Heritage: Book Three of the Grimoire Saga (40 page)

Her world shook.

White fuzz spread over the memories like developing mold. The images blurred into a mess of color. Reds faded to brown. Brown to black. Deidre’s mind reeled. An ache crept through her temples. Something had gone wrong.

Pressure wrapped around her neck, almost like fingers around her throat. The ache worsened. The white fuzz continued to grow, consuming everything. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t react. She couldn’t fathom what was going on.

You conniving little slave!
Carden’s voice rang through her head.

Oh, no.

I gave you everything,
he continued.
I gave you everything, and I wanted to give you so much more. I would have killed a dozen more like Niccoli for you. I would have given you any head you wanted on a silver platter, but you betrayed me.

Deidre tried to gasp through the blur of Carden’s emotions and corroding memories. An icy wave of fear melted in her gut.

His voice thundered on, deeper with every word.
I gave you your revenge, as you wanted. How was it not enough? How was I never enough? You may have killed my body, but I would sooner take you to the next life with me than let you trap my soul in the wretched carcass of your mind!

With a jolt, the fear in Deidre’s gut condensed into a knot. Carden wanted to kill her and drag her soul with him into the next life. She wasn’t done yet. She couldn’t let him overtake her.

Adrenaline spiked through her body. The white fuzz receded. Her mind cleared. In the black recesses of her mind, Carden appeared in front of her, his hands around her neck. The grip around her throat tightened.

She grabbed one of his hands and bent it back. Bones splintered in her grip. Carden screamed. His hold on her neck loosened.

Her mind, her rules. Even though they were two lone souls fighting for dominance, she would ensure he experienced every ounce of pain his body would have endured.

On her command, electricity burned through her. A bolt of light struck him in the chest. He flew backward. Deidre gestured to the empty space behind him, and a rock wall appeared from the darkness. Carden hit it with a
whack
. His head bounced against granite, and he crumpled into a pile.

He struggled to his feet, ankle still broken from his earlier fight with Niccoli. Deidre threw all of her energy into an uppercut to his gut. He groaned and dropped again. She elbowed the base of his neck, right where she’d pricked him with the barb in her palm. He cried out in pain and fell on his face.

She flipped him onto his back and set a knee on his stomach to keep him from moving. He groaned and reached to slap her, but she easily ducked out of the way.

This would be over soon.

Before he could swing again, she touched her pointer finger to the space between his eyes. He froze, his stare glossing over. A lustrous sheen spread from under her touch, coating his body as it traveled over him. After only a few seconds, he lay still and polished as a wax statue.

Deidre blew him a kiss. “I’ll see you later, dear.”

With a deep breath, she pulled herself back to the present. Her cheek lay against something solid. A sharp pain shot through her arm. Her neck ached.

She blinked herself awake, only to find her hands around her own neck. She grimaced and pried them away, careful to stretch her fingers until the tension began to dissolve. She cursed Carden’s murderous strength and ran a finger along her sore throat. The trauma would leave a mark.

The moon had shifted above her and now sat along the edge of the forest’s dark canopy. A howl echoed in the distance. A strong wind rushed through the foliage until the clap of leaves drowned out the distant creature’s wail.

Carden’s corpse lay beneath her, his eyes frozen open in shock. Deidre laughed and flicked his ear. Black dust drifted to the ground, leaving behind black piles of sand instead of blood. She loved the way yakona began to dissolve into dust so quickly after death, even if she never understood why it happened.

Another pain shot up her arm. Red blood trickled from a gash in her bicep. She frowned, her muscles tensing on instinct. Though she hated pain, this would be a perfect chance to test Carden’s healing ability.

She sorted through his memories for an answer as to how he controlled the gift, but found nothing useful. This talent wasn’t something he could manipulate. It merely happened.

Her frown deepened. She usually absorbed all of her victims’ gifts, but absorbing a Blood was new territory. To her knowledge, it had never been done. Considering the power of the yakona bloodlines, there was no telling what gifts she’d retained and which she’d lost.

It didn’t really matter. She’d won. All she needed from Carden was his face.

Deidre stretched and smiled up to the night sky, pondering this little change in plans. She now faced an interesting dilemma: if she couldn’t heal instantly, she probably also couldn’t control the Stelians—which likely meant Braeden had become Blood after all. She shrugged. No matter, since he probably didn’t know. Last she’d heard, he was on his way to Ayavel, unconscious from wounds he might not even survive.

Even if Braeden did survive, he would fail like his father. The young king would give her the final revenge she craved. The world hated Carden, and Braeden would lead whole armies right to the Stele to end him—and unknowingly end her.

Only, Deidre had other plans for Braeden’s soldiers, and she would see to the new Stelian Blood herself. She didn’t expect to survive the coming battle. She didn’t want to. Before the war ended, she would meet Death once more—and leave the world burning in her wake.

A NOTE TO READERS

I hope you enjoyed
Heritage
. If you have a moment, please leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, your blog, or any combination thereof. Reviews keep me in business, so I would appreciate hearing your thoughts about the novel—even if it’s only a sentence.

We writers love hearing back from you. If you want to reach out and say hi, feel free to tweet me (@thesmboyce) or send me an email by heading over to
my contact page
(smboyce.com/contact-boyce).

Like free stuff? Me, too. Well, I like giving it away. For chances to win prizes four times a year, go to my site under “Fan Central” and join my Street Team. It’s really a lot of fun, so head over when you can.

You can also get signed eBooks and sign up to get ARCs of my future novels. To learn more, check out the “Awesome Extras” section of the footer on smboyce.com.

If you want more Grimoire goodies, take a look at my store (smboyce.com). It has tons of fun extras that bring the magic of the Grimoire Saga to life. You can even find real-life Grimoire pendants and blank journals that let you write a Grimoire of your own.

Thanks again, and stay awesome.

—S. M. Boyce

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

International Amazon Bestseller. Fantasy Author. Twitter addict. Book Blogger. Geek. Sarcastic. Gooey. Odd. Author of the action-packed Grimoire Saga.

S.M. Boyce is a fiction novelist who loves ghosts, magic, and spooky things. She prefers loose-leaf tea, reads far too many books, and is always cold. She’s married to her soul mate and couldn’t be happier. Her B.A. in Creative Writing qualifies her to serve you french fries.

Boyce likes to update her blog a few times each week so that you have something to wake you up in the morning.

smboyce.com

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This novel would be wordier if not for my charming and talented editor, Chase Nottingham.

My amazing beta readers helped shape this novel, so special thanks to: Nikki Jefford, Thomas Winship, Wynne Channing, Christie Rich, and Raye Wagner.

And of course, my content editor/husband is an epic badass who helped make this story even better than I ever imagined. Thank you, Geoff.

BONUS CONTENT

Excerpt from
Silent Orchids

Book One in the
Age of Alandria
Series

A Young Adult Fantasy by Morgan Wylie

Hey there! It’s Boyce. I want to share one of my new favorite authors with you—Morgan Wylie. She has an incredible epic fantasy voice for fans of the genre, and her stories are both complex and vivid. I hope you enjoy this little look into her novel. Check out the full novel in all major online retailers if this is your thing. Happy reading!

PROLOGUE

A different realm. An earlier time.

Darkness had fallen, but the stars refused to shine. Dulled light shone softly from two reluctant moons hanging, bloated with grief, reflecting the heart of Alandria. The king and queen of the Faeries had been slain, along with the princess, the remaining heir of Feraánmar. Her love and partner in rebuilding the treaties between the races, the prince of the Elves and heir to the throne of Alandria, was lost—presumed dead. As was the hope for a united Alandria.

In the depths of the Forest of Lumei, the Elders carried out their last act before they disbanded. Some would diminish with time, cloaked in glamour to live out their days. Some would go into hiding to preserve what remained of the ancient magic for another life.

Floating balls of fire along the periphery lit the clearing. There were no additional witnesses but for the forest and the creatures that lay within; their cries and calls were the only sounds to be heard in the vast silence. At the cry of the raven, seven figures hooded in ancient tradition walked ceremonially from the forest, each stopping at one of the seven points indicated on the star burned into the ground. Robes colored in blue, purple, brown, dark green, crimson, light green, and white each represented a different tribe. They carried in one hand a single candle with a purple flame flickering in the stillness of the night. In the other, a small silver dagger carried by the hilt, point toward the sky. The light from the flames reflected off each of the blades, dancing onto the trees and creating the illusion of a greater light. The hooded figure in green at the top point of the star said something in a very low, monotone voice. A single word in an ancient language.

“Drachmot.”

Everything went silent: all the creatures of the earth and sky. Simultaneously, the flames extinguished. Darkness.

Two heartbeats of silence. As suddenly as all fell into darkness a sound arose so primal, so ancient, it seemed to come from the depths of the earth. Flames ignited with a burst of life, permitting the creatures to release their cries, their sorrows for the tragedy that had befallen them all. In the center of the star, where there had been only a large, flat-topped boulder, stood another hooded figure, this one cloaked in black. His head was bowed, his stature humbled, wrists bound in front of him by shackles alight with a fire that did not burn.