Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga (27 page)

She reached into the bag and pulled out the silver box Aurora gave her at the Gala. Inside, still on the black silk pillow, was the golden necklace that matched one Aurora had worn that night. A corner of a note stuck out from underneath the pillow, but Kara didn’t need to reread it.

Back at the gala when she first opened the box, Kara hated to think she now owned something that would tie her to Kirelm—a nation she believed undermined everything she was trying to do. She was wrong. Too late, Kara realized what the necklace really was—a way for Aurora to share her kingdom’s culture. Even the note was just a request for her to respect their differences.

Kara had never given Aurora that respect before. She always thought the Kirelm treatment of women to be wrong. Perhaps that was why she’d never received any respect from Ithone or his people. She couldn’t force that; she had to earn it.

She unclasped the necklace, but a muscled hand reached for it. Braeden knelt beside her, one hand open and waiting for the necklace. He didn’t say anything—just waited.

She obliged. The chain shifted on her palm and fell into his. He reached around her—so close she could smell him—and clasped the chain around her neck.

“Come back to me,” he said softly.

She smiled. “Likewise.”

Someone knocked on the door. A folded note slid underneath and settled on the floor, sealed shut with wax.

Braeden picked it up and broke the seal. He scanned it and frowned.

“Looks like you’ve been summoned to Kirelm,” he said.

Kara just nodded. Time to go.

She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder. Flick yawned and stretched from his place on a pillow on the nightstand. His tail swished, brushing the wall as he blinked himself awake. Kara reached for him from across the room. He chirped. With a loud
crack
, he disappeared and reappeared on her shoulder. She scratched his tiny head.

“Are you going to meet with the Bloods before you leave?” Braeden asked.

“No. They’ll just slow me down. I don’t need their approval to do something I already promised to do. Will you let them know I left?”

“Yes.”

He watched something out the window, but Kara figured he was trying to restrain himself. She didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t want her to go, either.

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his chest. Flick followed suit, nuzzling Braeden’s neck and chirping. Braeden hugged her back.

“Three days. No more,” he said.

“Three days,” she promised.

“Be safe.”

“You, too.”

He stepped back and smiled. This was it. If Kara waited any longer, she just wouldn’t go.

She forced a smile and rubbed Flick’s head again, her thoughts focused on the main lichgate that led out to an underwater temple. She could leave through the kingdom’s primary lichgate since her dramatic entrance yesterday gave away the fact her pet could teleport. Might as well use it to travel faster. Since Flick couldn’t teleport through lichgates, she would have to walk out of the golden temple on her own—but once out, she would simply teleport to the Rose Cliffs. The Bloods kept a close watch on their kingdoms’ borders. Even if someone from Kirelm wasn’t waiting for her there, they would know she was waiting for them.

With another loud crack, Flick whisked her away. The room disappeared. Braeden disappeared. And even though she knew she would see him in just three days, it broke her heart to leave him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

OLD FOES

Barely ten minutes after Kara left him, Braeden slammed his office door and leaned against his desk. His hands curled into fists. Curse words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could register them.

He let her go. He let her travel to Kirelm, and she might not return. He let her go without asking her to be his forever. If something happened to him, she would never know how much his life changed since she found him. And if something happened to her, he would raid Kirelm himself. He wouldn’t stop until every building burned to its foundation. He wouldn’t stop until Ithone was dead and Kara was safely in his arms.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to relax. He couldn’t think like that.

With a groan, he walked around the table and sank into his chair. His latest Stelian map covered the desk, rips along the edges from all the times he’d picked at the corners as he sketched. Four new guard towers littered the forests to the north and east, their ink still wet. He’d only just discovered them on his last scouting mission. They couldn’t be more than a week old.

Each time Braeden visited the Stele through his secret lichgate, he inched closer to the castle. He had thus far avoided civilians and soldiers alike, keeping as he did to the shadows and forest. Iyra took them through the woods like a ghost, and he could observe in passing. He still hadn’t gotten close enough to see Carden’s office balcony, nor did he want to. He could sense his father’s presence the closer he came to the castle. He didn’t want his father to find him out in the same way.

The study door opened. Braeden’s head shot up as Gavin walked into the office.

Braeden rolled his eyes. “Do come in.”

“You are too kind.”

“What do you want, Gavin?”

“Use my title. It’s Blood Gavin.”

Braeden grimaced. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you. Get out.”

“Not until I get answers. You’ve been holed up in here for a month, feeding us tidbits of a plan while we sit idle. I’m beginning to think you’re stalling.”

“Think what you like—doesn’t make it true.”

Gavin sighed and sat in a chair by the bookshelves. “That’s not how politics work, Braeden. Perception is more powerful than the truth. You never did understand that.”

“I understand it well enough. I simply don’t tolerate such thinking.”

“The Bloods are losing what little faith they had in you.” Gavin set his fingertips together and rested his pointer fingers on his forehead.

“And you’re doing what exactly? Giving me a fair warning?”

“I’m reserving judgment until I hear your plan or lack thereof.”

“How wise of you.”

“Tell me what my patience bought, Braeden.”

“My title is Heir Braeden or, if you prefer the more formal option, Heir Drakonin.”

Gavin scoffed. “Touché.”

Braeden leaned back in his chair. “I’ve reported on every scouting trip I took, and I should think that’s enough to earn your patience while I wrap up my assessment of the Stele’s weaknesses. I’ve outlined my plan, discussed the strengths of each army with you to better—”

“But you haven’t shown us a real plan,” Gavin snapped.

Braeden frowned. “It’s not so easy. Carden adds new guard towers every day, which suggests he’s shifting his defensive strategy on a regular basis. His builders are working overtime. Judging from the speed with which the walls and defenses expand, I’d say they don’t sleep or break for food. Troop movements don’t seem to have a pattern between one visit and the next. If this were easy, we’d have taken the city by now. But it’s not. It’s near impossible to take this fight to his door in the first place, even without all of these confusing changes. We can’t afford a single mistake. I have to know what I’m doing will work before I lead multiple armies to my father’s front door.”

“Then bring us in on the planning. We need to brainstorm together if this is so hard for you.”

Braeden cursed. “You know full well what I meant. This is easiest for me because I know the kingdom better than any of you. If we all collaborate on the attack strategy from the beginning, we’ll never get anywhere. Nothing will ever be decided. You all can’t even agree on who is in this alliance anymore.”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

“Don’t try to derail me. I have a valid point. Do you really think the four of us can collaborate on attack strategy? Everyone will try to outdo each other in what their armies can handle and who will get the most glory. They won’t focus on their actual strengths or weaknesses.”

“So you don’t trust us to do what’s best to win the Stele.”

“Of course not. I don’t like the fact I need you all to win this. If I could do it without you, I would.”

Gavin’s jaw tensed. He focused on something through the window, eyes clear but averted. Neither of them spoke. Braeden scanned the map on his desk, wondering what new Stelian landmark would crop up overnight the next time he visited. He wished he could decipher what Carden was trying to do. He more so wished Gavin would get up and leave.

“When are you scouting next?” Gavin asked.

“Tonight.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Braeden laughed. “Cute. Have you missed spending time with me?”

“It seems like another perspective would help you. I don’t see how it would hurt.”

“You’re the only Hillsidian royal. If you die, your people die. Why would you risk yourself to babysit me?”

Gavin rubbed his face. “You’re just being stubborn at this point. I’m offering to help because this shouldn’t be a one-man task. I guessed you would be more pleasant and open-minded, considering that Kara’s back.”

Braeden crossed his arms and turned to look out the window.

“Wait, has she already left?”Gavin asked.

“I figured Evelyn already knew and would tell you first, of all people.”

“I miss the days when she did, but we don’t speak much anymore outside of council meetings. She won’t know I’m going with you on this scouting trip. I will tell only my generals.”

“I never said you were going. What’s this volunteering of yours really about, Gavin? There’s no reason for you to come except to get in my way. Iyra’s fast. You won’t keep up.”

“I have Mother’s wolf Mastif with me. We’ll likely outrun you.”

Braeden smirked and sat back. “Do I hear a challenge?”

“Perhaps.” A grin twitched at the corner of Gavin’s mouth.

Braeden laughed, and the Hillsidian Blood followed suit. Where had this come from? They hadn’t reverted to the brothers they used to be, but it was the second time Gavin had shown him a sign their old friendship could revive itself. Gavin once admitted he still loved Evelyn but couldn’t act on it, and Braeden hadn’t known what to say. The moment sped by, blipping in and out of existence before he could act on it. But now, he had a chance. A choice. This was Gavin’s version of a truce—or, at least, the beginnings of one.

It would help to have an extra pair of eyes to dissect the never-ending changes within the Stele. Though Braeden didn’t enjoy the idea of showing Gavin his future kingdom, they wouldn’t see enough on this trip to give the Hillsidian Blood an incredible advantage. When the Stele belonged to Braeden, he would lock the forgotten lichgate as a precaution against unwanted visits from Hillside.

Braeden leaned forward and made eye contact. “If I let you come, know I’m willingly showing you my future home. I’ll rule there soon, same as you rule Hillside. I’ve seen your kingdom. You’ll see mine. I’m offering this to you, and you’re not tricking me into giving this information away. Do you understand?”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “You lived in Hillside for twelve years. A few days in the Stele isn’t an even playing field.”

Braeden laughed. “I wasn’t offering one.”

“So far, I don’t hear a cost. You show me the Stele while I follow you around.”

“The cost is you finally act like the Blood you are, not the Heir you were. You’ve experienced more pain and loss than a man should, but you’ve wallowed in it. It stops now. No more manipulating Kara. No more fighting me. You and I have a mutual enemy—my father. We kill him. We make peace. We move on with our lives.”

Braeden held his breath. This could be a wild success or a dismal failure. They hadn’t even left yet, and he’d already pushed the boundaries of this unspoken truce. But he had to. No use exposing the Stele to a potential enemy if he didn’t have to.

To his credit, Gavin laughed. “Let’s see how good those secrets are first.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SECOND CHANCES

Thanks to Flick’s teleporting ability, it took less than an hour for Kara to reach the Rose Cliffs. She stood on the edge, eyeing the mile-or-more drop to the valley below. The sky tumbled above a beige mountain range on the horizon, darkening with a storm. A hint of lightning flashed in the distance. Behind her, a tangled forest hovered near the cliff edge, leaving a twenty-foot space between its roots and the drop off. Thorns littered the underbrush except for along a dirt path that curved into the trees.

She hesitated, listening for the crunch of boots along the soil. A bird chirped, and something yelped in the woods. Surprisingly, no one waited for her on the cliff.

Perhaps they didn’t know how quickly she could travel—not everyone knew what Flick could do. She preferred it that way, but she couldn’t waste time pretending she required a mount to get places. With tensions rising between the Bloods and her promise to return to Braeden in three days, she had to make every second count.

She summoned the Grimoire from the stone in her pendant to check for updates from the Kirelm capital. The book solidified and dropped into her hands. The cover popped open. Just as she hoped, its pages opened to another note from Remy, dated for today.