Illusion: Book Four of the Grimoire Saga (34 page)

Her mouth hung open.

Something hissed, the slow release of air almost a growl in the quiet ballroom. Kara flinched. A dozen feet away, Deidre’s gray Xlijnughl stood on a pile of rubble, ears pinned against its head. It snapped at the air and, with a sharp
crack,
disappeared.

Kara paused, uncertain as to what just happened, until she noticed the body under the stones. Two black boots and a charred hand with broken nails jutted from the debris. She pushed herself to her feet for a better view, only to fall back on her hands. She limped toward the figure, foot gaining strength with each step. No doubt her body healing again, recharging after the sudden release of nearly all her energy.

Details of the body came into view the closer Kara came. A woman. Black hair pooled behind her head. Puddles of crimson liquid—blood. The once-pale skin now sported black char, as if she’d been cooked. Thin trails of smoke curled from singes in her clothes. She stank of a burning forest.

Deidre.

Kara sank onto her heels, hands in her lap. She stared at the fallen isen, barely blinking as she tried to process whatever happened. She raked her memory, searching for an answer. Everything swirled in her mind, fragments of thoughts and emotion until one truth hit her with a painful pang of clarity.

“I did this,” Kara said under her breath.

She’d lost control. Despite her best efforts, she’d succumbed to her power. It had used her, and she was lucky no one—

Braeden.

With a jolt of panic, she spun, eyes wide as she searched for the love of her life. Piles of rubble covered much of the floor, but no other bodies appeared. She pushed herself to her feet and ran for the stairs. She stumbled, one foot catching on the other in her panic. Her face hit the floor. She yelped and stood again, legs strong enough now to hold her.

“Kara?” Braeden asked. His voice carried from the stairwell.

Relief washed through her, so powerful she fell to her knees. Joy consumed her, eating away at her every thought. He was alive. Tears pricked her eyes. She held her head in her hands and smiled.

Too many emotions, Kara. Remain calm,
the first Vagabond said in her mind.

She shook her head, unable to answer just yet.

Each emotion is taking over your body. They’re distracting you. Contain yourself, or you will quickly lose control again. Please.

She sat on her heels and rubbed her temples. She took deep breaths, removing herself from the ballroom. She retreated into her mind.

Peace.

Think of happy things: Braeden and his mischievous grin; Twin, hugging her with the strength of a bear; Flick chirping in her ear.

Calm.

She would master herself.

Focus.

With a shaky breath, she stood. Her feet wobbled once more but held. She took slow steps toward Deidre’s body and knelt. She held her fingers to the woman’s neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

Deidre was dead.

Kara stared at the corpse, waiting for an emotion. She expected relief or perhaps joy. Guilt, even—she had murdered someone yet again, after all. But the same anxious tension that had plagued her the entire day remained. When the world needed her to control herself, she’d let the magic loose and destroyed a chunk of Braeden’s castle.

She bit her lip. While she hadn’t done what she meant to—control herself through the battle and end Deidre with a sword—she’d still killed the vile woman. She’d done exactly what she meant to. It didn’t matter if things didn’t go according to plan. At long last, she had succeeded—and all of Ourea shared the victory along with her.

A wave of exhaustion fell on her like a blanket, suffocating even the anxiety. Her head hung a little lower, heavy. A green glow pulsed underneath her skin, dull but present. None of this seemed real. Part of her hoped she would have seen her father one more time, perhaps right as Deidre died. With the isen dead, her father’s soul was supposedly free—but she didn’t have proof. At least she got to hear his voice one last time. A cricket chirped in the quiet room, its shrill chorus blasting through Kara’s mind. She frowned. Disappointment weighed on her neck. She wanted closure. She wanted forgiveness, but Dad would never be able to give it to her.

Movement vibrated through the air. She could sense Braeden walking closer, taking slow and loud steps toward her, like she was a horse he didn’t want to spook. A pang of annoyance shot through her, but she quelled it. Of course he feared her a little—look at what she’d done. However better off the world was without Deidre, Kara was still a killer. At least this wasn’t like her experience in Kirelm. No innocents had died this time.

He reached for her. Seconds later, warm hands wrapped around her arms. He kissed the back of her head. She sighed with relief. His touch released the tension.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I want to go home.”

“I know, but we’re not done yet.”

She huffed. Right—between releasing the banner over the warring yakona outside and Evelyn’s attack on Hillside, she had more than enough to keep her busy. Her eyes stung. She rubbed them. A wave of exhaustion rolled over her. She longed to find a bed and curl up. To sleep for days. Hide.

Focus, Kara. Don’t let this energy drain you completely.

She nodded and rubbed her temples. The first Vagabond was right. She needed to keep a clear head. More importantly, she had to warn Twin about the upcoming invasion.

“Braeden, let’s stop this war. Take Flick and release the banner while I warn Twin about the Ayavelians.”

He nodded, his stubble rubbing against her scalp, and leaned in. His lips brushed her forehead. She remained still and closed her eyes, savoring the touch. His fingers caressed her cheek, so gentle it calmed her racing heart.

He backed away. Cold seeped into the patches of her skin he’d held seconds before. A
crack
broke through the room. Kara flinched. A flare of green light blossomed from her body, responding to her flare of surprise and lashing out at the sound. Thankfully, Braeden and Flick were long gone.

She took a deep breath. Without her wrist guard, she didn’t know how long she had before she lost control. She set her hands on her hips and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself, but her heart raced on.

Peace. Calm. Focus.

She pulled in another deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort, but panic hummed in her chest. She couldn’t force this calm for much longer.

Chapter 25

Monsters

A loud
crack
echoed in Braeden’s ear. He rubbed his head and glanced around to get his bearings. Flick’s tiny body weighed on his shoulder. The pet purred in his ear.

He stood in the middle of the throne room.
His
throne room.

Evidence of his fight with Deidre covered the marble—fractures splintered across several pillars like spider webs, while patches of the stone floor lay in rubble. The Kirelm vagabond from earlier sat on the stairs by the thrones—Braeden’s thrones—with most of his body draped in the black banner once hung from the wall. Silver lines dipped along the fabric, evidence of the coat of arms sewn into the fabric.

The Kirelm grinned. “Is it over?”

“It’s about to be. Let the others know Kara’s safe,” Braeden said. He lifted the banner and dragged it away from the Kirelm, who stood and brushed off his shirt.

With one hand wrapped around the flag, Braeden imagined his father’s study—his study—and scratched Flick on the head with his free hand. The little creature chirped, and yet another
crack
rang through Braeden’s ears.

The study appeared before him, ransacked as well from Deidre’s torture. Puddles of red blood covered the rug by the fireplace. Braeden frowned, his jaw tensing as he imagined the horrible things Deidre must have done to the woman he loved.

He shook his head. The isen was dead, and Kara was safe. For now.

Fabric dragging behind him, he ran to the balcony. It caught on a chair by the fireplace, but he yanked it free. The seat shifted along the floor, wooden feet groaning in protest.

The night sky filled with fireballs, their yellow tails staining the sky as they plummeted. Below, the war raged on. Men shouted, their war cries like a constant stream of thunder. Fires consumed whole rows of buildings and patches of the outer wall, illuminating the Stele in all directions.

Braeden heaved the banner over the side of the balcony, both hands still grabbing onto the fabric as he let the wind spread it out into the air. The fabric tugged at his grip.

He let it go.

The banner fluttered over the war below, rippling in the cold night.

Braeden closed his eyes, focused on his final task in this battle. He mimicked what he’d learned on his way to the throne room and reached out to the Stelians below with his mind.

Stop fighting.

His heart skipped a beat in panic. If the alliance didn’t see his flag, they may continue the attack on his people. He added a second command.

Say, “I have been ordered to stop fighting. This war is over.”

He leaned on the railing, heart in his chest as he held his breath, waiting for the swords to fall. The battle cries died. A lingering scream filled the air, but soon it faded away. Braeden’s jaw tensed. His grip on the railing tightened.

A murmur rumbled through the crowd below, growing until it reached a crescendo. The men cheered. Swords glinted in the firelight, likely reflecting the light up to him as the soldiers below lifted their swords in victory.

He sighed and backed away from the railing.

One battle over. One left to finish.

Kara knelt on the floor beneath a window and summoned her grimoire. She wanted space between her and Deidre’s corpse, but she also needed light, however scarce it was in the ballroom. Blue dust sprang to life from her pendant, illuminating the outline of a book. The tome solidified, dropping into her palms with a familiar weight. Her own green light replaced the fading blue shimmer. She opened the front cover, prepared to grab her quill and write, but the pages flew open to a passage written in Rieve’s handwriting. Lines crossed each other, the smeared ink evidence of a hasty entry. A second note covered the page below it, this one in Twin’s hand.

Kara read through the entries, another drop of dread pooling in her stomach with each word. Her eyes widened.

Rieve. Evelyn. Zimmermann. Twin. Hillside.

A crack echoed through the room, signaling Braeden’s return, but Kara didn’t react. She didn’t even flinch. She couldn’t move.

“Is something wrong?” Braeden asked.

Kara swallowed hard. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. Anger swelled in her. Her skin glowed, casting a green hue on the stone floor.

Be calm
, the first Vagabond said in her ear.

She murdered my people!

Peace,
he continued.

I’ll kill her!

Focus!
he shouted in her mind.

She clenched her hands into fists and took a shaky breath.

Calm. Peace. Focus.

“Kara?” Braeden asked.

“Stelians are already attacking Hillside,” she said through her teeth.

She looked up to see his face harden into a frown.

“Then we’re out of time,” he said.

“Could they have possibly heard your order just now to stop?” she asked.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Mandates are weaker the farther away you get from your Blood.”

She scribbled a short note that help was coming, almost certain Twin wouldn’t see it. She paused, eyeing her words, and added a warning about Evelyn—if any vagabonds chose to open their grimoires, they could alert everyone nearby to hurry to the throne room to quickly regroup as planned. If not, she would have to wait for them and assemble them herself.

“I added a note about what’s going on. Hopefully, the Bloods see it,” she said.

“We can’t wait around much longer to find out.”

Braeden handed her the wrist guard. She examined it for the first time since Deidre burned it. Some of the spikes had melted away, while others looked like the tips had been snapped off. She wondered if some of the metal was still in her arm.