—disappointment, pleading, disgust. It wasn’t until I asked Lorraine to step in that he left the animals alone.”

  “He was just a boy, and a prince at that. He made a mistake, but he’s grown up. I’m sure he can see reason if we say the right thing.”

  Richard stared into the sky, shaking his head as he paused in thought. Finally, he sighed. “Has he grown up, though?”

  Braeden continued walking. He didn’t have an answer.

  Richard smiled. “But then I found you. You were such a sweet little child, and so scared those first few weeks. You did everything we asked, and ten times faster than we thought possible. You listened when I told stories. Your eyes”—Richard laughed—“oh, your eyes always went wide with wonder. When you began training, you devoted all your soul to learning. I had never seen such a warrior, especially in such a small package.

  “You were afraid of the word ‘father,’ though, and I never pressed that. I knew it had to be from some horror you endured in the Stele. I figured maybe Carden murdered your father. I wanted you to know I was here for you, that I would protec
t you. You protected the Hillsidian people from isen on your own accord.”

  Braeden smiled. He’d forgotten all of that.

  Richard grinned. “One of the best days of my life was our first isen hunt. It was the first time I truly felt as though I had a son. Even if I have lost Gavin, at least I still have you.”

  Braeden didn’t know what to say. His throat stung, and the corners of his eyes were wet. Tears? No. Braeden didn’t cry.

  But Richard did. The retired king who had killed hundreds of isen and an untold number of yakona in battle now stood before Braeden in a foreign kingdom, crying. The tears were rare, even now, and slid down the sides of his face in just one or two thin streams. There was no sobbing. No sounds. Just a warm smile and happy tears.

  “Come here, my boy,” Richard said, beckoning with one hand.

  Braeden leaned down and hugged him again. When the shock faded and he still couldn’t bring himself to cry, he simply hugged his father tighter.

  This man was his father, not Carden.

  Richard took a deep breath. “Gavin might be beyond my ability to help, but you can still save him from the madness. Remind him what it means to be a king.”

  “I’ll try, Father.”

  Richard laughed and patted his shoulder. “Please always call me Father.”

  “I will.”

  Movement caught Braeden’s attention. At the far edge of their row, Gavin leaned against the garden wall with his arms crossed. His brows furrowed when he caught Braeden’s eye, his face a mask of cold hatred.

  Braeden loosened his grip on his adoptive father. Had Gavin been controlling Richard all this time? Had this just been a ploy to make Braeden weaker?

  Considering the strength of a yakona’s blood loyalty, how did Kara trust anyone in this world? How could she trust Braeden, even? He didn’t know how she did it.

  “May I have a word, Heir?” Gavin asked.

  Richard sucked in a small gasp at Gavin’s voice, and Braeden all but sighed with relief at the retired king’s legitimate surprise. That meant he hadn’t known Gavin was near. He’d spoken the truth. The look of hatred on Gavin’s face, though, implied he’d heard the confession. That was a problem.

  Braeden whispered in Richard’s ear. It was so quiet, he knew Gavin couldn’t have heard it. “Find Twin. Kara will be with her, and she will watch out for you.”