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

by S. M. Boyce

  “Now you know,” he said without moving, his voice muffled.

  Kara turned back to Demnug, who sighed with visible relief.

  “Now can I tell you all what happened?” she asked.

  An hour and a half later, Kara had explained everything to the small group which had assembled in the mansion’s war room on the first floor. They all insisted she sit in the head chair when they first came together, but many now glared at her, having learned the truth. Twin and Stone sat on either side of her, while Demnug settled into the free seat beside Twin. Remy took the chair by Stone. A myriad of yakona she didn’t recognize sat in the other seats around the table. The room’s doors stood open so that Kara faced a crowd of vagabonds. Some sat on the stairs, others on the floor, but all of them stared at her with mixed expressions of fear and respect.

  Flick sat in her lap, purring in his sleep as she scratched his ears. Richard was off trying to get a Grimoire to one of Twin’s names, but would be back in a few days. Kara wondered how he would react to her news.

  “And he, too, is an isen?” a Lossian asked, nodding to Stone.

  “Yes.” Kara rested her elbows on the table so that her hands hovered just in front of her lips.

  Remy piped up. “Have you stolen any souls, Vagabond?”

  “No, nor will I ever.”

  “So you say,” quipped an Ayavelian standing along the wall.

  “You can doubt me. I don’t care. Deirdre stole my father’s soul, and I will never force anyone to endure that slavery. It’s wrong.”

  “So you would really lead a mortal life?” Stone asked.

  “Yes.”

  Murmurs raced through the crowd.

  “I still adore you,” Twin said with a smile.

  Kara hid a small grin behind her hands and mouthed a hidden “thank you” to her friend. She cleared her throat before addressing the rest of the table.

  “If you don’t want to be led by an isen, you are free to leave. It’s been hard for me to accept, but it doesn’t change what I’m here to do. I’m the Vagabond, and for one reason or another, Twin trusts each of you to share this responsibility with me. If you leave, I ask only that you leave your Grimoire here so that we can replace you.”

  No one moved. But before Kara could let out a sigh of relief, a Hillsidian woman stood and made her way to the table. She unclasped the pendant from around her neck. Its stone glowed blue as she placed the necklace on the table.

  “I’m sorry, Vagabond, but I too lost someone to an isen, and I can never forgive your kind for my loss.”

  Kara nodded. “I think you’re wrong to judge us, but I can’t stop you. We’ll miss you, but you’re free to go.”

  The woman took a deep breath and walked out of the hall without catching anyone’s eye.

  “Anyone else? It’s now or never,” Kara said.

  A Lossian stood, followed by a Kirelm and three more Hillsidians. Each laid their pendants on the table beside the first, spoke their apology, and left. Kara’s jaw tensed more with each vagabond she lost. She hoped she wouldn’t lose any more. She closed her eyes and rested her face against her closed fists.

  “The rest of us will stay with you,” someone said from the crowd.

  Kara looked up to see the hall and war room still full. She let loose a relieved sigh. “Thank you all for not giving up.”

  A Kirelm in the hallway stepped forward. He nodded to Kara in a respectful bow before he spoke.

  “The Vagabond’s name was slandered in my town, but my parents always told me the truth of what he actually taught. He wanted peace, but he mostly wanted to remind us that we were once great. With our unity in Ethos came an era of power and understanding. I joined you to bring that back, and I will follow you to the death so long as you never waver from it.”

  A chorus of agreement rippled through the room in hushed voices. Kara sat up straight. She had no idea how to respond.

  Another homeless voice spoke up from the crowd. “The rumors of the vagabond’s army gave me hope that we could once again achieve greatness.”

  More murmurs. More consent.

  Demnug grinned. “We’ll follow you, Kara, because you still want to help the Bloods even after all they put you through. You still want to mend Ourea when most would have left its people to their pettiness, and that is commendable.”

  A Hillsidian at the table nodded. “I’m here because the Bloods have lost their way. You can remind them that this war they fight is for peace, not for glory.”

  “This war was never about peace,” Kara replied softly.

  The room hesitated. Everyone watched her in a lull that suffocated the sound from the room. But there was no use denying it anymore. Fearing the truth wasted time. She had to embrace it, warts and all.

  “This unity between the kingdoms is temporary unless we do something drastic to change their minds. For Gavin, this is revenge. For Aislynn, this is blind conviction. For Ithone and Frine, this is sport. Each has a different agenda, one that will dissolve once Carden is dead. If he dies. Their lack of faith in each other might be their biggest weakness. He isn’t above exploiting that.”

  “So what do we do?” Twin asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kara admitted.

  The room hushed, but Kara didn’t try to fill the silence. She didn’t know the answer yet, and she wasn’t going to rush into one now. She would come up with something, but she needed time.

  Eventually, a conversation began about training and supplies, but Kara couldn’t focus. She stared out the window, lost in a string of dire thoughts.

  Was there any point to this? Any hope? Her mind drifted to Adele and Garrett. They had been punished, possibly to death, for helping. And now, Kara understood why Verum opposed their intervention. They had trusted her, and that made them open targets. She doubted she would see them again.

  “Kara.”

  The voice snapped her from her musing. No one sat in the chairs anymore. Twin pulled herself onto the table a short ways off, a few wrinkles of concern around her eyes.

  Kara laughed. “I really checked out there, didn’t I?”

  “What were you thinking about? You looked so sad.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about—”

  Twin laughed. “Seriously? You dragged me away from my home and assigned me with a next-to-impossible task of creating an army, which I achieved—with flying colors, might I add. I think I get to hear the answer.”

  “I seem to recall you begging me to bring you here, actually.”

  Twin shrugged. “Details.”

  Kara grinned, but it faded away. “I don’t know if this is worth doing, Twin. Everything—and I mean everything—seems so hopeless. The Bloods turned against the muses and tried to enslave me. I really am starting to wonder why any of us should care anymore.”

  Twin stared at her feet, which hovered above the tiled floor, from where she sat on the table. Her eyes glazed over.

  She furrowed her eyebrows as if she was deep in thought. “Ourea has always been a dark place, Kara. I’ve never felt safe. I’ve never known what it meant to live without fear, not even in Hillside. I feel safer here in the village than I ever have anywhere else in my life, but we can still be found. You said Gavin knows where we are. We can use the lyth’s powers to hide the temple for a while, but not forever.

  “We vagabonds are a part of this now, and we have a chance to make things better. Maybe we can make the world a little brighter before we die. At least, that’s why I’m here. I’ve always wanted to make people smile. But for the first time in my life, I’m powerful enough to do more. I can help change things. You empowered us, Kara. Don’t give up. The rest of us need you to believe, or we’ll lose faith completely. We may have Grimoires too, but there is only one true Vagabond.”

  A smile crept across Kara’s face—slowly at first, but it grew into a grin. She shook her head, stood, and wrapped Twin in a Magari-bear-hug. It made her think of her dad, so she hugged Twin tighter.

 
; “Thank you,” Kara whispered.

  Twin hugged back. “Of course. We’ll figure this out.”

  “And we’ll leave the world a little better for it,” Kara agreed.

  Epilogue

  It Begins

  Deirdre slunk behind a tree and held her breath. The fragrant scent of a bed of nearby hyacinth flowers swirled in her nose. Their scent would mask the lilac and pine aroma for which isen were known. She’d chosen this field because she needed cover.

  The forest creatures carried on around her, oblivious to what she was about to do. And if that air-headed Ayavelian Blood would only show up, she wouldn’t be stuck waiting.

  But Deirdre could wait. She’d waited this long for her revenge, and soon—so soon—she would have it.

  She adjusted the Hillsidian sword strapped against her back in a sheath that kept it from touching her. She shuddered, remembering what the hilt had done to Carden’s hand. It hadn’t healed completely, either. It never would, even for all his body did to counteract it. She didn’t want to touch that sword until absolutely necessary.

  “General Krik?” a soft voice asked from somewhere nearby.

  Deirdre let herself breathe. She grinned. Niccoli’s lover was finally here.

  Skin flaked and cracked as Deirdre donned the appearance of the general Aislynn somehow trusted. She had no idea why; the man was an idiot. It only took a flirty eye and a few beers in a bar to lure him into a false sense of security. He belonged to her after four pints.

  She huffed. Lightweight.

  “Krik, you idiot!”

  Deirdre grimaced, remembering the way Aislynn had so freely used the word after the failed coup to steal the muse’s blood. She hated living the general’s life, mostly because Aislynn despised him. No matter. The queen wouldn’t be alive much longer, and Deirdre wouldn’t have to worry about keeping up the stupid general’s appearances after that.

  The last of Deirdre’s skin faded into the iridescent glow of Krik’s body. Her spine stretched, and his white hair flowed down around her ears.

  “My lady?” she asked in Krik’s voice to buy time. Ayavelians were complex creatures. Changing into one took longer than other forms, but it would only be a few moments more.

  “Where are you? Enough of this!” Aislynn snapped. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, the fear almost hidden by the curt tone.

  Good. Be afraid.

  The last of Deirdre’s façade pinched into place. She came out from behind the tree to find Aislynn eyeing the woods opposite. A billowing gown engulfed the thin queen’s frame. How could she move in such a thing? Her feet, her arms: the rush of fabric hid everything.

  What does Niccoli see in such a stupid, gullible creature?

  “Ah, there you are, my queen,” Deirdre said, still using Krik’s voice.

  Aislynn jumped, but recovered with a glare. “Why would you call me to the middle of the woods? What was so pressing that we couldn’t speak in the palace?”

  “We have a traitor, my lady,” Deirdre said, suppressing a grin. Yes, there was a traitor. There were several.

  “What on Earth—”

  Deirdre rushed into her prepared lie. “How else could the Vagabond have escaped? She was drugged, my queen. She shouldn’t have been able to open her eyes, much less escape. She had help. I have my suspicions, but with the other Bloods so close, there was no safe place to speak.”

  Aislynn’s eyes narrowed. “Who was it?”

  Deirdre knew, but she wouldn’t tell the queen. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, so she would lie to buy time.

  She ambled toward Aislynn, so as not to raise suspicion. She only needed to be a foot or so away. Then, Niccoli’s little queen would be hers.

  She was so very close.

  “I am uncertain, Majesty. I fear, though, that it is another Blood.”

  She walked behind the queen as if pacing and waited for Aislynn’s eyes to fade out of focus. Deirdre took one painfully slow step after another, biding her time until the queen’s defenses fell.

  Aislynn crossed her arms and stared into the distant trees.

  “No. Gavin’s not foolish enough to—”

  Deirdre’s heart stuttered in her chest.

  Now!

  She grabbed the sword from its sheath. It seared her hand, scorching Krik’s palm to the bone in the few seconds it took to unsheathe the sword. But it was all she needed.

  Aislynn turned too late. The blade sliced the skin from her right collarbone down and across to her left hip. Deirdre summoned the wind into her palm and threw it into the queen’s collarbone. The force propelled Aislynn backward into a tree. Bones cracked. The queen fell onto a pile of dead leaves.

  Deirdre groaned. Pain shot up her arm like fire and frost and lightning, all at once. She forced herself to slide the blade back into its sheath. White bone showed through the blistering skin on Krik’s hand. Blood festered and popped in the untreatable wound. Deidre marveled at Carden’s strength. She had underestimated him. Not only did he grab the Hillsidian Sartori, but he’d carried it back to the Stele.

  She tried and failed to flex her hand. No matter. She wouldn’t need Krik’s face again, anyway.

  Deirdre let the façade crack and peel away. When the general’s face disappeared, she examined her hands—smooth and flawless as ever.

  She glanced back to Aislynn. The Blood’s lips parted in horror.

  “‘How?’ ‘Who?’ ‘Why?’” Deirdre cooed in a mocking tone.

  “What have you done, Deirdre? I have no quarrel with you!”

  “Not directly, no. However, I am impressed you know my name.”

  “Every yakona does. You’re a monster.”

  “Perhaps.”

  The queen’s glittering blood trickled along the pale gown, almost identical in color. Deirdre poked the skin beside the festering cut. The blood sizzled.

  Aislynn stifled a scream. “Give me the sword. I will give you whatever you want if you let me make the antidote.”

  “And what is so precious about your life?” Deirdre asked.

  “What?” Aislynn asked.

  “You said I could have anything. If you truly believe I’m a monster, you just gave me the reins to toy with your kingdom. With your people. With you. And for what? What makes your life so worth living?”

  “A heartless thing like you wouldn’t understand.”

  Deidre frowned and glared down at her prey. She set one hand on the queen’s stomach. With the slightest of grins, she summoned magic to her fingertips.

  “That was the wrong thing to say, pretty little queen.”

  Thin rays of black lightning danced up Aislynn’s body. She froze. Only the occasional shudder broke through the paralysis. Her back arched. The muscles in her neck tightened until they threatened to pop from her skin.

  Deirdre didn’t stop until she saw the thinnest trail of smoke billow from the Blood’s lips. She pulled her hand away, and Aislynn gasped for air.

  “Think before you speak, yakona, and you might just live a few minutes longer.”

  Aislynn gagged and coughed. “What do you want?!”

  If the Ayavelian could barely handle that, this wouldn’t be as much fun as Deirdre had originally hoped.

  “I want Niccoli to feel the same pain I have felt every day since he killed Michael.”

  Aislynn’s eyes widened. “How—?”

  “I once loved a man more fiercely than you and that heartless bastard could ever dream. Niccoli took him from me. I failed once in my revenge, but I will not fail again. It will devastate him to see how much you suffered before death. Though it is nothing close to what I have endured, it will be some small compensation to watch him mourn.”

  “You’re insane,” Aislynn whispered.

  “We both are. Now, tell me. When you were with Carden, which of his tortures was your favorite? I’ve learned many things from that sadistic Blood.”

  Deirdre sat with one leg curled beneath her and leaned her elbow on her other knee as she
thought. She waved her hand through the air, summoning various techniques as she thought of them: icy blades flashed between her fingers; a current of yellow sparks snapped across her palm; hazy smoke coated her hand.

  Aislynn sucked in a breath and stifled a quiet whimper.

  Deirdre laughed. “Is that it, then? You enjoyed the slivers. Am I right?”

  The queen closed her eyes and held her breath.

  “I am! Good. I just learned this one, and I need the practice.”

  Deirdre summoned the shadows of the woods. They raced from their trees and twigs and pooled in her own shadow, deepening and darkening it until ribbons of black smoke rose from the mass.

  She pointed toward Aislynn, and the tendrils slid over her fingers until they dripped off of her. They wound closer to the queen, slithering over Aislynn’s dress like thin snakes. They coiled and slunk, inching closer to her face with each of the queen’s quick breaths. The occasional burst of white sparks running through the slivers illuminated Aislynn’s face as she trembled.

  Deirdre brushed the hair back from Aislynn’s ear. “Once you die, little queen, you should stick around for the show that follows. I am about to unleash a vengeance unlike any other, and my work has only just begun.”

  A sliver wound its way into Aislynn’s mouth. She screamed. She shrieked until the slithering smoke filled her lungs, and then she writhed in pain. She cried. She moaned. She begged for mercy.

  And Deirdre did not stop until the queen’s corpse began to fade away into dust.

  Two hours later, Deirdre hung the Hillsidian Sartori, safe in its makeshift sheath, back on the wall in Carden’s study. It hung alone on the wall, waiting to be joined by its long lost brothers.

  Carden might be insane, but at least he dreamed big.

  “How was your trip, isen?”

  Deirdre glanced over her shoulder to find Carden sitting in the arm chair by the fireplace. The room had been empty when she entered, but she was used to him simply popping up.

  “All went well. Aislynn is dead.”

  “It worries me that you won’t tell me why you were so willing.”