Chapter Twelve
“No,” Kiva whispered, staring at Naari’s unconscious form while hearing an echo of what Caldon had said earlier that evening: Your sister did something to her. It’s . . . hard to explain.
“Heal her.”
The two hard words made Kiva turn from Naari to meet Jaren’s stormy gaze. The look on his face — Kiva flinched and curled in on herself, unable to bear the fury in his eyes and, worse, the devastation.
“I — I’m not sure —” Her voice was choked, but she drew in a deep breath and admitted, “I don’t know how to heal this.”
Jaren’s expression didn’t change, so Kiva took a shaky step forward, touching a trembling hand to Naari’s skin. Her flesh was warm, her pulse strong. There were no wounds or signs of illness. If not for the unnatural shadows, everything about her seemed normal, healthy.
Zuleeka’s dark magic had swirled around Nanna Delora when Kiva had arrived at Murkwood Cottage, and soon after, Delora had died. But this was something different. It was as if Naari was in a coma, and if she’d been like this for weeks — “How has she been eating? And drinking?” Kiva asked, her healer sensibilities kicking in, helping her push past her initial horror.
“She hasn’t been,” Caldon said. “She should have died from dehydration weeks ago. She should have wasted away to nothing. But instead” — he indicated her perfectly fit physique — “it’s like she’s frozen in time, kept alive by Zuleeka’s magic, but also kept, well . . . like this.”
Kiva marveled at what her sister’s power was capable of, even as every part of her recoiled.
“Heal her,” Jaren ordered again, his hands bunched into fists.
Kiva bit her lip. “I told you, I don’t know if I —”
She stopped abruptly when Jaren’s eyes trapped hers, like twin pools of raging fire, and he said, “It’s the least you can do after everything else you’ve done.”
That was a direct hit, straight to Kiva’s heart. It took her a moment to fight the tears that wanted to pour from her eyes, and she only managed because Caldon moved closer, offering his silent support. Give him time, he’d said. But Kiva was beginning to fear that all the time in the world wouldn’t help mend her relationship with Jaren.
Healing Naari was a good place to start, though.
Determined to make at least one thing right between them, Kiva reached through the shadows to lay her hands over the guard’s chest. She refused to think about how temperamental her magic had been of late, and instead closed her eyes and focused on the power in her blood, coaxing it to the surface. Without a discernible injury or sickness, Kiva concentrated on the death magic itself, willing her golden light to appear and destroy its hold on Naari. Last time she’d only managed to break Zuleeka’s power by recalling her grandmother’s words: Be the light in the dark.
She repeated those same words to herself now.
Be the light in the dark.
I am the light in the dark.
But even without opening her eyes, Kiva knew nothing was happening, and her shoulders began to slump as fear and sadness took hold.
This was Naari — Kiva needed to save her, to heal her. It should have been instinctive, her magic flowing on command, and yet, not even a hint of light appeared, no matter how hard she tried to summon it forth.
“You can do this,” Caldon encouraged quietly from her side, sensing her
flailing spirit.
But he was wrong.
Kiva withdrew her hands and didn’t look at anyone — not Caldon, not Naari, especially not Jaren — as she said, “I’m sorry.” The words broke.
“There’s something wrong with my magic. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t — I can’t heal her.”
She wasn’t surprised when the next thing she heard was Jaren’s angry footsteps moving away from them. She’d failed him. She’d failed Naari.
She’d failed — “Hey, stop that,” Caldon said, grabbing her hands and opening her palms to keep her nails from tearing her flesh. “You’re just tired. We can try again tomorrow.”
Tomorrow wasn’t going to change anything, but Kiva didn’t say as much, certain that if she opened her mouth, she’d only start sobbing again.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Caldon said gently, wrapping his arm around her and guiding her away from Naari.
Kiva didn’t look back as they walked away, knowing it was cowardly and hating herself for it. In an emotion-clogged, painful-sounding voice, she asked, “Can you take me to Tipp?”
Caldon tensed at her side, even as he continued leading her from the infirmary back out into the night. “The moradine tonic —”
“I won’t disturb him,” Kiva said, aware that the sleeping draft Tipp had taken would keep him unconscious until morning. “I just want to be near him. I want to be there when he wakes.”
Caldon hesitated for another moment. “I don’t think this is your best idea.”
Despite his warning, he turned and led her in a different direction, until they eventually came to a large utilitarian building shaped like an L.
“Most of the soldiers sleep in shared dormitories,” Caldon said, pointing to the longer side of the L, “but guards with higher rankings have private quarters. Jaren and I were given two rooms in this block when we arrived, and we found another for Tipp earlier tonight. He’s in here.”
Even knowing Tipp would be asleep, Kiva’s pulse sped up as Caldon opened the door to the building. Together they traversed a quiet hallway full of more doors leading to individual rooms, until he brought her to a stop in front of one of them.
Kiva’s breath hitched when she stepped inside the darkened room and caught sight of Tipp sleeping on a bed in the corner. His mouth was open, and he was snoring lightly, his freckled face at peace. The last time she’d seen him, he’d had tears in his eyes after learning the truth about who she was, and then Zuleeka had knocked him unconscious. Kiva knew she had a lot to answer for, but just being near him again and knowing he was safe eased something within her.
“There’s only one bed,” Caldon said quietly. “I’ll go find you a —”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Kiva said, already moving to Tipp’s side and sliding down to the ground.
“You’ll wake up sore all over,” Caldon argued.
“I’ve slept in worse places,” Kiva said, the shower block at Zalindov coming to mind, along with the Abyss. “I’ll be fine.” Unable to resist, she brushed a tendril of red hair off Tipp’s forehead.
Caldon sighed loudly, then moved toward Kiva and lowered himself beside her.
She looked at him in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“If I end up with a cricked neck, you’re giving me a massage tomorrow,” he said, leaning his head against Tipp’s mattress, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He closed his eyes and said, “Go to sleep, Kiva.”
She couldn’t keep the tears from welling this time, knowing he was only staying there for her.
“Gods, don’t start crying again,” Caldon mumbled, somehow sensing her overflowing emotions, even with his eyes closed. “Come here.” He reached out blindly and drew her closer until her head rested on his shoulder, and only then did he repeat, “Sleep, Kiva.”
And so, curled up next to him, she tried to calm her aching heart enough to follow his command.
Despite her best efforts, it took Kiva hours to fall asleep that night. When she finally woke in the morning, the first thing she noticed was that both Tipp and Caldon were gone.
Hurt flooded her as she realized Tipp must not have wanted to see her, but before she could let the pain take root, the door to the room opened. She looked up, her hopes rising, only to see Ashlyn step through, dressed in the same leather-like armor as her guards, only her outfit was white, rather than black, making the weapons strapped to her body stand out in stark contrast.
“Wow, you look thrilled to see me,” the princess said dryly.
“Sorry,” Kiva said, standing up and stretching her stiff muscles. “I thought you were someone else.”
Ashlyn’s face turned sympathetic. “They just need —”
“Time,” Kiva said glumly. “I know.”
Thankfully, the princess didn’t offer false comfort. “I brought you some breakfast. Cal said he forgot to get you some food last night, so you need to eat.” She held out a plate, then lowered a canvas bag from her shoulder to the ground. “I brought some of my clothes, too. When you’re ready, I’ll take you to the bathing chamber, but I want to check your burn first to make sure it’s healed enough to get wet.”
Kiva wrinkled her nose as she took the food. “You’re very pushy. Just like your brother.”
“He and I are as similar as we are different,” Ashlyn said, a pained note
in her voice.
Carefully, Kiva hedged, “Can I ask —”
“Eat,” Ashlyn ordered, making it clear that she didn’t want to talk about Caldon. “We have a lot to do today, starting with Galdric.”
At the mention of the ex-rebel leader, Kiva obediently started shoveling eggs and beans and toast into her mouth. She finished the plate in record time and then, at Ashlyn’s urging, pushed aside her collar so the princess could inspect her wound. The tight fit of the material made it difficult to see the whole burn, so Kiva had to unlace the front of the dress and wriggle out of the sleeves, leaving her standing in the middle of the room holding the bodice to her chest, her bare back facing the door.
She didn’t hear it open.
But she did hear the growled, “What the hell?”
Kiva whipped around, her eyes as wide as saucers. She gripped the dress tighter, quickly checking to make sure it was fully covering her front, even knowing that a greater damage had already been done.
Because Jaren was standing in the doorway, and given what he’d said — and how he’d said it — he’d clearly seen her shoulder.
In three long strides he was standing before her and ordering, “Turn
around.”
Kiva was frozen to the spot.
“Jaren —” Ashlyn tried, a careful warning in her voice, but he cut her
off.
“Kiva, turn around.”
It was the sound of her name on his lips that unfroze her, and her eyes shot to his. There was something in his expression that she didn’t dare read into, needing to protect her broken heart.
But even so, she saw it.
He was concerned — for her.
And for some reason, that terrified her.
Kiva began trembling visibly enough that Jaren noticed. His face changed then, gentling slightly, transforming him not quite into the Jaren she’d once known, but close.
Quieter, he said, “Please, Kiva. Turn around and let me see.”
She couldn’t deny his soft, pleading voice, so she turned, baring her shoulder to him, and hearing his swift intake of breath.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, in that same quiet tone, but now it was brimming with something else: anger.
Kiva’s mouth was too dry to speak, so Ashlyn answered for her.
“I told you last night — Navok wanted to see her healing magic. When she refused, he had one of his anomalies hit her with a fireball, burning straight through to the bone. He didn’t realize she can’t heal herself. And before you ask, it happened yesterday. I had to give her Serpent’s Kiss just so we could escape last night.”
“Serpent’s Kiss?” Jaren repeated, sounding horrified. “Are you insane?
You could have killed her!”
“It was that or leave her there to marry the bastard,” Ashlyn defended.
“Since when do you care, anyway?”
The words were said as a challenge, but they prompted an icy silence, during which Kiva couldn’t bring herself to turn back around and face Jaren. She didn’t know what his reaction meant, whether his concern was out of habit, or whether some part of him did still care for her. Either way, her heart felt lighter than it had in months, until — “Galdric is awake.” Jaren shared his reason for being there, his tone now emotionless, as if Ashlyn’s question had indeed reminded him about his feelings. “He won’t talk without Kiva being present. Everyone is waiting for you both.”
Kiva spun around just in time to see Jaren disappearing through the doorway.
Ashlyn winced. “Sorry. I saw the look on his face, and I just — I thought that would go differently.”
“It’s not your fault,” Kiva said, releasing a frustrated breath. “I’m as surprised as you that he . . .” She trailed off, feeling foolish for even thinking the word “cared.”
“Love isn’t something you can turn on and off at will,” Ashlyn said gently. “From what I just witnessed, whatever Jaren once felt for you hasn’t changed, no matter how hard he might be trying to ignore it.”
“That’s what makes this so hard, though,” Kiva said, staring woefully at the empty doorway. “He’s torturing himself. No — I’m torturing him, just by being here. I’m a constant reminder of everything he’s lost.”
“I think you might not be giving him enough credit,” Ashlyn said, helping relace Kiva’s dress. “Jaren is one of the smartest people I know.
You lied to him and betrayed him, but from what I’ve heard, you also chose
him over your own family. And you didn’t stab him with the Eye of the Gods — you saved his life. He’s acting emotionally right now, but he’ll come to his senses. You’ll see.”
Kiva appreciated Ashlyn’s confidence, even if she struggled to feel the same way. And yet, as she followed the princess to the communal bathing chamber and showered quickly before donning her new clothes — leathery white armor almost identical to Ashlyn’s — she couldn’t help envisioning Jaren’s face again. Not the angry, blank expression he’d worn for most of their reunion, but the gentle, softer look he’d revealed upon seeing she was
injured.
That was her Jaren.
He was still in there.
And that, more than anything else, allowed her to hope.
