Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga (20 page)

The first Vagabond joined in. “Remy has a point. The more you turn, the less control you have over who knows you exist. Anyone you turn should be chosen with utmost care. Not everyone is fit to be a vagabond. The public cannot know your names.”

Kara set her elbows on the table. “So it’s decided. I’ll go to Ayavel and make it clear the vagabonds are not to be trifled with. I’ll let them know there are more of us, but not how many. Richard and Twin will continue turning vagabonds while the rest re-assimilate. But that doesn’t solve our real problem—making the Bloods listen. Even if they do respect me enough to let me help them end Carden, what happens after? The war will continue. They’ll fight each other. We need a way to keep them from killing each other when they run out of common enemies to hate.”

“Well put,” the first Vagabond said.

“We could make them sign a treaty,” one of the Lossians suggested.

Richard shook his head. “Treaties are easy to break. There’s no one to enforce it but us, and we would run the risk of becoming yet another common enemy.”

Rieve shrugged. “What if we asked them to open their kingdoms to the public? You know, stop hiding the entrances with lichgates and hidden locks?”

Twin nodded. “That would make everyone equally vulnerable. In a way, it would level the playing field.”

Kara grinned. Excitement tickled her fingertips. “And on top of that, we could lock up their Sartori blades.”

Everyone turned and stared at her.

She pressed her point. “Think about it. The Sartori blades are the only weapons that can kill a Blood. Because of the poison embedded in the sword itself, even a Blood can die from just a scratch. The only antidote must be made from the sword itself, even though I don’t know quite how that works. They’re the ultimate Blood-killing weapon. And if all of the Bloods put their Sartoris away in a vault—a vault none of them controlled—that would be a powerful sign of goodwill. That, coupled with opening their borders, would effectively make everyone equal. It would force a certain level of trust.”

Richard laughed. “It’s insane enough to work.”

“Could we do it?” Demnug asked.

Kara shook her head and smiled, still pleased with the idea. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Where would the vault be?” Remy asked.

Stone grinned. “I believe I can be of use.”

Kara nodded. “Any ideas?”

“A few. I would need to do some research, but you can leave this to me.”

Garrett grimaced. Kara cleared her throat to remind him to play nice, but the muse grumbled under his breath.

Remy knocked once on the table. “We should leave soon.”

“Agreed,” Demnug said.

Kara leaned back. “Let’s have one final dinner together. Tonight. That way, I can explain to everyone what’s going to happen. Besides, it’ll be fun. We won’t get much more of that.”

“Richard and I can organize it,” Twin said.

Richard caught Kara’s eye and frowned. “Are you ready for what you have to do?”

Kara nodded. “More than ever.”

The final dinner sped by too quickly for Kara to fully appreciate it. She spent so long in her training that she never had the chance to truly appreciate her vagabonds. She couldn’t even catch all their names before the night ended, but she would never forget those final moments in the village.

She danced with nearly everyone, which left her feet sore and often riddled with bruises thanks to the less skilled dancers. She laughed and joked with anyone who would tell her a story, and she shared a few of her own. Flick blipped into view every now and again, always darting off toward the next bit of bread or fruit anyone would share with him.

Fires blazed in the village center well into the early morning. At one point, Kara stared into the flames and lost herself to thought. She brainstormed about what kind of an entrance would make the Bloods fear her, and the glimmer of an idea began to reveal itself in the back of her mind. It involved fire—a lot of it. And it might not work. But as she began to doubt herself and scratch the idea, someone pulled her up to dance.

A little after two in the morning, Kara slipped into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. She lay there with a smile on her face, all the while trying not to look at the open traveling sack by her dresser or think about what she should pack before she left.

Crack!

A furry tail brushed her ear, and an even furrier face nuzzled her cheek.

“Hey, Flick,” she said.

She sat up and rubbed his head. He purred and leaned into her hand. With a yawn, he trotted to his pillow and curled up in a ball.

Someone knocked softly. She glanced up and waved her hand to open the door. It creaked open at her command, gentle as could be, and her smile widened. She could finally control her magic.

Twin leaned against the door frame and grinned, one hand holding her elbow. “It seems like we don’t get to spend time together anymore.”

Kara shrugged. “Silly things, wars. They take up so much time.”

Twin laughed. “This will all be over soon.”

“Hopefully.”

“So have you thought about how you’re going to make a powerful first impression on the Bloods?”

“A little.”

“And?”

“It involves a lot of fire.”

The Hillsidian smiled. “Wish I could see it. When do you leave?”

“At sunrise. I won’t get much sleep, but I enjoyed myself. This was worth it.”

“Are you excited to see Braeden?”

Kara grinned and closed her eyes. “You have no idea.”

Twin laughed and sat next to her. She didn’t respond, so Kara peeked at her friend. Twin stared at the ceiling, her smile slowly fading. Kara nudged the girl’s side, but Twin grimaced.

“What’s the matter?” Kara asked.

Twin stretched out on the bed. “I’m scared, Kara. For me. For you. For all of us. The world doesn’t want us to exist because we broke the rules. We’re free, and I think most yakona hate us out of jealousy. Everyone will fight us tooth and nail because we’re different. I’m just...scared.”

Kara nodded. “Me, too.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Twin. I just try not to show it. I don’t feel like I can be honest about that with most people. It’s like you said all those months ago—people expect the Vagabond to be a hero. I have to act like one.”

“You are a hero.”

Kara smiled and nudged her friend. “Thanks, girl.”

They lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Kara closed her eyes and listened to the house. It creaked and whispered nonsense as a gust tore by outside. This was home. Ourea was home. And as tired as she was of fighting, she would kill to protect that.

CHAPTER TWELVE

REUNION

About two hours after sunrise, Braeden slipped out of his office and shut the door without a sound. The empty hallway stretched out to his left and right. He scratched the stubble growing along his chin, still blinking himself awake. He needed to shave, but he didn’t have time.

He’d decided. He would pack what little he owned and leave for Kara’s village. His stolen copy of
Conversations with a Drenowith
filled out his pocket, ready to be thrown in a bag. He had enough of the Bloods. He needed their armies to kill his father, but a break from their pettiness would do him well. He could recharge, and perhaps it wouldn’t destroy Kara’s focus to have him there after all. He would have to restrain himself from stealing her away from her training, but he could manage if she was nearby.

As long as he didn’t encounter anyone along the way to his room, he should be able to get out of Ayavel without anyone noticing his absence until it was too late. He might encounter a road block on his way through the main lichgate, but he hadn’t found another way to leave Ayavel. He could always lie and say he was going on another mission to the Stele. After all, he wasn’t done scouting. No one had to know he was taking an extended detour. It might not be the most responsible choice to make, but even Braeden had limits to what he could endure.

He raced down the hallway and turned into another, his boots barely tapping on the stones as he hurried. He kept to the lesser-used halls, the ones he usually took to avoid maids and guards when he traveled from his room to his office and back.

He turned a corner. Evelyn stormed up the hallway, her gown billowing around her like a cloud. Braeden stopped in his tracks and cursed under his breath. Her eyebrows furrowed when they made eye contact.

“You idiot Heir,” she spat.

He forced a laugh. “Now that isn’t nice.”

“Nice? I should burn you alive for what you did. You are the reason Blood Ithone abandoned us! We just lost the support of an entire race because of you!”

“Aurora deserved to learn to protect herself.”

“That’s not your call anymore than it’s mine. It’s her father’s decision, and you undermined a Blood. A Blood, Braeden! You’re just an Heir, and you made him look like a fool by defying not only a direct order but a cultural law. What did you think would happen?”

“Not this,” Braeden admitted.

Evelyn grimaced. “If you can’t foresee something like this, why should I trust you to lead the remaining armies into war? You’re clearly incapable.”

“And I suppose you would do a better job? You know the Stele that well?”

Evelyn tensed. Her lips parted for a second, though Braeden couldn’t tell if it was shock or disgust. She reacted almost as if he’d backhanded her.

She tugged on the bodice of her gown and patted down a few stray strands of her hair. “I don’t have to take such an attitude from you.”

“I suppose not, yet here you are.”

“I can’t even look at you. I’ll deal with you at the next council meeting. We meet in an hour.”

“So good of you to invite me.”

She sneered and brushed past him, her shoulder missing his arm by an inch. Deep down, she must have wanted to shove him like the child she was. He was amazed she hadn’t.

Braeden slipped his hands in his pockets and sulked down the hallway toward his room. He wouldn’t be able to leave now, at least not unnoticed. The guards likely knew about the meeting before he did, just in case he tried to run. He had two choices: endure hours of royal bickering or fight his way out of the golden city. With the number of troops remaining in Ayavel, the latter would only land him in the dungeon again. Gavin would probably enjoy it.

With a groan, Braeden stopped at the door to his room. He leaned his forehead against the wood, wanting to leave but forced to stay. He might as well go practice a few new techniques in the meantime. He would be alone—no one wanted to spar with the city’s only Stelian—but at least he could practice a bit and let off some steam.

He turned to leave, but the grate of wood on a hardwood floor stopped him in his tracks. A muffled curse followed from behind his door.

Someone was in his room.

He threw the door open and conjured a gray flame in his palm. He eyed the shadows, tensed for an attack. Only spies would break into his bedroom, and who knew what they wanted. Forget sparring—he could go for some torture. Maybe this would give him a bit more leverage on whichever Blood chose to spy on him.

A blond woman stood at the window, one hand on each of the reams of fabric serving as curtains. She pulled them open. Light poured in, blinding him. He blinked to clear his vision. The musk of lilacs and bark wafted past his nose. His stomach clenched in reflex at the familiar scent of an isen.

“Who—?” he asked.

“You know who it is. I’m not that stealthy,” Kara said.

His eyes adjusted. Kara stood by the window, a smile lighting up her beautiful face. A few strands of golden hair fell into her eyes. Her skin was a shade or two darker than he remembered and covered in even more freckles, likely from outdoor training.

Braeden slammed the door behind him and crossed the floor in a few steps. He pulled her into his arms. She laughed and hugged him. He pressed his lips against hers and pushed her into the wall, not caring about welcomes or formalities. Gratitude flooded his gut. He sighed with relief and kissed her again.

She chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I missed you, too, Braeden.”