Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series) (7 page)

Her face flushed, and she hoped he couldn’t see it, but his grin told her he had. She wanted him to leave, but it didn’t look like that would happen anytime soon.

Braeden neared Kara’s door. Voices bubbled through the stone. He paused. One voice definitely belonged to Kara, and the other could only be Gavin’s. The thick door muffled their words.

With a quick look down the hall, Braeden confirmed he was alone. He leaned in, managing to make out a phrase here and there, and grew angrier with every word he caught.

Kara resisted the urge to scoot away from Gavin, choosing instead to stare through what bits of the window his body didn’t block.

Gavin smirked. “You’re a puzzle, Kara. Did you know that? I can’t figure you out, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“You’re crazy all right, but I don’t think it’s my fault.”

He laughed. “I won’t lie. Women don’t usually deny me anything. And yet, that’s all you’ve done—tell me no.”

“You don’t really ask. You just demand. It’s annoying.”

“That’s what kings do, Kara. We don’t ask for respect or power—we expect it. Deep down, you crave that.”

“Not everyone wants power.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s what you
need
. The Vagabond’s cause won’t survive this war if you continue what you’re doing. You need my power to show the other Bloods how to unite.”

He stepped forward, but Kara refused to move. She caught his gaze, glaring at him as he came closer. He was probably trying to prove his point by making her inch away from him. Sweat beaded on her palms, but she wouldn’t give him the luxury of knowing that her body tensed more with every step he took.

He didn’t stop until he stood in front of her. He grinned.

“I’m impressed,” he finally said.

“Get to the point, Gavin.”

His expression softened, and he took a step back. “I find you mesmerizing. You’re stubborn, proud, confusing, beautiful…and you don’t want me. That, I do not understand.”

“Good lord, you’re arrogant.”

He shrugged. “Enlighten me, then. Is there someone else?”

Kara bit the inside of her cheek. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else. If there was, they would become leverage, just like the Vagabond told her back in the village. But there
was
someone else.

“Braeden?” Gavin asked.

“Just stop it. You’re about to sign a peace treaty, for heaven’s sake. You need to focus on what’s important!”

“I am,” he said. His eyes never left hers.

Kara groaned. She looked around the room for inspiration, and her eyes settled on the familiar black box now sitting on her bed. That must have been what Gavin had behind his back when he came into the room.

“Is that—?”

“Before you get upset, hear me out,” Gavin interrupted.

“That’s the tiara, isn’t it? The one you tricked Twin into giving me?”

“It’s a peace offering. I removed the curse. It’s nothing but a crown any more. It’s a priceless heirloom, and I can’t make myself look at it for what I’ve done, so I want you to have it. Wear it to the Gala as a token of forgiveness.”

“I’m not wearing that tiara!”

Gavin crossed his arms. “This is all a misunderstanding. Please, take it with my apology.”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to wear it?”

“Not stupid. I simply wish to rebuild our trust by proving to you that the curse has been removed.”

Kara sighed. “I don’t want a crown. If you want to prove anything to me, then don’t unite with the other Bloods to get your revenge on Carden. Do this out of a true desire for peace. That’s all I want.”

He leaned in, but glanced to the door and paused. Kara followed his gaze, but the door hadn’t opened or anything. When she looked back to the king, he reached for her hand. She tensed, but he simply bowed and kissed it.

“Enjoy your stay, Vagabond,” he said without looking at her.

He headed out the door without looking back. It shut behind him. For a moment, she heard voices, but they trailed off even as she strained to hear them.

Kara eyed the black box on her bed for a moment before she picked it up. She didn’t open the box—there was no need. She knew what the tiara looked like. But even if she didn’t see the barbs on it any longer, she couldn’t bring herself to trust Gavin.

She opened the drawer in her nightstand and threw the box inside.

Braeden pulled back and darted down the hall as footsteps shuffled for the door. He hid in another doorway as Gavin left the room. Gavin’s footsteps stopped as soon as Kara’s door closed.

“Brother, I thought I told you to stay away from the Vagabond,” the king said.

Braeden sighed and slid from the doorframe to face the Blood. “I’m just trying to keep you from making a mistake. What are you trying to do? Seduce her?”

“She’s off limits, brother. Don’t worry yourself with why.”

“That is not your decision to make.”

Gavin sighed. “I’m sorry to do this, Braeden, but I forbid you from spending any more time alone with her. She is poisoning your mind.”

The Blood’s intense glare said more than his words—he was trying to
control
Braeden, to force a mandate. Carden had never been so kind as to verbally warn Braeden when he delivered a direct order, but Gavin’s threat held the same intent.

To disobey the mandate would only hurt Braeden’s cause—either Gavin would think Kara had broken the blood loyalty of the king’s adopted brother, or Gavin would figure out that Braeden wasn’t Hillsidian after all.

“The Queen never forbade me from anything in all the years I lived under her roof,” Braeden said.

“Times are changing. Leave.”

Gavin guarded Kara’s door, motionless. Braeden bowed and walked away, going nowhere as fast as he could. This wasn’t a fight he could win.

He slowed down when he rounded a few corners and Gavin was out of sight. His fingers grazed the wall as he passed. Gavin had given him a direct order. A command. This was yet one more thing to look out for amongst his growing pile of complications.

That Gavin had been kind enough to verbalize the order was a relief, though; Braeden’ hadn’t been so lucky in Losse, when he’d changed into his Lossian form to join Kara in the sunken kingdom. There, Blood Frine had forced him into the throne room to test his loyalty, giving Braeden a silent order he couldn’t have hoped to hear, much less obey. It had proven he didn’t have the Lossian blood loyalty. Luckily, Frine had believed it was because Kara turned Braeden into a vagabond. No one there had ever suspected what Braeden truly was: a Stelian.

But Gavin had spoken the command aloud, which proved Gavin still respected him and had no suspicion that Braeden was anything more than a Hillsidian his parents adopted. That meant there would be no tails or spies watching him, since a direct order was the undeniable end of it.

It would have been, at least, if Braeden was Hillsidian.

He needed a plan. He couldn’t leave Kara to fend for herself, especially not now. His admittedly confusing feelings aside, he needed to help her. She didn’t have anyone else.

There weren’t many options, but he did settle on one: once the Gala ended and everyone went home, Braeden would feign isen hunts. If he said he was trying to find a guild, it would be impossible to prove he hadn’t actually gone. He could use that as cover and keep an eye on Kara from a distance.

In the meantime, Braeden needed to find a place to meet Kara in private. He had to explain everything before it became difficult to find her.

Gavin hadn’t said anything about being around Kara in public—an intentional loophole, no doubt. It would be suspicious, not to mention rude, if the king’s brother suddenly stopped speaking to the Vagabond. The others would notice.

Braeden walked aimlessly, lost in his thoughts, when his fingers brushed something in the wall.

A wooden ladder jutted from the carved mountain hallway, bolted to the wall with rusted screws. As Braeden looked up, he saw a small door in the wall about twenty feet in the air. He began climbing just to have something to do, and when he finally reached the top, he opened the door to see an overgrown garden.

Dusk cast shadows over the terrace as he pulled himself onto the weeds. Several large windows lined the mountain to the left of the overrun space, their light spilling out along the grasses. Braeden looked in. A hundred or more feet below, figures darted through a grand hall where the Gala would probably be held. Tables cluttered the floor, and several yakona from every nation set each table with linens and dishes.

Braeden turned back to the garden and brushed aside some of the lilacs as he sat on a stone flowerbed. The scent stung his nose, but he resisted the impulse to draw his sword. He doubted isen could find their way here—no one could stumble across this corner of Ethos, not with all the guards in the trees.

He ran his hands through the crowded weeds, trying to shrivel them to let the more vivid flowers bloom so that the garden would look presentable. He laughed—he’d gone crazy. Here he was, a prince living a lie, gardening to impress a woman. He’d lost his mind.

Instead of giving the flowers more room to bloom, though, the weeds thickened at his touch and the lilacs wilted. He cursed under his breath. Not only was he terrible with animals, but he apparently couldn’t garden to save his life.

Kara would have been able to do it without even trying.

He glanced around, abandoning the flowerbed. Night crept in around him. A wall protected the garden from the sheer drop beyond, and the moon shone full and low on a purple horizon. The stars glimmered in the blanket of darkness above him, and as he watched, a comet blinked across the sky. The forests swayed in a breeze.

Braeden reached into his pocket and pulled out the talisman. He turned the Stelian coat of arms over and over in his hands, examining every detail. Adele had nearly punched him when he told her he still had it. She’d even made him dig it up. She wanted to see him destroy it, but he never got the chance. Not long after he’d dug it up, Adele’s amulet told her Kara was in danger.

In training, Braeden had thought of Kara more than he cared to admit. At first, the anger of what he was had been enough to make him stand after taking a hit from Adele. When the anger faded, he relied on the hope that he could somehow overcome his blood loyalty to Carden without the help of the Grimoire. When that hope faded, he’d had nothing but memories.

He focused first on memories of his mother, hoping the anger would reignite at seeing the pain Carden caused her. That didn’t last long. No memory did—until he recalled his hands around Kara’s neck and how the life in her eyes had flickered as she gasped his name.

The rage smoldered in his chest again, but he quelled it.

The memory had given him enough fire to continue. Carden had controlled him, forced him to nearly kill Kara, and his guilt at obeying his father never faded, even when everything else had. He built upon the anger with more memories. At first, he had focused on how clear Kara’s gray eyes were. How her hair always turned a little red in the sun. How, when she laughed, her face lit up and glowed with the sound.

She was the only person who knew what he was and didn’t care.

He stood. The garden would work as a meeting spot. He stuck his head through the door that led to the ladder, glancing around to make sure no one walked along the corridor below. After a few silent minutes of listening for footsteps that never came, Braeden climbed down and shut the door on his way.