Illusion: Book Four of the Grimoire Saga (27 page)

Twin sank into her chair, his words enough to quell the rising fear. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

The door creaked open. A maid entered, her green gown sweeping the floor and complimenting the honey tone to her skin. She smiled, her red hair framing a full face. “Can I get you all anything?”

“More wine,” Fenner said.

A fleeting sense of irony kept Twin from replying. She used to serve, and now she could place orders and command others. How strange.

“And you, my Lady?”

Twin almost laughed at the title, but at least she found her voice. “I’m fine, thank you.”

The servant curtsied and slipped back into the hallway.

Twin couldn’t eat or drink anything right now. She wanted to know how the Stelians intercepted the Lossians. They shouldn’t have known the Lossians were down there. Braeden’s instructions had been clear, and Frine wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his people. Someone else must have told the Stele about the attack. Maybe all of it, including Kara and Braeden’s independent mission. Twin’s mind once again slipped into a fearful image of Kara—her friend’s hands shielding her face seconds before a sword ripped through her neck.

With a jolt, Twin snapped out of the horrific daydream and back into the quiet throne room. She rubbed her face and cursed under her breath. “I need some air.”

She pushed the chair back and stood, grabbing her grimoire on the way out. She didn’t trust Fenner enough to leave it, ally or no.

“I’ll join you,” Fenner said.

A twinge of annoyance sailed clear down to Twin’s heels. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Twin hadn’t spent a moment alone since she arrived. Maids even tried to bathe her before she ushered them out with a few choice words. She wanted some peace and quiet, even in the all-too-likely case that Gavin ordered her to be monitored at all times. He wasn’t here. She could evade maids and soldiers long enough for a few moments of peace.

Fenner stood. “Of course you don’t need a babysitter. You’re my only means of communication to the outside world, and if I can’t join in the action, I would at least like to know what’s going on.”

He was too calm, damn it. His relaxed nature made her want to scream. How could he not worry?

“Fine,” she muttered.

He pulled open the throne room door for her, and she passed through ahead of him with a frustrated nod of thanks. They trotted out into the open street, the main road stretching before them all the way to the locked lichgate in the distance. The sun glinted off the gold vines that covered the entrance to the city.

Twin paused on the front steps. Guards lined the stairs in traditional fashion, serving no other purpose than to look intimidating for the empty streets. Any Hillsidians not in the war remained in their homes out of respect for the battle raging in a distant corner of the world.

Concern gnawed Twin’s stomach, festering into full-blown fear. This wasn’t right. Her body ached for no reason, and her intuition screamed that something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she wanted to yell until something made sense.

Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and told herself to be rational.

Fenner began his way down the steps, apparently done examining the view, and Twin followed.

“Why aren’t you in the war?” she asked.

“Beg your pardon?”

“You said you couldn’t ‘join the action.’ Why?”

“Ah. Blood Gavin wanted someone he could trust guarding his home. He and I have been sparring together since we were in diapers. I can’t say we’re friends, since he’s significantly more important than me, but he knows I would die to protect my home.”

“Then shouldn’t you be in the Stele with him?”

Fenner smiled. “I am admittedly better at defensive planning than offense. It just makes more sense to my mind. But yes, I admit I’m still a bit ruffled I couldn’t go.”

Twin nodded, not sure what else to say. They meandered through the main road, walking slowly in the afternoon sunlight. She wondered if it was dark yet in the Stele, far away as it was.

A scream rang through the air. It ended with a gurgle.

Fenner snapped to attention and reached for his sword hilt.

Twin clutched her grimoire a bit tighter. “What was that?”

Fenner shushed her. He narrowed his eyes and tensed, scanning the empty streets. His gaze focused on the lichgate in the distance, and his body stilled to the point where Twin wasn’t sure the man was breathing.

Bells rang through the city. Twin flinched. Her grimoire slipped, about to fall, but she held on and pulled it to her chest.

The warning bells of an impending attack. Twin had only ever heard them in drills.

Fenner drew his sword and yelled something to the guards on the stairs. They ran forward. Twin couldn’t quite focus on his words—everything whizzed by her as she tried to process that they were being attacked.

A Hillsidian soldier raced toward her—or, more likely, Fenner. The guard ran faster than any Twin had ever seen. Fenner ran for him as well, closing the distance between them. Twin chased after him, doing her best to keep up.

They met each other before she could reach them, and she caught the tail end of the soldier’s report.

“…before Hillsidian assassins dropped from the canopy and began taking out sentries. We suspect more will follow, maybe an army. No word from sentries farther out. Some of the attackers have already infiltrated the kingdom, likely by stealing another soldier’s key to the city. I managed to grab a fallen comrade’s key before an assassin could get it.”

“Those aren’t Hillsidians,” Fenner answered.

“But sir—”

“No Hillsidians would attack their own capital. The Blood would simply order them to surrender upon his return. These aren’t Hillsidians we’re dealing with.”

Twin nodded. But that meant they’d changed form, and only two yakona kingdoms had that ability—the Stele and Ayavel.

A second bell rang at a higher pitch. Twin covered her ear with one hand, the other still holding her grimoire. She wished the book away, blue dust swirling about her as she hunched at the shrill sound. She wanted to write an update in her grimoire, but this wasn’t the place. She wouldn’t get two words out before a stampede raced toward the castle. She needed to help evacuate citizens to safe areas.

A woman opened a nearby door and looked out with wide eyes. Her lips moved, but Twin couldn’t hear the question.

The city flared to life. Doors opened. People screamed. The second bell was the warning to get to the vault—a system of tunnels below the castle that led to a safe room with food and water for the whole city. Tunnels ran under most of the homes, connecting almost everyone to a safe path to the vault. It would be cramped, but many would survive.

Guards raced by, running for the front gates. Twin hesitated by Fenner, who still shouted orders over the bells. Soldiers ran toward him, standing at his side with their swords drawn. Twin was a decent fighter, but she doubted she would be a match for trained soldiers. She didn’t want to get in the way. Instead, she would act as a healer.

She tapped Fenner’s shoulder to tell him her plan. He turned to her, his once-calm face now wrinkled with concentration. His sharp eyes focused on her with a ferocity that froze her in place. His brow twisted, back arched as he waited for her to speak. Her words stumbled in her mouth, and she fought to remember what she was going to say.

The front gates unraveled, the vines writhing as they opened. Stelian soldiers in black uniforms pushed against the vines to help the process along. Their charcoal skin contrasted with the gold glint of the metal gate. Their black eyes had no whites to them. Smoke hovered around them like a fog. They towered over the few unlucky Hillsidians on the near side of the fence.

Twin’s breath slipped from her body in a huff.

They couldn’t possibly be here unless they knew about the entire war—Braeden’s plan, the final attack, everything. They attacked Hillside at its weakest, when its Blood and most of its army was the farthest away. Somewhere amid the leaders and generals, there was a rat. Someone told Carden everything.

A hand grabbed Twin’s shoulder and spun her around. Fenner’s intense face once more filled her vision.

“Go to the vault!” he commanded.

“You need healers! Let me stay.”

“Get to the vault, vagabond! You’re my only voice to the outside, remember? I need you alive! Now go!”

She gritted her teeth but raced toward the castle. A mother and three children ran with her, their home apparently not connected to the vault system. She took the castle stairs two at a time and led her small group inside. They followed her as she scrambled through the halls. Men in green uniforms with the Hillsidian coat of arms pushed past, likely to join the fight.

A wolf statue came into view around a corner. Twin skidded to a halt, the family almost crashing into her. The marble wolf sat on its hind legs, claws outstretched as it snarled. She pulled on its left paw, grunting as the stubborn stone fought her. The mother jumped in to help, her feet dangling off the floor as she set her weight into the task. Between them, the paw lowered.

The statue creaked and swung on its hinges like a door. Twin ushered everyone backward to let it open. Stairs stretched below into utter darkness, only the first few steps illuminated with the hallway’s sunlight. Twin sent the group down the stairs. They filed in, one by one. After the last child slipped past, Twin hopped in and grabbed a handle on the back of the statue. She pulled, and the hidden door swung shut. It latched, and she imagined the paw springing back into place.

Her rescued citizens pooled at the bottom of the stairs. The mother sobbed. Her children mumbled in hushed tones, but they needed to be quiet. Twin shushed them, but no one seemed to hear her.

She beckoned to a girl, maybe thirteen. The girl raced back up the stairs.

“I need to give you a very important job,” Twin said.

The girl’s eyes grew wider. “Anything, vagabond.”

“Do you know the way to the vault?”

The girl nodded.

“Good. Take this group there and lead anyone else you find along the way. Everyone must be silent or the invaders will hear us. Can you do that?”

The girl nodded again and sped down the stairs.

Twin pressed her ear against the door and listened. Nothing. Only her racing heart thrummed, the pulse enough to question the spell of calm she’d employed to get them into the stairwell. A small metal plate the width of her hand covered a section of the door, its edges illuminated with a thin square of light. She dug her fingernails into one end and slid the plate aside, uncovering a small peephole. She leaned in, studying what she could see of the hallway. No one ran by.

She slid the metal plate back over the peephole and sat on the top step. Her knees shook. She buried her head in her hands and allowed her mind to finally process what was going on.

Stelians. Invaders. Betrayal. Somewhere in their lines, a traitor fought among them. She summoned her grimoire and set it in her lap, blue flares of light casting a cool glow on the stone at her feet. She lit a small fire in her left palm, which shed enough light for reading. She opened the book, but the pages jumped ahead. There must have been another message entered into the grimoires while Twin was running.

The pages landed on the war updates. Rieve had added two entries. One, a rushed alert that Ayavel would move in, though Reive worried they were too far away to be useful. The second, a heartbreaking tirade littered with smudges and tear stains. Twin covered her mouth and sobbed. Zimmermann, likely dead. Rieve on the run. Evelyn on a murderous rampage, killing her own people.

It clicked.

Evelyn betrayed them. For whatever reason, she must have told Carden everything. The queen had no other reason for waiting to attack Rieve until after she told the rest of the vagabonds the Ayavelian army had headed in to help. She wanted the warriors to think a second wave of healers and soldiers would arrive soon, even though it never would. She would have known Hillside and the other kingdoms would be vulnerable. Between that and the blatant murder of an Ayavelian vagabond, Evelyn had switched sides.

Twin scribbled her thoughts as fast as she could beneath Rieve’s note, warning the others of the attack on Hillside and the possible connection to Evelyn. A flicker of doubt burned with every word she wrote. This could be heresy. She doubted she had any right to accuse a Blood of betraying the vagabonds, but she didn’t care. This made sense, and in the off-chance Kara or any other vagabond read her words in time, Twin had to let them know her theory.

A man shouted in the hall. Twin flinched. Her ink smeared. She cursed under her breath and continued writing.

Other men answered the first. She didn’t understand what they were saying. Their voices growled over the words, sometimes humming or grunting in answer. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, but she finished putting her fears onto paper. The cover snapped shut, and she wished it away in a puff of blue dust. She shook her hand to put out the fire.

Once more, she slid the peephole cover aside with all the care she could muster. Hands shaking, she exposed only half of it to reduce the chances of them noticing. A soldier’s gray arm blocked most of her view. She all but yelped in surprise. She bit her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath until she could close the peephole cover.