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

by S. M. Boyce

  Braeden leaned back into the table. Panic set his heart racing.

  His father paced around the table. “Your friends sent you here. You would never come back without an agenda. You’ve already run at every chance you’ve had. You’ve always run, Braeden! Like a coward! You’ve hidden when any other Heir would have fought. So why would you come back unless you were trying to help those other Bloods? You’re pathetic!

  “I know a loyal man when I see one. I also know how to break a loyal man so that all he remembers is what I tell him to believe. It’s a lesson I was trying to teach you with Aislynn all those years ago. You could have been truly great, Braeden. But now I must start again. Now, I will burn the defiance out of you forever.”

  Carden stood at the foot of the table, blocking Braeden’s view of the mirrors. The king’s hands changed color from dark charcoal gray to a hot, fiery orange. Steam radiated from his fingers, which lost their defined outline. They simmered and shook as if they were melting, as if the slightest touch would send them spilling to the floor like molten rock out of a kiln.

  “Carden, don’t—”

  But Carden grinned and set his steaming hands on Braeden’s feet.

  Searing pain roared up Braeden’s body. He screamed. The spiked chains tore rips into his skin as he thrashed, trying to escape. His boots melted, bits of the liquid leather sticking to his skin as it cooled. He couldn’t see his feet, but knew they would burn to a crisp from Carden’s molten touch.

  He would never escape this.

  “Come now, boy. You’re stronger than that,” Carden said with a laugh.

  The Stelian Blood let go. Aches ripped through Braeden’s feet. His legs twitched, and a sting raced up his side each time.

  Carden paced around the side of the table and stopped at Braeden’s torso.

  “Please, no—”

  “You are a coward. Don’t worry. I’ll burn that out of you as well.”

  Carden set his molten hands on Braeden’s chest, but didn’t stop there. He traced one finger up Braeden’s neck and up his cheek. Braeden screamed again. Carden allowed it.

  Burnt skin and singed fabric clogged Braeden’s nose until he thought he would either vomit or pass out from the overwhelming stench.

  In the mirror, he could see a trail from his stomach to his left eye, a steaming black line that marked Carden’s path. His shirt’s fibers melted to his skin. Red embers simmered in the scarred tissue.

  “Do hold still,” Carden said from behind him.

  The two molten hands grabbed each side of Braeden’s head. The splintering pain was too much. Agony tore apart his mind, snapping and stripping his resolve. Everything burned away—his hair, his skin, his hope.

  Braeden didn’t even know if he was screaming anymore. He couldn’t hear. The world fell perfectly silent, marred only by the intense pain coursing through his skull. It bubbled on his face.

  He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the rest.

  At some point, Carden left. Braeden knew that only because the pain receded long enough to hear again. His ear rang, the sound a deafening roar after the incessant, painful silence.

  His sight returned next, though he wished he couldn’t see once he looked at himself in the mirror. Black blood dripped from his fingers into pools on the floor, or fell from the half-tattered clothes hanging from his body. Black handprints and trails from Carden’s burning hands covered everything.

  Carden hadn’t stopped with the molten hands. That had been the warm up. The scorched patches on Braeden’s shoulder, stomach, and legs meant that, somewhere along the way, Carden had switched to using controlled bursts of lightning. Jagged lines had been carved into Braeden’s arms. Little remained of his boots, though the soles had melted into the skin on the bottom of his feet.

  And this was only the beginning.

  He groaned and shifted his weight. The chains ripped new holes in him, so he tried to lay still. So far, he hadn’t revealed anything—at least, he didn’t think so. There were moments he couldn’t remember, wounds that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Carden might have left to release a herd of troops to take care of the Bloods while he finished—

  “Oh good, you’re awake.”

  The voice came from the stairs, but Braeden didn’t have to turn his head to know Carden was back.

  “You’re a good deal stronger than I gave you credit for, boy. I admire that. But my patience is running low, as I have things to do.”

  Carden stepped into view. Braeden looked up from half-raised eyelids—oh, Bloods. He had two black eyes as well.

  Braeden forced a raspy laugh. “Show me what you got.”

  “That’s my boy,” Carden answered.

  The room darkened, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. The darkness continued, fast and sudden, until the only light came from Carden’s palm. The Blood stared into his hand, apparently focusing his energy.

  The darkness splintered. Each of the black shards pulsed, shivering and rippling as they snaked their way into Carden’s palm. White sparks broke in waves across each one as it floated. The room’s light returned more with each shadow that lay in Carden’s palm or wrapped itself around his arm.

  Braeden choked on a gasp. He tensed.

  No.

  Carden smiled. “Ah, you do remember the slivers. It’s my favorite technique. I tried to teach it to you with Aislynn. Do you remember that? She must have endured that for, what, two days? Three? You just never quite got it right. Usually, a yakona doesn’t survive that much exposure to the slivers, though I can’t imagine she was ever the same after that. The slivers never leave a yakona the same as he was before.”

  Braeden tried to push away, but the chains held him tight. His strength was gone. His resilience was gone. If he had to endure the slivers, there was no telling what he would be when Carden finished. Aislynn had likely only survived because Braeden hadn’t ever been able to go through with torturing her himself.

  “Welcome home, boy.” Carden sneered.

  The slivers dove from the Blood’s palm onto Braeden’s stomach. One pushed under his shirt and forced its way into his belly button. Braeden yelled, twisting as he flexed his stomach in an effort to fight it off. The rest slunk into the wounds on his body or wriggled toward his face, burning whatever skin they touched.

  One pushed into his mouth. He gagged. It scratched his tongue, as if the thing had a million clawed legs propelling it forward. He tried to scream, but another forced its way in after the first.

  White light broke across the back of his eyelids. It was only a flash, but with it came relief. Peace.

  The white light faded away as quickly as it had come. He reached for it with his mind. Instead, different images spun past: the Queen, Gavin, Richard, Mother.

  He grabbed the first memory he could. Mother’s face came into view, smiling as she kissed his nose. She said something, her voice echoing incoherently in his mind. Ice splintered across his nose. He shivered.

  The slivers raced into the memory, wrapping themselves around her. She didn’t react, apparently oblivious to the smoky things slithering into her ears and mouth. Her eyes turned red, and her sweet voice became Carden’s booming laugh.

  Braeden pushed away. Carden was taking everything—even his memories. He couldn’t. Braeden wouldn’t let him.

  He reached for the Queen, for Gavin, for Richard—but each had the same effect. Their faces became distorted ghosts, their voices the resounding boom of Carden’s laughter.

  Braeden pushed away again, with nothing to grasp for anymore. This was it. He had truly lost.

  A hand reached around his waist. The flash of white broke across his vision again, and with it came that same wave of peace. But this wasn’t just a flicker; it remained. As long as the hand touched him, Braeden would be safe.

  He looked down to see small, pale hands wrapped around him, as if someone hugged him from behind. He turned to see a blond head smiling up at him.

  “Kara,” he said. Relief
flooded through him.

  But—this was all in his head. None of this was real.

  “Don’t question it,” she said, as if she read his thoughts.

  She pulled him away from the darkness and slivers. The two of them floated in the vacant white relief from the pain.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Let go,” she answered.

  “Let go of what? I’m not letting go of you.”

  She smiled. “Let go of the pain. Leave that behind.”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Just try.”

  He nodded. “Distract me.”

  She grinned and kissed his neck. “I think I can do that.”

  His skin flushed, and he gripped her tighter. He ran a hand through her hair.

  She leaned into his chest and sighed. “That’s better. Don’t think about anything but being here with me.”

  “Where are we?”

  “In the deepest part of your mind, where Carden can never find you. It’s the goodness you’ve developed despite everything, the kindness and love you’re capable of even though you were born to kill. Hide here with me, and he’ll never find us.”

  Braeden pulled her closer. The relief grew stronger.

  “I won’t let you go, Braeden. You’re safe here.”

  This wasn’t real. He knew that much. This was a safeguard. He had retreated, unable to stomach the pain or the fear anymore. But he wanted to believe in it anyway, this alternate world where Kara would always be with him, because it was all he had left to hold on to.

  “When this is over, let’s run away. Let’s escape,” he said.

  She laughed. The sound rang in the void. “Where to?”

  “Someplace far away from everything. I don’t know. Russia? Australia? Europe?”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to Europe.”

  “Okay, Europe it is,” he said.

  “Where in Europe?”

  “Scotland? I love Scotland. It’s full of tiny villages where everyone knows everyone else, and we can just hide from the rest of the world. There’s this one town called Dailly—I found it on an isen hunt years back. It’s beautiful.”

  “Then we’ll go to Dailly,” she said with a laugh.

  The flash of white faded away, and Kara’s face disappeared along with it. She faded into nothing, reaching for him as she disappeared.

  “What the—? Kara!” he called.

  “Come back!” she said.

  Braeden snapped his eyes open. Darkness filled the torture chamber, and the only light came from the silver moon barely visible through the windows on the far wall. The mirrors tempted him to examine his wounds, but Braeden didn’t want to know how much worse it had gotten.

  Pain broke along the side of his body, but he didn’t stay long enough to find out what it was. He closed his eyes and slipped back into his mind, hunting for the flash of white that meant safety.

  “That was close,” Kara said in his ear.

  He opened his eyes. The white void returned. His head lay in Kara’s lap, and she smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair.

  “Don’t let me leave again,” he said.

  She shushed him and ran her fingers along his face. The touch sent shivers of joy up his spine. He could barely move, but he would allow himself to enjoy her touch. In a world full of pain, it was a blessing to have her.

  “You can’t stay long,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re almost awake again.” She laid a protective arm across his chest.

  “I don’t ever want to wake up. I don’t want to go back.”

  “If you don’t, the real me will die. She needs you, Braeden. I’m just your imagination.”

  “But Carden—”

  “All tyrants eventually fail,” she interrupted.

  “Not if I’m his slave. It would be impossible to fight him.”

  She grinned. “Sometimes, ‘impossible’ just means you have to try harder.”

  Her words rang a distant bell. They were familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.

  “Bye, Braeden. Stay good.”

  “I don’t want—”

  He coughed and sputtered. The white void faded away. He opened his eyes once more to sunlight streaming through the windows. He avoided looking in the mirror.

  All he had was the lingering thought that Carden had dismissed the slivers. They were gone.

  “Say it again,” a dark voice commanded in his ear.

  Braeden looked up to see Carden. He had choice words for his father, but he could only remember wanting to tell Kara not to let him leave.

  Instead, his mouth spoke for him.

  “I was supposed to lure you into an ambush in Lutirena Gorge with the false story that Blood Gavin is camping with a small army and can be easily taken. The Bloods will be waiting there with their armies. They’ll kill you. I believe they will also try to kill me, but I was prepared for that so long as I killed you first.”

  Braeden tensed. He had just revealed everything, and in an emotionless monotone. His mind and body had acted as separate entities.

  Carden grinned. “Good boy. That is a clever trick on their part. I guess we’ll just have to bring a bigger army.”

  Braeden wanted to scream at him, to curse and yell and fight, but his body wouldn’t allow it.

  Carden cracked his neck. “In the meantime, you and I can actually begin now that you’re finally cooperating.”

  The Blood’s hands began to heat up once more, until they steamed like molten rock. Braeden pressed his head back into the table and closed his eyes. This wouldn’t end well, but at least he could retreat into his mind. As long as he had Kara, he might still come out of this with his free thought intact.

  Chapter 18

  Revealed

  Kara awoke with a throbbing headache. Bile stung the back of her throat. Her tongue ached and stuck to the roof of her mouth. All she wanted was water. How long had she been out?

  A convoluted mess of memories spun through her head. Aislynn had chained her. Adele had been captured. There was screaming—Adele’s screaming. The sound rang again in Kara’s head, deafening and painful. But Garrett had come—and in his glare, blamed Kara for everything.

  He could have saved Kara, too, but he left her shackled on the floor.

  Something bumped against her foot. She opened her eyes—they hadn’t been opened before? The world blurred by, like she was moving. Her mind raced.

  What was I thinking about?

  Two guards dragged her through a stone hallway. The heavy shackles no longer hung around her wrists, but the spikes’ poison still racked her body. Scars from the spikes dotted her skin. Her veins tightened with each movement.

  A flickering, lucid thought revolved around how she wouldn’t be able to think straight until the poison worked its way out of her system. Magic, at this point, would be too much to manage.

  A swish of fabric caught Kara’s attention. A tall Ayavelian woman walked just ahead. Her arched back came to a regal head adorned with a thin tiara.

  Evelyn.

  “How—” Kara meant to ask how long she’d been unconscious, or ask for the date, but her voice came out as barely more than a whisper. She wanted to vomit, but knew she would be too weak to even manage that.

  How pathetic.

  “Stop,” Evelyn said to the guards.

  They obeyed. Kara hung between them, unable to stand. Evelyn spread her thin fingers toward Kara, and the Grimoire pendant unclasped itself from around her neck as if on command. It floated into the princess’s pocket.

  “Hey—” was all Kara could muster.

  “You have been unconscious for three days. You had an allergic reaction to the cuffs’ poison.”

  Evelyn’s eye twitched. Kara squinted. Had the princess just lied? Three days didn’t just disappear like that, allergic reaction or no.

  Evelyn cleared her throat. “Just do yourself a favor and be silent. That mouth of you
rs is one of your worst vices.”

  Kara forced herself to speak louder, which made her voice crack. “This is a mistake. Aislynn made a mistake! Don’t become as heartless as her.”

  “I am focused, not heartless.”

  “You had me fooled.”

  The princess narrowed her eyes and, for a second, looked as if she would hit Kara. Instead, she took a deep breath. “Apparently, fooling you is not that difficult.”

  Kara cringed. Yep. That stung more than any slap could.

  Evelyn turned to a set of doors nearby and pushed them open. The guards followed her inside, dragging the otherwise immobile Kara with them.

  The doors led to a large room with vaulted ceilings. Fire burned in a few sconces along the wall, illuminating the shadows. Windows covered a wall to the right. Outside, a silver moon hung above a still forest.

  The doors slammed shut behind her, and the sconces burned brighter at the sound. A large table consumed most of the room, its chairs filled either by a Blood or his Heir. In Ithone’s case, however, Gurien took Aurora’s place.

  Each of the yakona leaders stared at the table or out of the window, eyes out of focus. Some covered their mouths with their hands, while others leaned back in their chairs and rubbed their temples. Apparently, it had been a long and anxious night for them as well.

  Gavin caught Kara’s eye—the only one to do so. She shook her head in disgust. He swallowed hard and turned away.

  She suppressed the second urge to vomit as she realized the truth.

  “You all knew,” she said, her voice hoarse from the pain and queasiness.

  “We did,” Gavin admitted. He wouldn’t look at her this time.

  Evelyn cleared her throat. “Everything was going as planned until the muse’s companion interrupted. Aislynn was unable to complete the ritual and is currently ill because it was ended early, but it looks like she will heal in just a few days. We knew that was a risk. The Vagabond didn’t take well to the poisoned shackles and has only just awoken.”

  Frine leaned his elbows on the table. “It looks more like you didn’t take the shackles off of her. Look at her. Has she even eaten since the incident?”