Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga (14 page)

He set his arm against a tree trunk for balance. His heart settled. The desire to kill simmered below the surface. He acknowledged it. It would always be there. His natural love of pain and fear would never go away, no matter how much he wanted it to disappear. His inner masochist would survive regardless of how much he loved Kara or his people or anything else. He was Stelian, after all. This hatred was a part of him, as much as he loathed it. He couldn’t allow it to rule his life. He couldn’t let it take over and make him do something he would regret.

When his pulse evened, he turned. Aurora stood by the fire pit, arms crossed.

“Let’s try that again,” Braeden said.

Braeden spent three hours in the clearing with Aurora. He expected a temper as hot as Kara’s, but the princess remained focused. After her brush with Braeden’s darker side, she didn’t speak except to acknowledge him whenever he corrected her. She kept her wing in tight throughout most of the sparring and often repeated mistakes only once or twice. Silver blood stained most of her clothing by the end of their sparring session. Rips and holes covered a good deal of the fabric, but she didn’t seem to care. Though Braeden attacked without reservation, he was careful to aim such that the princess could maintain her modesty.

Her years of doing as she was told and biting her tongue manifested in fierce determination. The princess had a focus even Braeden envied. She pushed through every drill, absorbing his criticism like a sponge. He taught her only a few techniques, but she promised to practice them in her time alone. Braeden had no doubt she would improve quickly.

Time sped by. Every day, Braeden planned his grand attack on the Stele. And every night he wasn’t on a scouting trip, he trained Aurora in their clearing. She never again asked to join him on his trips, which he figured had something to do with his outburst. His anger seemed to scare her into submission. He had two similar incidents during those first few days, but he kept himself in check. The anger didn’t own him, and he didn’t want to kill her. He began to admire her dedication, though he didn’t quite like her yet.

After one week, Aurora could finally dodge most of Braeden’s simpler attacks. After two weeks, she could improvise during a fight. Her strategies weren’t altogether clever, but Braeden had high hopes for her. After three weeks, the princess landed her first hit on Braeden’s toe. It only nicked him, but he grinned with pride nonetheless. By week four, Aurora learned eight techniques and managed to burn the hem of Braeden’s shirt twice.

Meanwhile, Braeden’s Stelian scouting missions grew more interesting with every trip. Seven new guard towers emerged overnight in some pockets of the Stelian forests. Troops gathered in remote areas, away from the castle. Patrols along the main fortress walls waned, as if Carden was preparing for a fight at the far edges of his kingdom. Braeden tracked the movements in a journal, not quite sure what to make of the changes.

The attack plan itself came along nicely with his growing arsenal of information from his scouting trips. He often had to force himself to work, though, since the pull to outline new lessons for Aurora distracted him. He managed to balance his two projects well enough.

On occasion, Gurien and Aurora would sneak to Braeden’s study and play chess or discuss war strategy while he studied his notes on the Stele. He could ignore them, but occasionally glanced up when a lull settled on the couple’s conversation. He sometimes found Gurien admiring Aurora as she focused on her next chess move, but he once caught Aurora smiling at the general with a hint of desire in her eyes. Braeden tried not to look up again. He wished they could meet in some other room, but his was the only one from which the Bloods were banned.

Aurora’s progress—and her attitude—improved every day. But throughout her lessons, Braeden’s nightmares grew worse. He frequently dreamed of Ithone’s hands around his neck. The forest burned behind the Blood, who glared at Braeden with cold hatred. And every night, the crack of his own neck breaking in the dream jolted Braeden awake.

CHAPTER NINE

A VOW

After Kara returned from her grandfather’s abandoned home, it took her two weeks to master the brick wall. When she finally shot a fireball through the hole and hit the target on the other side, she ran a victory lap around the entire village before she came back to Stone for her next assignment. She figured she’d graduated to the next level of training. Instead, he made her tackle the wall again. And again.

With only a few exceptions, Kara succeeded every time.

Her success came once she discovered the trick to her patience: Braeden. When her temper rose, she imagined his smile. Her heart would settle, and she could focus after a few deep breaths. Considering the depth of Stone’s training, Kara needed all the warm thoughts of Braeden she could muster. In the week after she conquered the bricks, Stone revealed an endless array of new exercises. Each tested her patience more than the last.

Every day, Kara woke up before the sun rose and went to bed long after everyone else. Flick always watched her lessons, but he and Stone were her only company. She barely interacted with her vagabonds. With her new regimen, she didn’t have time to do more than train. And considering her grandfather’s failures, she didn’t mind sacrificing relaxation with friends if it meant she would learn control. She left the tasks of leadership and governing to Twin and the ghost of the first Vagabond, who made himself visible to the yakona in her village.

Instead of raising morale or welcoming new recruits, Kara withdrew to focus on Stone’s training. In the solitude of their forest, she and her master ran drills, meditated, and explored the depths of Kara’s magic. She tracked her mentor’s movements blindfolded, chased squirrels, and even cooked her own meals with nothing but the flame in her hand. If she burnt the food, he forced her to eat it anyway. It only took a few days of crispy dinners before Kara figured out how to rein in the fire. After that, she had to cook Stone’s meals, too. She still ate whatever she burned.

Stone also taught her to levitate solid objects by curving the air around them. Her first attempts on branches ended in splintered wood, as the force of her focus blew the timber to bits. But as she improved, she graduated to bricks, logs, and eventually liquids. The day she could levitate water without it dribbling all over the ground, Stone took a cup from the kitchen and set it at the top of the mountain. For several hours every morning, she had to carry a floating ball of water up the nearest mountain and drop it in the glass multiple times. If she had any surplus, she carried it back down to the well in the same manner.

No matter what Stone demanded of her, Kara never groaned. She never rolled her eyes. She obeyed and listened to everything he said. Witnessing her grandmother’s murder had changed her. Seeing her mother’s childhood gave her hope. To avoid becoming Agneon, Kara would do whatever it took to master herself, and Stone’s endless lessons were her last resort.

After taking water to the cup at the top of the mountain for the four hundredth time, Kara collapsed under a tree near the clearing that had become her training ground. Stone stood just inside the treeline somewhere, but she couldn’t lift her head to look for him.

Her body ached. Thanks to four weeks of solid training, her muscles screamed with every movement. It didn’t matter that she only threw fireballs or cooked food; the focus necessary to control herself took as great a toll on her body as sparring.

“I’m impressed,” Stone said.

Without looking his way, she gave him a thumbs up. She wasn’t sure what impressed him, but all she really wanted was a bed.

The sun sank along the horizon and burned the sky beyond the village’s mountain range. A crescent moon peeked through the clouds, as if waiting for the sun to disappear so it could truly shine. Eventually, Stone would have to let her go to sleep.

“I’m afraid I’m out of ideas,” Stone said.

Kara glanced at Stone as he seated himself next to her. He crossed his legs and straightened his back, all without looking her in the eye.

She laughed. “You? Out of ways to torture me? Nonsense.”

“I suppose I do have one more.”

Kara forced herself upright. “Let’s hear it.”

“I am going to insult you, and you cannot say anything. You also won’t be allowed to move or leave.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Stone shrugged. “When your emotions run rampant, you lose control. All of these exercises taught you to control your magic, but they also taught you to temper your frustration. Yet you cannot rely on physical activity to distract you from the root problem—your temper.”

“So you’re going to try to get a rise out of me?”

“Yes. I’m quite good at insults, too.”

“This will be interesting.”

“Are you ready?”

“Guess so.”

He sighed. “What a pathetic answer. Weeks of work, and you can’t even commit to something as basic as the next task. Don’t waste my time.”

Kara bristled. She spent the last month working on his mindless tasks, so of course she could commit to this. A flash of anger shot through her stomach. Tension pulled on her shoulders, but she resisted the impulse to snap at him. This had to be the insult. He’d begun, and according to his rules, she couldn’t respond or debate him.

He scanned her face. “But you are a waste of time, aren’t you? It’s in your blood. It’s who you are. You don’t learn. Look at your past. Your mother died because you couldn’t help her in time. You killed your father with your own stupidity. It’s your fault you’re an orphan.”

Kara stared at the ground. Her temper surged. A burst of electricity raced along her arm—vicious and free. She bit her cheek to keep from saying something she would regret.

This is just a test
, she told herself.

Stone laughed. “Your life is rather pathetic when you think about it. I could make you do anything at any time. I could order you to burn this village to the ground if I wanted, like the way Niccoli commanded your grandfather. You’re a slave, same as him. Did the obvious fact even cross your mind? You were an idiot to trust me back in Scotland. You should have run, but you followed me like a dog. And now I’m your master forever. You even led me back to the famed Vagabond’s village. I have endless souls, here, powerful souls I can steal at the drop of a hat. It’s a buffet. I could even make you join me. Would you like immortality, endless power? It’s what we isen do best. In the long run, what good are your vagabonds to me alive?”

Electricity snaked along Kara’s skin. Sparks popped by her ear. A green glow washed over the ground. She grabbed her knees and tightened her fingers until they bleached from the effort. Her breath all but stopped. Clumps of dirt shook at her feet.

The green glow became a mist. It crackled over her skin like transparent fire, blurring the freckles beneath it.

A jolt of panic broke through her anger. She sucked in a breath. Her heart skipped beats, and her fingers trembled. That same green light preceded every major disaster in Agneon’s life. It even killed his wife. In that glow lived her family’s curse, and if she let it free, it would kill everything nearby.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn’t lose herself to the power. She would never become her grandfather. With a deep breath, she conjured Braeden’s face in her mind. His olive skin and dark eyes snapped into focus. He broke into a smile the moment she visualized him. Her pulse slowed. A wind picked at his hair. His eyes softened. Her panic dissolved, as did the sting of Stone’s insults.