Lichgates: Book One of the Grimoire Saga (an Epic Fantasy Adventure) (32 page)

Kara slowed, letting the princess walk ahead, and sauntered over to the wall. She brushed the vines to the side, trying to avoid the thorns, and all but threw her hands in the air with victory when she figured out what it was.

The map piece!

Her eyes flitted to the princess, who was still walking along the path and hadn’t even noticed her move. The yakona’s silver and black head disappeared behind a wall and drifted out of sight, so Kara dug her nails behind a corner of the stone and tugged.

It didn’t budge.

“Vagabond?” The princess’s voice rang from the other side of the wall.

Kara’s heart skipped a beat. She bit her lip and dug her nails deeper into the wedge. A centimeter pulled free. The rock grated. A fingernail snapped. She took another breath, held it, and pulled until her cheeks flushed from the effort. The map piece popped free, falling into her hands like a five-pound dumbbell. She slipped it into her satchel and leaned against the wall in what she hoped was a leisurely slouch seconds before the princess rounded the corner.

“Is everything all right?” Aurora glanced to the rose wall with a puzzled look on her face.

“Yep. I was just—uh—admiring these roses. They’re so—blue.”

Kara wanted to hit her head against the wall at the dumb remark, but she forced a smile instead. Really? They were blue, huh?

The Heir narrowed her eyes. “I see. Well, I do hope my silence hasn’t bored you.”

“Not at all.”

“I just—” Aurora’s eyes slipped out of focus again and whatever had bothered her returned with a vengeance. Kara sighed with relief when the princess continued walking, apparently already forgetting the temporary disappearance.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, trying to nudge the conversation away from the wall and the secret map piece hidden in her shoulder bag.

“I pray that I am not overstepping any boundaries of propriety,” the princess said. “But I feel that I must warn you for the reception you will receive.”

“What do you mean?”

The nightmarish memory of the bleeding woman flashed in her mind. She held her breath and looked back to the small wrought iron gate that was the only exit.

“What are you doing?” Aurora set her hand on Kara’s shoulder, which only came up to the princess’s chest. Even with her added height, the yakona was much thinner. Her frail hand blocked out Kara’s peripheral vision with a silver blur, but the touch nonetheless soothed her panic.

“Is something going to happen?” Kara asked. “Do I need to leave?”

Aurora laughed. “Heavens, no. I must apologize. That was not the manner in which I should have introduced the subject. You are a creature of peace and should feel at home wherever you go.”

“Then what did you want to warn me about?”

“Regardless of your gifts as the Vagabond, my father and his seers will only see that you are a woman. They will only see your dress, which will make tomorrow’s meeting difficult for you.”

Kara hesitated. “What does wearing a dress have to do with anything? I mean, you’re a woman and the Heir. You’ll be Blood someday. Why should they care if I’m a woman?”

“I’m the first female Heir in the history of our nation.” The princess looked to the ground and took a deep breath, as if it was a shameful thing. “My father has betrothed me to General Gurien so he can lead when I am not capable.”

Kara gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to both laugh and scream at the same time. “That’s—uh—interesting.”

“Kirelms are simple,” Aurora continued. “Men are warriors while women embody the art, beauty, and spirituality of our nation. With this balance, warriors will always have something to protect. It’s basic and modest and our most cherished belief.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Kara said, almost certain that she would sound rude anyway, “but you’re meant to be a leader. You can’t deny what you were born to be.”

The words grated against her throat as they left her mouth, and she suppressed the thought of Braeden as quickly as it arose.

“One never knows what one was born to be,” Aurora said. “Nor could you know what another is meant to do with life. I ask that you not judge us, Vagabond. If you do, you will not succeed here.”

The truth in the princess’s words made Kara swallow a sarcastic retort.

Aurora nodded to the gate. “I must leave, but a maid is waiting for you by the stairs just beyond the garden. She will lead you to your room.”

Kara bowed her head in thanks, unable to speak for fear of saying something stupid in her rising annoyance. She headed back to the garden gate and walked toward the castle as Aurora set off in another direction.

The gate opened without a sound, and as she walked through it, Kara spotted a small set of stairs which led from the side of the castle. They curved out onto a side path, their bottom steps rounded out like the wave of an ocean. A broad set of doors stood at the top of the steps and opened for her as she took the stairs two at a time.

A Kirelm woman in a simple blue gown stood in the center of the hallway, barring the way as the doors swung apart. The maid flashed a thick grin, but Kara’s aggravation at what Aurora had said was bubbling now, festering so that she couldn’t contain it anymore. She walked around the maid without pausing or acknowledging her, but the woman’s smile didn’t falter. She spun and matched Kara’s pace.

“My lady, may I show you to your room?” the maid asked.

Kara debated following her, but her stomach gurgled. “Actually, can you show me to the kitchen?”

“We will bring you a feast, Vagabond.”

“I’d rather explore a little. Please just tell me where the kitchen is.”

The woman’s cheeks flushed green. She scuttled around and stopped just ahead of Kara, nearly toppling both of them in the process. The woman began to plead with her in a quiet, pitiful voice.

“Please, Miss! You must go to your room!”

“Oh my goodness, all right!” Kara put her hands up in surrender, the babbling too much to bear. The woman was like a moth dive-bombing her head.

The yakona smiled, relieved, and ushered her up the stairs. The sloping stairwell was covered in plush blue carpet, and its spiraled railing led the way to a hallway one floor up. Doors lined the left side of the hall every ten feet or so, but to the right was a railing that looked out over a courtyard. In the open space was an indoor waterfall, which began about twenty feet above and crashed to a lazy river below. Mist curled up from the black rocks that lined the stream as it coursed down the hall and out of sight.

The woman hurried Kara onward, trotting her away from the breathtaking falls with an urgency that could only mean she wasn’t meant to be seen. The crash of the waterfall became a distant hum, but the river still wound in lazy curves below.

They finally stopped at a silver door identical to the rest. Kara suppressed a deep sigh and walked in when the maid opened it.

“Will you nee—”

“Just the food, thanks,” Kara interrupted.

She slammed the door behind her and stretched her arms in frustration on her way to the window, where she glared out at the fading dusk. The stars were brilliant in the dark blue haze above, glimmering from their own worlds far away. She wondered if life beyond was as messed up as it was on Earth.

The door creaked open and latched closed again. Floorboards creaked. She turned to see a broad-shouldered Kirelm soldier looking down at her.

“Will you all leave me alone?!”

“Uh,” he stuttered.

She glanced at his white shell necklace. “Oh. Sorry, Braeden.”

He took a step closer. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you. I was worried.”

“I’m fine. I went on a walk with Aurora.”

She watched him with a sideways glare. This was Braeden, sure, but it was too strange that he had a different face.

“So you were attacked on the way here?” He crossed the room and examined her, lifting her chin and checking her arms for injuries.

She was too tired and frustrated to pretend to fight him—truthfully, his touch was welcome warmth after the bitter wind from their flight over. He seethed and paused. He must’ve seen the gash on her neck from the branch that knocked her out in the ambush.

“Carden’s guys,” she said absently.

He pressed his thumb to the wound without answering. There was no sting like she’d expected; instead, the skin tingled. It seared and cooled in the instant he touched her. He moved his hand away too soon. The throbbing itch disappeared, and, when she rubbed her neck, so had the gash.

“Thanks for that.” She craned her neck to look up at him. He frowned, his eyes shrouded with worry. Without thinking about it, she laughed.

“What—why are you laughing?”

“It’s so weird talking to you when you look like this.”

“This isn’t funny,” he said, but he smirked. “How was your detour with Heir Aurora?”

“Annoying.” Kara stopped smiling at the thought of the princess. Her lip and eyebrow both twitched.

“I understand your frustration. They aren’t fond of women here.”

“Oh they love girls,” she said, imitating Aurora’s warm honey voice as she rolled her eyes. “But only if they sew and curtsey.”

“Tomorrow is going to be interesting,” he said, eying her. “I suppose I should let you get some rest.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told the soldiers that I come from one of Kirelm’s outer villages.” He grinned, cracking his knuckles. “I get to spar.”

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, lying low?”

“Nah.” He waved away the thought. “I found them on the Rose Cliffs. I told them I was visiting my sister and would be leaving in a few days. They’re kind, really.”

“You didn’t invite me to watch the sparring?” Her heart fell as she eyed his broad, black wings. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Sorry. Ladies have a curfew. However, I might have been inadvertently involved in getting you a bedroom that overlooks the sparring arena.”

He grinned and retreated from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Kara smiled and shook her head, turning once more to look out the window. If she’d looked down as she pondered the stars, she would have seen the sparring arena. It was a large circular platform encased with more of the thin, woven wires that surrounded the city. Soldiers pooled in groups of two and three near it, talking or pulling off their shirts for the combat ahead. They each had tattoos on their right arms, just like Braeden. The sprawling works of art ran from their biceps to their shoulders, and some even had tattoos which climbed down their entire arms and finished on the backs of their hands. She’d have to ask the Grimoire about that someday.

Someone knocked, but it opened without a pause. The woman from earlier brought in a tray of fruits, bread, strips of red meat glazed with honey, and a glass of wine. Kara muttered her thanks and grabbed the wine before the woman set down the tray.

She turned back to the window and saw a group of ten Kirelms walking to the arena, but couldn’t see any necklaces from this distance. However, she did recognize one long scrolling tattoo that spiked along a soldier’s chest, though no one else seemed interested in how different his jagged tattoo was from the others. She chuckled, pitying whoever agreed to spar Braeden.

He entered the arena first, and a much taller, much broader soldier followed him in. The door closed. Braeden turned and froze mid-stretch when he saw his massive opponent.

Kara grappled for the lock on the window. She had to hear this. The latch gave her trouble, and it took a few seconds before she heard the sharp pop that meant it was open. The window opened only about two inches, so she made do with what she had and folded her arms on the windowsill.

The two men in the arena circled as the audience cheered. The Kirelm soldier threw test blows to flush out weak spots, but Braeden watched and waited, ducking lightly out of the way of each blow. The jabs became faster, until the soldier feigned a punch and used the distraction to hurl his wing into Braeden’s chest.

Braeden flew through the air and landed against the cage wires, falling to the platform with an audible thud, like bricks hitting cement. Kara gasped, but it was a stupid thing to do. He was an Heir. He’d be fine.

The disguised prince rolled beneath another swing and jumped to his feet. He delivered three jabs into the soldier’s solar plexus, side, and chest before he shot a thick current of wind that knocked the soldier clear onto his back.

The Kirelm nodded defeat and limped out of the arena.

The audience cheered through the metals gaps in the arena walls, the general among them. Braeden tried to bow himself from the ring, but the crowd roared in protest and he was given another contestant: and another, and another, until the sun was completely gone and their only light came from lamps nearby.

“One more!” The soldiers laughed after Braeden shrugged to them, asking for his freedom with a sheepish grin. He ran his hand through his hair and nodded.

“One more!” he agreed.

The gate opened and General Gurien walked into the arena. The Kirelm spread his broad white wings, which glowed just as brightly in the lamplight as they had in the sun. Braeden’s smile faded as the crowd applauded the new contestant, but he recovered after a second and bowed in welcome.