Treason: Book Two of the Grimoire Saga (a Young Adult Fantasy series) (37 page)

“Where are we?”

“In the deepest part of your mind, where Carden can never find you. It’s the goodness you’ve developed despite everything, the kindness and love you’re capable of even though you were born to kill. Hide here with me, and he’ll never find us.”

Braeden pulled her closer. The relief grew stronger.

“I won’t let you go, Braeden. You’re safe here.”

This wasn’t real. He knew that much. This was a safeguard. He had retreated, unable to stomach the pain or the fear anymore. But he wanted to believe in it anyway, this alternate world where Kara would always be with him, because it was all he had left to hold on to.

“When this is over, let’s run away. Let’s escape,” he said.

She laughed. The sound rang in the void. “Where to?”

“Someplace far away from everything. I don’t know. Russia? Australia? Europe?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe.”

“Okay, Europe it is,” he said.

“Where in Europe?”

“Scotland? I love Scotland. It’s full of tiny villages where everyone knows everyone else, and we can just hide from the rest of the world. There’s this one town called Dailly—I found it on an isen hunt years back. It’s beautiful.”

“Then we’ll go to Dailly,” she said with a laugh.

The flash of white faded away, and Kara’s face disappeared along with it. She faded into nothing, reaching for him as she disappeared.

“What the—? Kara!” he called.

“Come back!” she said.

Braeden snapped his eyes open. Darkness filled the torture chamber, and the only light came from the silver moon barely visible through the windows on the far wall. The mirrors tempted him to examine his wounds, but Braeden didn’t want to know how much worse it had gotten.

Pain broke along the side of his body, but he didn’t stay long enough to find out what it was. He closed his eyes and slipped back into his mind, hunting for the flash of white that meant safety.

“That was close,” Kara said in his ear.

He opened his eyes. The white void returned. His head lay in Kara’s lap, and she smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Don’t let me leave again,” he said.

She shushed him and ran her fingers along his face. The touch sent shivers of joy up his spine. He could barely move, but he would allow himself to enjoy her touch. In a world full of pain, it was a blessing to have her.

“You can’t stay long,” she said.

“Why not?”

“You’re almost awake again.” She laid a protective arm across his chest.

“I don’t ever want to wake up. I don’t want to go back.”

“If you don’t, the real me will die. She needs you, Braeden. I’m just your imagination.”

“But Carden—”

“All tyrants eventually fail,” she interrupted.

“Not if I’m his slave. It would be impossible to fight him.”

She grinned. “Sometimes, ‘impossible’ just means you have to try harder.”

Her words rang a distant bell. They were familiar, but he couldn’t remember why.

“Bye, Braeden. Stay good.”

“I don’t want—”

He coughed and sputtered. The white void faded away. He opened his eyes once more to sunlight streaming through the windows. He avoided looking in the mirror.

All he had was the lingering thought that Carden had dismissed the slivers. They were gone.

“Say it again,” a dark voice commanded in his ear.

Braeden looked up to see Carden. He had choice words for his father, but he could only remember wanting to tell Kara not to let him leave.

Instead, his mouth spoke for him.

“I was supposed to lure you into an ambush in Lutirena Gorge with the false story that Blood Gavin is camping with a small army and can be easily taken. The Bloods will be waiting there with their armies. They’ll kill you. I believe they will also try to kill me, but I was prepared for that so long as I killed you first.”

Braeden tensed. He had just revealed everything, and in an emotionless monotone. His mind and body had acted as separate entities.

Carden grinned. “Good boy. That is a clever trick on their part. I guess we’ll just have to bring a bigger army.”

Braeden wanted to scream at him, to curse and yell and fight, but his body wouldn’t allow it.

Carden cracked his neck. “In the meantime, you and I can actually begin now that you’re finally cooperating.”

The Blood’s hands began to heat up once more, until they steamed like molten rock. Braeden pressed his head back into the table and closed his eyes. This wouldn’t end well, but at least he could retreat into his mind. As long as he had Kara, he might still come out of this with his free thought intact.

Kara awoke with a throbbing headache. Bile stung the back of her throat. Her tongue ached and stuck to the roof of her mouth. All she wanted was water. How long had she been out?

A convoluted mess of memories spun through her head. Aislynn had chained her. Adele had been captured. There was screaming—Adele’s screaming. The sound rang again in Kara’s head, deafening and painful. But Garrett had come—and in his glare, blamed Kara for everything.

He could have saved Kara, too, but he left her shackled on the floor.

Something bumped against her foot. She opened her eyes—they hadn’t been opened before? The world blurred by, like she was moving. Her mind raced.

What was I thinking about?

Two guards dragged her through a stone hallway. The heavy shackles no longer hung around her wrists, but the spikes’ poison still racked her body. Scars from the spikes dotted her skin. Her veins tightened with each movement.

A flickering, lucid thought revolved around how she wouldn’t be able to think straight until the poison worked its way out of her system. Magic, at this point, would be too much to manage.

A swish of fabric caught Kara’s attention. A tall Ayavelian woman walked just ahead. Her arched back came to a regal head adorned with a thin tiara.

Evelyn.

“How—” Kara meant to ask how long she’d been unconscious, or ask for the date, but her voice came out as barely more than a whisper. She wanted to vomit, but knew she would be too weak to even manage that.

How pathetic.

“Stop,” Evelyn said to the guards.

They obeyed. Kara hung between them, unable to stand. Evelyn spread her thin fingers toward Kara, and the Grimoire pendant unclasped itself from around her neck as if on command. It floated into the princess’s pocket.

“Hey—” was all Kara could muster.

“You have been unconscious for three days. You had an allergic reaction to the cuffs’ poison.”

Evelyn’s eye twitched. Kara squinted. Had the princess just lied? Three days didn’t just disappear like that, allergic reaction or no.

Evelyn cleared her throat. “Just do yourself a favor and be silent. That mouth of yours is one of your worst vices.”

Kara forced herself to speak louder, which made her voice crack. “This is a mistake. Aislynn made a mistake! Don’t become as heartless as her.”

“I am
focused
, not heartless.”

“You had me fooled.”

The princess narrowed her eyes and, for a second, looked as if she would hit Kara. Instead, she took a deep breath. “Apparently, fooling you is not that difficult.”

Kara cringed. Yep. That stung more than any slap could.

Evelyn turned to a set of doors nearby and pushed them open. The guards followed her inside, dragging the otherwise immobile Kara with them.

The doors led to a large room with vaulted ceilings. Fire burned in a few sconces along the wall, illuminating the shadows. Windows covered a wall to the right. Outside, a silver moon hung above a still forest.

The doors slammed shut behind her, and the sconces burned brighter at the sound. A large table consumed most of the room, its chairs filled either by a Blood or his Heir. In Ithone’s case, however, Gurien took Aurora’s place.

Each of the yakona leaders stared at the table or out of the window, eyes out of focus. Some covered their mouths with their hands, while others leaned back in their chairs and rubbed their temples. Apparently, it had been a long and anxious night for them as well.

Gavin caught Kara’s eye—the only one to do so. She shook her head in disgust. He swallowed hard and turned away.

She suppressed the second urge to vomit as she realized the truth.

“You all knew,” she said, her voice hoarse from the pain and queasiness.

“We did,” Gavin admitted. He wouldn’t look at her this time.

Evelyn cleared her throat. “Everything was going as planned until the muse’s companion interrupted. Aislynn was unable to complete the ritual and is currently ill because it was ended early, but it looks like she will heal in just a few days. We knew that was a risk. The Vagabond didn’t take well to the poisoned shackles and has only just awoken.”

Frine leaned his elbows on the table. “It looks more like you didn’t take the shackles off of her. Look at her. Has she even eaten since the incident?”

Evelyn arched her back. “She’d be dead if she hadn’t.”

But the princess’s eye twitched again. She
was
lying! Someone must have kept Kara unconscious all this time, probably to keep her quiet. If Kara ever got her energy back, she would punch the princess first thing. In the face.

Ithone sighed. “Focus, everyone. Aislynn failed, and
we lost the willing aid of the Vagabond. I simply wish there had been a way to trap the muses without her.”

Evelyn nodded. “We must decide what to do with her. The poisons in her blood are still strong enough to subdue her for at least another day. She will need them again soon if we wish to subdue her.”

Kara looked again to Gavin, though she doubted he would actually help her. He refused to catch her gaze. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his temple as if lost in thought. Dark circles lined the space beneath his eyes.

“What will happen to Kara when the poison wears off?” he asked.

Evelyn turned to Ithone, as if the Kirelm had asked the question instead of her ex-lover. “That is what we must decide, and soon. She cannot be controlled by the spikes for much longer without permanently damaging her body and mind. However, Aislynn has asked to be present for that discussion. I believe we should keep the Vagabond subdued with the spikes’ poisons until Aislynn is well enough again to join the debate.”

Gavin smacked the table. “Let’s not kid ourselves! You’re saying that you want Aislynn around when we decide who should control the Vagabond.”

“That was implied, yes.”

Kara pulled every ounce of her energy into her next words. She had to make them count. “I only wanted peace, but none of you deserve it!”

Everyone turned to her. Her neck ached as she forced herself to look at them one at a time. Her ears started to ring. Most of the leaders turned away or looked out the window when she caught their eye, and only Ithone maintained eye contact.

“I think that’s enough for one night. I vote to wait for Aislynn,” he said.

Frine nodded in agreement. “And I. She has proven how far she will go for our cause.”

“I agree,” Gavin added. Kara couldn’t help but wonder if there was a dual meaning to his words.

The guards dragged her from the room. As she left, she tried one last time to catch Gavin’s eye. He watched her leave, but a wave of nausea swept over her as he did.

More gray walls blurred by, until her eyes closed of their own accord. The world stopped moving, eventually, but her head continued to spin. A door latched. Crickets chirped somewhere far away, their orchestra conjuring a memory of her dad once telling her that crickets were nature’s thermometer.

She shivered. Her cheeks flushed, and she wanted to vomit.

Kara had failed, just like the first Vagabond. Those she had tried to protect had turned on her. According to Aislynn, they hadn’t ever respected her to begin with. And not only that, but they had turned on those who protected her as well.

She didn’t know where Braeden had gone. Richard and Twin had no way of knowing what happened. Garrett would likely never speak to her again. Adele might be dead.

Kara was most definitely on her own. She didn’t know what was worse, though: that she was alone, or that she had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Braeden awoke to the relief of the chains sliding off his arms.

He opened his eyes. The sunlight blurred the dungeon into smeared streaks of gray. He lay still to let his body heal around the poison.

His feet pushed the burnt boot soles out of his skin. Each landed on the floor with a
thump.
Joints popped into place. Broken bones creaked as they fused back together. Burnt patches of skin dissolved into the unmarred charcoal gray that he so hated.

He stared at the ceiling. He’d be here a while.

Hair pushed through his head, growing back wherever it had been burnt off. Bits of his ears that had been melted in the torture now grew back. His fingers twitched as feeling returned. He shuddered as tremors shook his body, no doubt healing internal bleeding.

Braeden did not sit up until his body recovered. He wouldn’t look at himself until he was whole again. He never wanted to know how bad it had truly been.

When he did finally push himself into a sitting position, his arms shook under the minimal weight he applied to them. The room wobbled. He took a deep breath and sat still until he regained his balance.

His vision returned, but he barely recognized the man staring back at him in the mirror. It was him, but he didn’t show an ounce of emotion. His eyes were dead, and even though he was terrified at seeing the cold creature he’d become, nothing registered on his face.

The cold floor stung his bare feet. He looked around. Clothes and a new pair of boots sat on the first stair, so he grabbed them and changed.

As he threw his now-tattered clothes on the floor, a piece of paper slipped out of a pocket and slid across the tiles. A small square of photo paper followed shortly after.

Braeden knelt and picked them up—the pictures. A rip or two marred the singed corners; otherwise, the people in the photographs all smiled up at him without a scratch.