Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga (24 page)

Blood Carden wanted war, and she had already given him his first real taste of it—she’d sent him a map of Kirelm. He would no doubt attack, but Kirelm would survive. When the Bloods caught wind of it, she would plant the seeds of doubt in her fellow royals. She could argue the drenowith had joined Blood Carden once again—as they had when they led her aunt to the Stele’s door—to attack the isolated kingdom after Kara filled the Bloods’ heads with lies about the drenowith’s devotion to peace.

Kara likely wouldn’t survive the attack on Kirelm, so the assault would finally rid Evelyn of the human-raised nuisance. She could easily write the girl’s death off as the drenowith tying up loose ends.

If the Bloods didn’t vote to bar the drenowith from the council after the bloodshed, the fear for their kingdoms would be enough to make each of the Bloods return home. Once the Bloods were finally gone from Ayavel, Evelyn would cut off ties with Blood Carden and refuse to open the lichgates into her kingdom for anyone, thereby retreating from the war and from any chance of retribution from Carden. Ourea would start over in its quest for peace, but it was better than rebuilding from the charred rubble the drenowith would leave behind.

But if this failed—if the Bloods still listened to the drenowith and refused to leave after the attack on Kirelm—she would admit defeat and let Carden end them. If the rulers of nations willingly obeyed creatures as selfish and destructive as the muses, there was no hope for them. Of all the Bloods, Gavin should have seen reason. She wanted to save him, but he just wouldn’t listen. Perhaps if she was careful, she could save him from himself before it was too late.

Evelyn would either free the council of their faith in the drenowith, or she would let Carden destroy them. When the flames dissolved and the world was once more quiet, she would rebuild from whatever was left.

She blinked, her eyes refocusing on the parchment before her. Neat lines of text filled most of the page. A steady pool of ink collected underneath her dripping quill, which hovered near the bottom. She must have lost herself to her thoughts.

The quill clinked against the inkwell as she set the pen aside to read over her letter.

C—

I’ve been watching Braeden’s movements, and he is preparing to take another three-day solo expedition to the Stele tomorrow. Employ the usual decoys for the duration of his stay.

On an annoying note, the Vagabond has returned and is apparently an isen. She will be visiting Kirelm tomorrow to encourage Blood Ithone to rejoin the council. I believe it is in our mutual best interest if she does not survive her trip.

—E

Evelyn rubbed her face and hesitated, her eyes focused on the blot of ink at the bottom, near her signature. After a few seconds of silence, she folded the letter into a neat square.

To her left, at the far corner of her writing desk, lay an Ayavelian heirloom: a small black chest resting on silver claws. The box had existed for as long as the kingdom of Ayavel. She opened its lid to reveal its dark red silk lining and slipped the note inside.

If she closed the top, the note would travel to its brother box—which Carden now possessed. Someday, Evelyn would have to figure out a way to get it back from him. For now, the man she hated but needed nonetheless would use the precious heirloom to kill his son, assassinate the Vagabond, and disband the very council her aunt had created.

Evelyn sighed and reached for the lid. It snapped shut with a
click
.

Carden stared into the fire roaring in his study’s hearth, its red flames casting shadows on his charcoal gray skin. He filled the chair, all muscle. His right hand itched, but he didn’t indulge the sensation. He didn’t want to look at the aftermath of his battle with the long-gone Queen of Hillside, but that wouldn’t make the scars disappear. Boils and blisters littered the withered stump of his left hand, and the longest scar ran from his thumb to the crease in his elbow. White bone peered through a tear in the skin on his knuckles.

Disgusted, he leaned back in his chair.

The little black chest on his desk creaked open of its own accord. He glanced at it and hesitated. Evelyn wasn’t due to send him any news until after his battle with Kirelm.

He stood and crossed the room in a few strides. A piece of parchment, folded into the familiar perfect square, lay on the box’s dark red lining. He snatched the paper with his good hand and ripped it open. It took all of a few seconds to read through her letter, and he couldn’t help the sneer that crept across his face afterward.

It seemed as though the young queen’s hatred for drenowith surpassed even her aunt’s. Carden chuckled and sat in his desk chair. He eyed the lit fireplace, eyes slipping out of focus as he debated how her latest news could benefit him.

The door inched open. A perfume of lilac and pine wafted toward him, the familiar scent of his favorite isen.

“You seem chipper,” Deidre said, the door shutting behind her.

The pale brunette sauntered into the room and slid onto a nearby chair, her tight white shirt showing off the curves Carden wished he’d been able to enjoy by now. She tucked her legs to the side like a queen, her red lips twisting into a smile as he examined her. But she teased him—it was her way. He would have her eventually.

“News came from Evelyn,” he said.

Deidre frowned. “Replacing me already?”

He laughed. “Hardly. She has her uses, but not your charm.”

Deidre’s lips twisted into a smirk. “What does the little twit have to say, then?”

“Braeden’s on his way back here. Have the builders made any progress on the fake guard towers to the east?”

“Of course. They’re nearly done. I assume you’ll be shifting troop movements and guard schedules as well.”

“Among other things.”

She smiled and crossed her legs. A surge of desire flickered through Carden’s thighs. He wasn’t sure how long he was willing to wait for her to come around to him before he took matters into his own, deformed hands. She tried his patience, but he recently discovered an outlet for that frustration. He could always toy with her by mentioning her fellow isen. She hated them for whatever reason. It never failed to rile her.

He laughed. “That Kara girl is an isen now. Seems like something you should have known and warned me about.”

Deidre frowned, the grimace digging lines into the corners of her mouth. “She was turned? When?”

Carden leaned back in his chair, his grin spreading. He wasn’t used to knowing things his isen didn’t.

He shrugged and ignored her question. “The girl will be in Kirelm when I visit. I can’t quite decide if I’ll kill her instantly or imprison her long enough to force Braeden to kill her. I prefer the latter, but I can’t risk her escaping.”

Deidre shifted in her seat. “I suppose you’ll have to play it by ear. What do you have in mind for our little Evelyn?”

Carden laughed. The topic change hadn’t even been subtle, but he would play along for now. “Like I said, Evelyn has her uses.”

“She’s already given you Kirelm. What else can she do? She’s an infant compared to the rest of the Bloods.”

“Perhaps, but I want the Bloods at my mercy. That naïve girl is going to help me achieve that.”

Deidre lifted an eyebrow as if to ask,
How?

He grinned, but didn’t indulge the silent question. He owned Evelyn, even if the child didn’t see it, and his revenge on the other kingdoms would be sweet. Carden spent his life subservient to the Bloods who ruled the other kingdoms. His people could never expand—any new cities beyond the reach of the Stele were destroyed by the other kingdoms within months. They could never trade or do more than survive in the icy patch of nothing they inherited from a banished race. They deserved better. He deserved better.

Peace was never an option. He planned to rule them all. And Evelyn would help him do it.

Carden studied Deidre, debating whether or not he could tell her the truth. The success of his plan depended on her, but he wasn’t convinced she knew it yet. The conniving isen would probably milk him for everything he had if she did.

As per an agreement they made long ago, Deidre would soon lead him to the table his ancestor made—the one Aislynn used to give her niece the bloodline. When Carden owned the table, he would drain each Blood and take their power until every yakona alive answered only to him.

Carden would be the first Blood in recorded history to have every bloodline. He would rule Ourea.

Deidre’s lips curved into one of the smiles that unsettled him—her eyes shone as if she knew something he didn’t, and that always frayed his nerves. Those smiles of hers left behind the lingering worry that she was up to something.

No matter—she needed him. That was part of their agreement. Only he could kill her master, and she would give him his ancestral table in return. It was their pact, forged years ago. The moment he killed Niccoli, she would give him the table, now that she finally had its location. But until he fulfilled his end of the bargain, she wouldn’t leave—she wouldn’t risk losing the only man who could kill her master. And thus, she needed him. Carden would keep her dependent upon him as long as he could. She was useful...and he planned on enjoying her fully before he freed her. For that to happen, he needed more time.

Deidre grimaced. “I don’t like it when you’re quiet. It means you’re plotting.”

He grinned. “I suppose you women need your chatter.”

Her beautiful face distorted into a scowl that would have withered lesser men. Carden just laughed.

“I doubt you care about my plotting,” he said.

“Try me.”

“Oh? Have you figured me out already?”

“Perhaps not, but I know that you’ve begun picking off the Bloods one by one on purpose. This little war of yours is all going according to plan, isn’t it? With Blood Lorraine dead, her son Gavin was blinded by a lust for revenge, as you’d hoped. It distracted the boy and made him easy to manipulate even from afar.”

Carden raised his eyebrows, impressed. “And?”

“And I know you weren’t expecting that son of yours to free the Heirs of Losse and Kirelm after the Gala. You wanted them for something, though I’m not yet sure what.”

Her lips twitched. Carden figured that had been a barely-contained lie. She knew damn well what he was doing. His isen was craftier than he imagined, but he didn’t know why she would show her hand like that. Perhaps she had a weakness after all—vanity.

Nonetheless, she was right. Carden gritted his teeth at the thought of his escaped prisoners, but he would pay his idiot son back soon enough.

“Why are you killing Bloods but saving Heirs?” she asked.

He examined her in silence, debating. He could tell her. He still owned her. It wasn’t as though she would ever get in his way. She didn’t care about yakona. Her only desire in life was getting revenge on Niccoli. In that manner—and in only that manner—she was harmless.

So he obliged.

“Young Bloods, when freshly turned, are weaker. Easier to control. Easier to manipulate,” Carden said. He would have an easier time of detaining, draining, and killing them than he would their parents.

“What ultimate fate do you have planned for our sweet, naïve Evelyn?” Deidre asked.

“Why so curious?”

Deidre teased him with a glance through her lashes. “Jealousy.”

Carden grinned. “It should be fairly easy to leverage her hatred for drenowith even after I control Kirelm. When I have all of the Bloods in my prison, I’m going to reveal her betrayal to them just for fun.”

Deidre laughed. “How cruel! I love it.”

But Carden wasn’t done. He wanted to test the waters of Deidre’s supposed jealousy—and that was the only reason he continued. “And once I throw her in a cell, I’ll give her a choice: die the same death of her peers or carry my child.”

Deidre’s smile faded. “What?”

“I still need an heir.”

Braeden would die soon enough, thankfully, and Carden wanted a son with all of the Bloodlines. He needed an Heir to every throne, wrapped into one body. Whether Evelyn gave him her blood or had his Heir, the young queen would serve him well.

Deidre frowned and stood, but Carden was faster. He crossed the floor and pushed her back into her seat before she could even step toward the door.