by S. M. Boyce
Braeden appeared overhead when the room stopped spinning. He grabbed her shoulders, lifted her to her feet, and shoved her into a wall.
He raised the sword to her throat. “This is your final chance, Stone.”
She grimaced. “Braeden, I know this is hard to understand. I didn’t want to believe it either. But this is who I am, and you have to accept—”
“STOP!” he yelled.
Kara’s ears rang after his outburst. “Wh—”
“You aren’t Kara! I would have known if she was an isen, even an unawakened one, and she wasn’t! She was beautiful, stubborn, perfect, and the only reason I’m even fighting this useless war. And you took her from me!”
Kara’s lips parted in shock. The sword tip dug deeper into her skin, cutting her, but she barely registered the prick. A hot bead of blood fell down the arch of her neck. The low collar of her shirt absorbed it.
Braeden’s eyes shook. He glared at her, his face a mask of hatred. As much as Kara wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, she knew she couldn’t. He would probably cut her hand off.
He raised his arm higher, so that she could see the whole sword in her peripheral vision. Numbness ate into her body, freezing her in place. No amount of anger could shake the disbelief.
Even though she wouldn’t let him do it, he actually wanted to kill her.
The clang of metal falling to the polished stone floor pulled her from her revelation as quickly as it came. Braeden released her and sank to his knees.
He stared at the tiles. “I can’t kill you when you look like her. I could never hurt her, even if I know she’s not really there. You win, Stone. But take me, too, and at least she and I can be together in some small way.”
“Braeden—”
He glared up at her, and she forgot whatever she’d meant to say. His eyebrows twisted. His fists tightened, and his strength dissolved into grief.
“I loved her, Stone. I still do, and I always will, even if we’re nothing but souls.”
Kara’s heart fluttered and did a sickening plop into her stomach immediately after. He would let an isen steal his soul because he thought she was dead. He would sacrifice his kingdom. He would give up life and the control over his own soul because he couldn’t be with her anymore.
Braeden loved her.
Kara dropped to her knees and lifted his face in her hands. He smiled and grimaced at the same time. There weren’t any words to fix this situation, so they sat there in silence.
Stone walked into the room. “Oh, hello, Braeden. Lucky for you, I bought whiskey while I was out, since you two are nigh inseparable.”
The old isen stopped a few yards off, a large picnic basket in one hand. A head of lettuce and the brown neck of a whiskey bottle stuck from one of the basket’s open lids.
Braeden stuttered. Kara couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She stood and tried to hide the gaping hole in her shirt from where the love of her life had tried to stab her.
“Then who—?” Braeden finally asked.
Stone headed for the kitchen. “Boy, you’re smarter than that. Who do you think that is?”
Kara looked over to Braeden just as he turned to her, and neither of them breathed. She couldn’t hold his gaze, however, and looked to the floor as she spoke.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, Braeden. I didn’t learn about any of this until Glasgow. I can tell you everything later, if you want. But if you can’t handle what I am, you can leave. I won’t bother you again if you do.”
She headed up the stairs to her room. He didn’t move. He didn’t even come for her after she closed her bedroom door.
She slid against the wood paneling until she reached the floor, head in her hands. Braeden loved her. With a small, happy pang, she admitted she loved him, too.
But after everything they had been through, he had waited until he thought she was dead to tell her how much she meant to him. Why would he have waited so long if he loved her enough to sacrifice himself to an isen? She had pushed him away, yes, but she’d had no idea how far he would go to keep her safe.
Kara pushed herself to her feet, walked toward the bed, and sat on top of the comforter. She didn’t even have the heart to smile. If love was supposed to be a happy thing, why did she want to cry?
Chapter 29
Terms
Braeden leaned into the hard folds of Stone’s couch, thinking hard. He was still trying to process everything.
He loved Kara. But she was an isen. A demon.
Was he any better?
He sighed deeply. No.
“You look like you could use a drink,” Stone said.
A glass half-filled with brown liquid and ice slid across the coffee table. Braeden grabbed and downed it without a second thought.
“You love her, right?” Stone asked.
Braeden’s jaw tensed, but he nodded before he could help himself.
Stone leaned back in one of the nearby chairs and took a sip from his own glass. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I thought she was you. I almost killed her, Stone.”
“Right, and while I won’t forget that gut reaction of yours, I’ll excuse it for the moment. You tried to kill her. What does that matter? You didn’t.”
“Not for a lack of trying.”
“Her new strength is impressive, but you’re a fair match for her at the moment. I think if you’d wanted her dead, she’d be dead. She’s powerful, but also exhausted and emotionally spent. She hasn’t mastered her new gifts yet. She didn’t want to hurt you and wouldn’t have. You probably could have killed her. So why didn’t you?”
Braeden figured it was a rhetorical question. He didn’t bother answering.
Stone leaned back in his chair. “You’re close to losing her, boy. Every second you spend down here, she loses a little more faith in you.”
“Why do you care, Stone?”
The isen rubbed his cheek. “That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s very relevant.”
Stone shrugged. “Vagabonds aren’t fragile. They’re strong, heroic, and powerful, sure, but they are so often unhappy. It’s the unhappiness that destroys them. I watched it happen to so many, right down to the first Vagabond himself. You are the only thing left in this world—besides that teleporting ball of fur—that makes Kara truly happy.”
Braeden stared at the floor. Kara couldn’t be very happy with him at the moment.
“Her room is up the stairs, first door on the left. You’re a prince, for Blood’s sake. Be a man.” Stone grabbed the glasses off the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen, their talk apparently over.
Braeden took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. His boots tapped across the stone steps as he made his way to the hallway above. A sconce every five feet or so blazed with fire. The light illuminated a row of perfectly spaced wooden doors that disappeared around a corner farther off.
He leaned his head against the first door and set his hands on either side of the doorframe to brace himself. Two minutes passed before he could bring himself to knock. He still had no idea what to say.
No one answered.
He knocked again, louder this time.
Silence.
He twisted the doorknob. It turned, and the door creaked inward.
The room didn’t have much furniture—only a bed and a dresser. Kara sat on the bed with her back against the headboard. She stared out the window, most of her face hidden in the shadows of the dark room. She didn’t acknowledge him or look over as he entered.
Braeden walked in and closed the door behind him. “I came to apologize, Kara. I want to figure this out.”
He sat on the other side of the bed. Her head remained in the shadow, but his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Dried streaks of tears stained her face, and she still wouldn’t look at him.
He sighed and pulled her into a hug. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t hug him back, either.
She shook her head. “What is there to
figure out? I’m the thing you hate.”
Braeden flinched. She’d just quoted him from all those months ago, when she drove him to her father’s rental house in that disgusting, multi-colored car.
He kissed the side of her head. “I could never hate you. All I ever wanted was for you to be safe. I only took you to Dailly to keep you out of the fray.”
“You disarmed me. Without my Grimoire, I had no way of knowing how to get back to Ourea.”
“Agreed. I’m sorry.”
She pulled away and pushed him back against the headboard. “You didn’t trust me. That’s why you tried to keep me away from everything. I’m the Vagabond. I can’t be protected.”
He kept his voice steady. “Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t get close to me because you didn’t trust me to take care of myself. We’re both at fault here.”
She didn’t respond. After a moment, she looked at the floor.
Braeden inched closer. “Still, you’re right. I made you vulnerable without realizing it. I only hid you because there were too many chances for you to get hurt. I knew you wouldn’t stay in the village for long. You just have to be in the middle of everything!”
She sat up, her back arching like a queen’s. “That’s not your call!”
Braeden nodded. “You’re right. It wasn’t my call, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever make a choice for me like that again.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll never forgive you if you do. Never.”
“I understand.”
“You left me, Braeden.” Her voice shook. She stared at the comforter, eyes out of focus.
He leaned in and cradled her head in his palm. Her soft hair spilled over his arm. If they never moved—if he could just hold her like this forever—he would be happy.
“I just wanted you to be safe, Kara. I knew you wouldn’t like it, that maybe you’d hate me for it, but I couldn’t lose you. After the Bloods openly attacked you, I didn’t think I had another choice.”
“You were one of the last people I could trust, Braeden, and you abandoned me while I was unconscious.”
He sighed and let go of her cheek, but she leaned her head against his shoulder and reached her left hand around his waist. Since he couldn’t see her face from this angle, he kissed her head.
“Like I said in my letter, I hope you can forgive me someday. That doesn’t have to be now. Doesn’t have to be ever. But I do love you, Kara. I have for a while.”
“Then why did you wait to tell me until you thought I was dead?”
“I didn’t want you to shun me in an attempt to keep me safe.”
She didn’t answer. He suppressed a smile. It was exactly what she would have done if he’d told her.
He wrapped his arms around her. “I always figured there would be a better time to tell you, maybe when the war was over. I never thought I’d have to face losing you. To me, you’re the last thing worth protecting in an otherwise broken world. Ourea doesn’t deserve you. I don’t, either, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive. Even—”
“—even if it means I never speak to you again?”
He sighed and burrowed his cheek against her neck. Soft strands of her cold hair fell against his face, tickling him. Several minutes passed in silence. After a while, she laced the fingers of her left hand through his. Her right hand, which must have held the still-hidden barb, lay flat on the blanket.
“Braeden, I thought loving you would make me weak. That’s what the Vagabond told me, that love is a weakness. He used you against me to create more vagabonds. I mean, I wouldn’t have done it if your life hadn’t been at stake. That scared me. Your life had more meaning than anyone else’s. I didn’t think I could help Ourea if one life was more important than the greater good.”
She paused, lost in thought for a moment. She ran her finger along his palm, and he didn’t interrupt.
“But I faced Death when Stone turned me. You have to have a reason to live, to come back, and you have to prove to him that you want it. You can’t lie to Death.”—Kara looked him in the eye—“Braeden, I came back to make a difference, but I mostly wanted to come back for a chance to live a full life…and that includes you.”
His throat went dry. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. ‘Thanks’ wouldn’t exactly cut it.
She continued. “I love you, Braeden. After everything we’ve endured, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather get into trouble with.”
He laughed, and his grip on her hand tightened. He hugged her as tightly as he could for as long as she would let him. After several minutes, she shifted her weight and leaned into him.
“Can you forgive me, then?” he asked.
“As long as you swear to never do anything like that ever again, even if I am in danger. You can’t shut me out.”
He nodded into her neck. She hummed. Apparently, silence had been the right answer.
She lifted her lips to his, but stopped a few inches from his face. Her gray eyes locked on him. His throat went dry again.
A wave of her new lilac-pine scent crashed over him. Panic flooded his body. The smell had a pleasant twist to it, but to him it meant danger. He wondered if he could ever get over the smell he’d been trained half his life to track.
For her, he would try.
She leaned in closer and brushed her nose against his. The touch sent sparks running through him that twisted his gut into a knot. He ran his fingers through her hair and held the back of her head. She smiled, and it took all of his self-control to not pull her toward him. He wanted her to initiate this one.
Kara ran her left thumb along his eyebrow and down along his cheek, until it brushed his lip. Finally, she closed the space between them.
She pressed her lips against his in a hot rush that sent streaks of heat through his neck and down to his fingers. His breath caught, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want her to ever pull away, not now that he finally had her.
The room faded. His stomach lifted. Happiness buzzed through him. He kissed her again and again and again, until they lost track of time.
He leaned back against the headboard and pulled her toward him, trapping her in a hug. He kissed her neck and few times more. She giggled and swatted his nose.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I should go back to the Bloods and try to talk some sense into them. I don’t think you should come with me.”
“Not yet,” she agreed.
He sighed with relief. That had been easier than he’d thought.
She drew circles on his chest with her finger. He grinned, her touch nearly making him forget what they’d been talking about.
“What will you do?” he asked.
“Drag Stone to the village. I need to learn more about being an isen, but I also need to see how Twin and Richard are doing.”
“Thank you for taking Richard.”
“You’re welcome. I think Twin was happy to have a friend with her.”
“I’m not surprised you made her a vagabond,” he admitted.
“Apparently, neither is Gavin.”
“He knows?”
“He guessed and forgave me, but I think the forgiveness was a ploy to make me agree to his little marriage proposal.”
Braeden tensed and pulled her into his chest.
She laughed. “I’d never have agreed. You can relax.”
He did, but he didn’t let go. Her laugh faded into a smile, and he couldn’t look away.
“I missed you, Braeden,” she said.
“I missed you, too.”
He lifted her chin and brought her lips closer. She teased him and brushed her nose against his cheek instead. It left a tingling trail of warmth on his skin. After a moment, she reached her mouth to his. Warmth coursed down his neck. He set a hand on her waist. She hummed again, the sound vibrating through him. It took all his effort to not pin her on the
comforter. After what she’d gone through, she probably wanted a quiet night. Other desires could come later.
She buried her head against his neck and sighed. He relished the cold night coming through the windows, and neither spoke. Braeden’s thoughts drifted to Iyra, who was no doubt hunting. In the morning, he would have to find her. He couldn’t leave the Bloods alone for long.
His grip around Kara tightened. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to face the Bloods or the responsibility of finally accepting his role as Heir to the Stele. He sighed, the breath stirring the curls on Kara’s neck.
“Kara, could you ask the Grimoire something for me?”
She groaned. “Can I not be the Vagabond tonight? I’m tired.”
He laughed. “C’mon. It’ll be quick.”
She adjusted and leaned back against him before summoning the Grimoire from her pendant. The book settled on her lap as Braeden wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Your question, my lord?” she asked with a grin.
His smile faded. “Is it possible for me to completely break my Blood loyalty to Carden without becoming a vagabond? I disobeyed a mandate not to leave, and I’ve disobeyed his commands, but I’m always tempted to obey. I barely won my last fight with him, and I had the element of surprise. I won’t get that again.”
She sighed and turned to the book without prodding for more detail, for which he was grateful. She mumbled in a language Braeden couldn’t understand, and the book’s pages flipped to a page with blurred text. Braeden didn’t bother looking—the letters would continuously shift if he tried to read them, just as they had the first time he’d watched Kara use the book.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Braeden. If there’s a way, the Grimoire doesn’t know about it. It didn’t even know you could resist.”
Braeden suppressed a groan. “It’s okay. I just thought I’d ask.”
Kara set the book aside. They settled into silence and listened again to the crickets. After a few minutes, she lifted her right hand and began looking at the thin barb in her palm. Braeden flinched at the sight of it. She sighed.
Guilt churned in his stomach. “Kara, I’m sorry.”
