Chapter Thirteen
Galdric was waiting for them in the command center, sitting comfortably at the head of the rectangular table. His bruises had faded slightly, his hair was clean and tied back in a leather band, his beard was trimmed short and neat, and he’d been given a fresh set of clothes, making him look like an entirely new person.
The moment Kiva entered the room beside Ashlyn, Galdric’s brown eyes locked on her — as did everyone else’s.
Just like last night, Jaren, Caldon, and Eidran were all there, but to her surprise, so were Torell and Cresta, both unbound and, like Galdric, much cleaner and wearing new clothes — in black, like Jaren and Caldon and the rest of the outpost soldiers. When Kiva looked at Ashlyn in question, she just shrugged and said, “We have bigger problems to deal with right now.
We can decide their fates later.”
Kiva offered a grateful nod and moved directly toward her brother. No longer fettered by ropes, he drew her into a tight embrace, but released her immediately when she sucked in a pained breath.
“What’s wrong?” Torell asked, looking her over.
“Nothing,” Kiva said, ignoring her aggravated shoulder. “Just stiff from sleep.” She turned to Caldon before Tor could call her on her lie and asked, “Where’s Tipp?”
“He’s with Naari,” Caldon answered, causing renewed guilt to churn within Kiva. “He, uh, got up early and didn’t want to wake you.”
Now Caldon was the one who was lying, but Kiva repressed what she was feeling and focused on why they had all gathered, returning her attention to Galdric.
He was still watching her closely, so she walked toward him and took a seat at the table, with everyone else doing the same around her.
Before she could decide how to begin her questioning, Galdric spoke first.
“Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”
The words echoed around the room, causing Kiva to frown, and she wasn’t alone.
“Perhaps you’d like to expand on that,” Caldon said, seated next to Kiva and giving her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze under the table. “I suggest you start at the beginning.”
Galdric turned his soulful eyes to Torell. “Your mother never wanted to
hurt anyone. You know that.”
Tor clenched his jaw and said nothing.
“Everything you think she did, that was never her,” Galdric said, his voice begging them all to believe him. “The first time she channeled Torvin’s dark magic, she instantly knew it was a mistake, and she swore never to do it again. But then Zuleeka learned that she could use it too, and she liked how that power made her feel. She enjoyed hurting people, killing people. Tilda saw it happening, and she didn’t know what to do, so she covered for Zuleeka and took the blame, making everyone think it was her.
But every horror story you’ve heard about the Rebel Queen — it was always Zuleeka.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Ashlyn asked, resting her elbows on the table.
“It’s the truth,” Galdric said. “It’s the reason Tilda was so desperate to free Kiva from Zalindov. She risked everything by going to Navok for help.” He turned to Kiva and said, “She never meant for you to marry him — she was going to renege on the deal as soon as you were out. I swear, that was the plan.”
Like Torell, Kiva said nothing, but her heart was pounding with uncertainty.
“You’re the only one who can save your sister,” Galdric declared.
“Save her?” Ashlyn repeated, her silvery gaze narrowed.
Galdric nodded. “From herself,” he said. “Kiva’s magic can heal the darkness out of her, destroying her power entirely.”
Navok had implied something similar, but still . . . Kiva remained unconvinced.
“Tilda couldn’t do it herself,” Galdric went on, “since once a Corentine uses death magic, their healing ability becomes significantly less powerful.
Kiva was — is — the only chance Zuleeka has. The only chance we all have, should Zuleeka decide to test the limits of her magic. If you knew what she could do . . .” He shuddered visibly.
“I think we have a pretty good idea by now,” Jaren said, his expression dark.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but I doubt that,” Galdric argued.
“Zuleeka is still coming into her power. Whatever you’ve seen is nothing compared to what she’ll be able to do with more time and practice. If left unchecked, she’ll be able to bring the world to its knees — and I mean that literally.”
Kiva recalled the feeling of being trapped by Zuleeka’s power, her own body refusing to listen to her. If Galdric was telling the truth and Zuleeka’s
magic was still growing . . .
Everworld help them.
“So, according to you, Tilda went to Navok for help getting Kiva out of Zalindov, all to stop — sorry, save — Zuleeka,” Ashlyn summarized, tapping her fingernails on the table. “Why go to so much trouble? This one” — she jabbed her thumb toward Torell — “got that one” — another thumb jab toward Cresta — “out without breaking a sweat. And while that only happened because there are so many new guards after the riot that no one noticed anything awry, it still proves that there are other jailbreak options that don’t require making deals with foreign kings.”
Galdric’s face fell as he said, “Tilda wasn’t thinking clearly. The death magic wanted to be released, and she kept repressing it. But it was like holding back the tide, and when she refused to let the power leave her, it filled her up on the inside, making her sick, slowly killing her.”
Kiva’s eyes met Torell’s. The blood illness — the one that had caused their mother’s ailing health and blindness. Nanna Delora had said it was the death magic that had caused it, but Kiva had assumed that meant Tilda had been practicing the magic, not resisting it. She wanted to believe Galdric, to not despise the mother she’d once loved, but there was still so much that didn’t add up.
“You’re saying she went to Mirraven because she wasn’t thinking straight?” Jaren asked, his skepticism clear. “If that’s the case, why didn’t you stop her?”
“I tried,” Galdric said, laying his hands out before him. “I followed her, told her we had other options. But she was so far out of her mind with worry, consumed by the single thought of getting to Navok, that she attacked me. She nearly killed me.”
The bloodied cloak the rebels had found — that had been caused by Tilda, Kiva realized.
“She didn’t mean to,” Galdric said quieter. “She felt awful afterward, and she healed me as best as she could, but her healing magic wasn’t what it once was. Even so, I refused to leave her, and she refused to give up her plan, so we continued to Zadria, with me trying to talk sense into her the whole way. By the time we arrived, my wounds had become infected, and I —” He shut his eyes and admitted, “There was nothing I could do to stop her. I was unconscious when she made her deal with Navok — I only learned the extent of it when she was already on her way to Zalindov. And then I was locked in Navok’s dungeon as collateral to ensure she would return with her promised daughter.” He looked at Kiva again and shared, “Navok couldn’t go and get you himself — not then. He couldn’t risk drawing attention to what he was planning. But after everything with the Trial by Ordeal and you ending up at the River Palace and then Zuleeka’s takeover, well . . .” Galdric shrugged. “When you returned to Zalindov, he didn’t care so much about hiding his intentions.”
Silence fell as they processed his words, but then Caldon said, his tone just as skeptical as Jaren’s had been, “You sure know a lot for a man who’s been locked in a dungeon for six months.”
“Navok liked to visit me,” Galdric answered, staring at his hands. “He wanted to hear about the rebels, about Zuleeka’s magic, about a lot of things. But mostly, he wanted to talk. To gloat. It was clear he never planned on releasing me, so he felt safe telling me things I’m guessing he’s now regretting.”
Ashlyn leaned forward. “What kinds of things?”
Before Galdric could answer, a loud snort caused all eyes to turn to Cresta.
“Don’t tell me we’re believing this guy?” she asked, sounding amused.
She pointed a finger at Galdric and said, “I think you’re a clever man who has had plenty of time to come up with a version of events that makes you feel better. And from what you’ve said, you now expect us to throw Kiva at her psychotic sister, all so she can, what? Save the world?” Cresta snorted again. “She can barely keep herself alive, let alone the rest of us.” She waved a dismissive hand. “And besides, her magic isn’t working. So if you want to stop Zuleeka — save her, whatever — then you’re going to need another plan.”
Galdric’s gaze fastened on Kiva, his concern palpable. “What’s wrong with your magic?”
Kiva shifted in her seat and didn’t answer.
“How much training have you had?” Galdric pressed. Seeing her face, he added, “You have been training, haven’t you?”
“Considering she spent the last ten years hiding who she was from, oh, everyone,” Cresta said dryly, “I think it’s safe to assume the answer to that is a big fat no.” She chuckled darkly and added, “Can you imagine her swanning around the River Palace throwing her healing magic everywhere?
I’d have paid to see that.”
Kiva scowled at Cresta. “I don’t swan. I don’t even know what that means.”
“Of everything I just said, that’s what you —”
“Ladies, please,” Caldon cut Cresta off, though Kiva saw his lips twitching, and she shifted her scowl to him.
“You need to start training immediately,” Galdric said, reclaiming everyone’s attention. “Magic is like a muscle; you need to exercise it to strengthen it. And you need to be strong if you’re to survive against —”
“This has nothing to do with strengthening it,” Kiva interrupted, feeling sick at the thought of facing her sister again. “I can’t even access it at the moment. Something about it — about me — is broken.”
It was difficult to admit the truth, but if what happened with Naari last night was any indication, her problem was only getting worse.
“When was the last time you used it without issue?” Galdric asked.
Kiva wished they could have this conversation in private. “Ten weeks ago.” She didn’t mention the masquerade, only said, “I . . . used a lot of magic that day.”
“She healed me from a fatal wound,” Torell shared.
“She also healed Jaren from one a few hours later,” Caldon said, making Kiva fight to keep her eyes from drifting toward the crown prince. “And just before that, she destroyed Zuleeka’s hold on us. The entire room lit up from the power of her magic.”
“Did she just overdo it?” Ashlyn asked, frowning slightly. “Ten weeks is a long time. She should have recovered by now.”
Kiva fiddled with one of the many buckles on her outfit, uncomfortable with their collective focus being on her.
“No, that’s not it,” Galdric said, his tone thoughtful enough that Kiva looked up to find him watching her closely.
Too closely.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you.”
The ex-rebel leader’s words were soft, a statement rather than a
question.
Kiva stiffened.
“Now that you know what your magic can do, how it can be used for both good or evil, you’re terrified,” Galdric said quietly. “You’re so scared of your own power that you’re sabotaging yourself. That’s why your magic isn’t working — because you’re stopping yourself.”
A quick denial rose on Kiva’s lips. “I’m not —”
“They had to choose, you know,” Galdric said over her. “Tilda, Zuleeka — they had to actively decide to use their magic for evil. Your mother instantly regretted her decision, as I told you before. But it wasn’t something that happened to them. They made it happen.” He leaned forward and held her eyes. “You are who you decide to be, Kiva. Good or bad, it’s your decision. Your magic is a tool — you wield it, not the other way around. It can’t turn you into someone you don’t want to be. That’s not how it works.” His tone softened as he finished, “You don’t have to fear your magic. But you do need to nurture it, embrace it, strengthen it. And when you do . . . Kiva, you could change the world. Heal the world.”
Kiva was breathing too fast, painfully aware of everyone looking at her.
“I don’t want to change the world,” she said hoarsely. “I just want everyone I care about to be safe.”
The intensity didn’t leave Galdric. “They won’t be, as long as your sister stands unchallenged. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Kiva swallowed and looked down, unable to respond.
A strained pause settled upon them all, until Caldon said, his tone purposefully light, “Well, that’s something we can add to the to-do list.
Magical training for Kiva. Check.”
She didn’t have it in her to send him a grateful look, nor could she give one to Ashlyn when the princess changed the subject by saying to Galdric, “You mentioned Navok shared things with you. Did he ever talk about the anomalies he’s been collecting? And why?”
Galdric’s gaze moved from Ashlyn to Caldon to Jaren, until he seemed to come to a decision and said, “I’ve dedicated my life to seeing your
family removed from power.”
All three Vallentis royals turned rigid.
“From birth, I was raised believing a Corentine should sit on Evalon’s throne,” Galdric stated. “I never wavered, not even after I learned about Torvin’s magic turning dark. It wasn’t until I started seeing the damage for myself that I began to understand. Zuleeka’s power —” He shook his head woefully. “I was wrong. Even Tilda was wrong. We should have left well enough alone.” He looked at Torell, who was sitting frozen and pale. “You were right, that night you came to me and said we weren’t making anything better. We were the problem, you said.” Galdric’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I wish I’d listened to you.”
Kiva wasn’t sure if Torell was even breathing, but she did see Ashlyn and Jaren staring at her brother, unable to hide their surprise. Caldon just looked smug, as if silently saying I told you so to his family.
In a stronger voice, Galdric continued, speaking again to the Vallentis royals. “Something changed in me when Tilda and I went to Zadria. Once I was away from the rebel camp, I gained enough perspective to see the cost of our rebellion, the pain we were causing the people of Evalon, and I realized the price wasn’t worth it. That’s why I’m going to answer your questions about Navok — because I think we made a mistake. I made a mistake. And I want to help rectify that, if you’ll let me.”
He didn’t wait for their response, just inhaled deeply and revealed, “The anomalies — Navok has been hunting them for months, ever since he became king. They’re not as rare as people think, with their magic often being inherited from generation to generation. But they don’t like to draw attention to their numbers for fear of how they’ll be treated — or used — so they live in hiding, spread out across all of the kingdoms. Most live in secret magical communities, and when Navok became aware of those, he sent out expert trackers to locate them. He mentioned three communities to me — one in Jiirva, one in Hadris, and one in Valorn.” Galdric paused. “I don’t know how he convinces them to travel to Mirraven, whether he pays them or threatens them. But I do know he has a few hundred at his command now, all of whom have recently begun training their powers for combat. They’re his own budding magical army — and assuming they remain devoted to him, it won’t be long before he puts them into action.”
“A magical army?” Torell breathed in horror, right as Ashlyn gasped out, “A few hundred?”
The princess had estimated dozens last night, but by the sounds of it, Navok had collected significantly more than that.
Galdric’s expression was solemn. “At least.”
The number was nothing compared to the size of Evalon’s armies, but there was an immeasurable difference between a soldier armed with a sword and one armed with magic. Even Cresta looked unsettled by the news, and very little fazed her.
“Can any of them do that wind thing that brought you three here so quickly yesterday?” Caldon asked, his body tense. “We’ve been monitoring the borders closely, but if they don’t have to physically walk through them . . . Should we be preparing for an imminent attack?”
Dread churned in Kiva’s stomach, until Galdric shook his head and said, “No, windfunneling is a closely guarded family secret. I’m the only anomaly in my bloodline for generations, but my distant ancestors were air elementals, and they made sure the technique wouldn’t be forgotten. As far as I know, there’s no one else alive with the knowledge of how to do it.”
“Can it be taught?” Ashlyn asked. “This windfunneling?”
“It’ll take Navok’s anomalies a long time to figure it out, without someone instructing them. Years. Decades, even,” Galdric answered.
“Not them,” Ashlyn said. “Can it be taught — to me.”
Galdric sat back in his seat, taking a moment to decide whether his allegiances truly had shifted enough to reveal something so secretive to his once-enemy. But finally he said, “I’ve never tried to teach anyone, but we can give it a go.” He then warned, “It won’t be easy.”
“I’m not afraid of a challenge,” the princess said coolly.
Galdric opened his mouth to reply, but Jaren got in first. If he was upset that his cousin was about to learn a rare magical skill, he hid it well, but Kiva’s heart ached for him all over again.
“There’s something I still don’t understand,” he said, his golden brows scrunched. “Why did Navok agree to Tilda’s deal?” To Ashlyn, Jaren added, “You were right last night — it has to be more than just allying with the rebels, especially if he has these anomalies. Why would he agree to marry a Corentine? And why Kiva specifically, rather than Zuleeka?” His gaze narrowed as he watched Galdric, who was now squirming in his seat.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
As they all stared at the ex-rebel leader, he grew visibly distressed, until he finally lost his composure and covered his bruised face with his hands.
“I didn’t want to tell him. I swear I didn’t.” Galdric’s words were muffled by his fingers. “But he figured out I was hiding something, so he hurt me, and I —” He made a sound that was full of regret.
“Tell him what?” Ashlyn’s voice was as hard as her expression.
Galdric removed his fingers, his weathered features wretched as he answered, “About the Hand of the Gods.”
He seemed to be bracing for their reactions, but Kiva looked around the table to find puzzled faces mirroring hers.
Noting this, Galdric explained, “You know about the Eye of the Gods, how it was gifted to Sarana and had the power to take away Torvin’s magic?”
“We’re aware of it, yes,” Jaren said shortly, causing Kiva to wince and sink deeper in her chair.
“Well,” Galdric said, “the ancient gods bestowed another gift, long ago, back when Torvin was still using his magic for good. It was given to both him and Sarana when they were ruling the kingdom together.” He took a deep breath and revealed, “The Eye of the Gods destroys magic. But the Hand of the Gods creates it.”
Kiva turned as still as a statue, her eyes instantly flicking to Jaren.
“What does that mean?” Caldon demanded.
“You’ve never wondered where magic came from? How the early anomalies received their powers?” Galdric asked. “The Hand of the Gods gifted magic to people. Elemental magic, that is. I’ve never heard of anyone outside of the Corentine line having healing magic. Or death magic, for that matter. In all my research, I’ve yet to understand why that —”
“Focus,” Cresta said sharply. “Why did Navok want to know about the Hand of the Gods?”
“I’m assuming you’ve realized by now that he wants to conquer not just Evalon, but all the kingdoms in Wenderall?” Galdric asked, to which he received stiff nods in response. “That’s his goal, but there’s one thing he’s always wanted more than that. It’s another reason why he’s been gathering the anomalies — Navok is obsessed with magic. When he heard a rumor years ago that it might be possible for him to obtain his own powers, he became fixated on finding out how.” Galdric swallowed. “I told you he kept me in Zadria to ensure Tilda would return with Kiva, but that wasn’t the whole truth. He’d also learned that I come from a long line of Torvin sympathizers, with forgotten ancient knowledge having been protected and
passed on through my family. I tried — I couldn’t — He —” Galdric pulled himself together and quietly said, “He was going to kill me if I didn’t tell him what I know.”
“What do you know?” Caldon asked, sitting rigidly beside Kiva. “What did you tell him?”
“Everything,” Galdric said miserably. “That’s why he wants Kiva so badly. Because without her, the Hand won’t work. But with her, he has the potential to gain his own magic.”
“Explain that,” Jaren said, his eyes aflame. “A proper explanation this time. Everything Navok knows, we need to know.”
Galdric didn’t hesitate. “The Hand of the Gods was intended to be used by both Torvin and Sarana together, since it was a symbol of their peaceful union and the prosperity they wished not just for their kingdom, but the entirety of Wenderall. As such, it can only work by combining Vallentis magic and Corentine magic — healing magic, that is, not death magic.” His eyes locked with Kiva’s startled ones. “You’re the last remaining Corentine with healing magic. Navok needs you. He also needs Vallentis magic, but” — he waved toward the royals — “there are a few who he could use, including Princess Mirryn — sorry, Queen Mirryn — who is already working with him. But you, Kiva . . .” Galdric’s expression turned remorseful. “Navok heard from your mother that you were powerful, so initially he wanted you for that alone, especially when he learned what Zuleeka could do. But once I told him about the Hand, he wasn’t going to stop until you were his. He still won’t.”
Kiva’s heart was roaring in her chest. “What is the Hand?” Her voice tightened with dread as she added, “Does Navok already have it?”
“No, thank the gods,” Galdric said, causing everyone to relax — slightly. “It’s four rings, each representing an element, and it only works when Vallentis magic is pushed into them — one for earth, one for air, one for fire, and one for water.”
Kiva thought about the amulet she wore beneath her clothes, and how, when it was imbued with magic, it could protect her from the elements. The four rings sounded as if they had similar power-absorbing abilities, with the added benefit of gifting magic, not just protecting from it.
“Once Sarana’s magic was in the rings,” Galdric said, “Torvin wore them all at once, coaxing his own healing magic through them, focusing his power to merge with Sarana’s. That was all it took to, essentially, fuse the
elemental magic into another person.” His voice lowered. “When Torvin started using death magic, the Hand stopped working. But Sarana was concerned about him having children one day who might inherit his healing power, since she knew if they came for the rings, he’d be able to build his own magical army —”
Much like what Navok was already doing without the Hand, Kiva thought, her anxiety growing.
“— so she separated them and had her closest allies from Jiirva, Hadris, Valorn, and Arden hide them in their own kingdoms. Navok doesn’t know where they are — I told him she buried them deep in the Uninhabited North, but he sent a team to search for them, and he’ll soon discover the truth. He’s smart, and he has the resources to learn who she really gave them to, especially now that he knows what questions to ask.” He made a helpless, apologetic gesture, before finishing, “He can’t do anything until he has all four rings, each imbued with magic, and then Kiva to wield them, but still . . . it’s not an ideal situation.”
Caldon glared at him. “You think?”
“You said he needs Vallentis magic,” Ashlyn pointed out. “Mirryn can give him air and fire, but that’s all. So he doesn’t just need Kiva, he also needs us, and we won’t —”
“Oriel and Aunt Ariana.” Caldon swore. “They’re still at the River Palace. They can give him earth and water.”
Jaren clenched his jaw at the reminder that his mother and brother remained hostages in Vallenia. Kiva knew it had to be eating him up inside, but feared any comfort she might offer would only make things worse.
“It’s also possible that Sarana’s power is still in the rings,” Galdric told them. “They could be ready to go without needing any extra Vallentis
magic.”
Caldon swore again.
“So all Navok needs is to find the rings,” Torell summarized, having stayed silent for most of Galdric’s speech, “and then coerce Kiva into
helping him, and he’ll be able to —”
“I’m afraid so,” Galdric confirmed.
This time it was Jaren who cursed, before rubbing his temples and frowning down at the table. “We need to get to them first,” he said. “We can’t risk Navok having that kind of threat looming over us. He’s already powerful. With magic, he could be unstoppable.”
Before anyone could agree — or argue — Cresta started chuckling.
“I’m impressed,” she said, smirking at Jaren. “My first thought was that if we took Kiva out of the equation” — she sliced a finger across her own throat — “then there’d be no threat. But well done to you for not going there.”
“Cresta,” Torell snapped, while Kiva just shot her a disapproving look.
“What?” Cresta said. “I can’t be the only one thinking it.” To Kiva, she added, “I don’t want you dead. But you have to admit, you’re causing all kinds of problems.”
“Has no one else thought about the obvious yet?” Kiva asked, ignoring the redhead, and voicing what she’d realized the moment Galdric had mentioned what the Hand could do. “If we get the rings, then Jaren can get his magic back.”
Everyone around her stilled enough to indicate they hadn’t thought about it. The openly stunned look on Jaren’s face had Kiva’s cheeks heating, and she quickly added, “And we could also create our own magical army to defend against Navok’s. So keeping the Hand from him won’t just stop him from gaining his own power, but it’ll mean we can stop him from taking over Evalon — and Wenderall.”
There was a pause while her companions processed her words, and then Ashlyn said, “That’s a solid argument, but if we go after the Hand, it could take us weeks. Months. We’d have to travel across the continent, and then figure out where the rings are. That whole time, Zuleeka —”
“Pardon me,” Galdric interrupted, “but the rings were given to the ruling families of the kingdoms I mentioned before. Only for safekeeping, though — you merely have to ask for them back.”
“We’d still have to travel —”
“I can use my windfunneling,” Galdric offered. “We’ll need to ride part of the distance on horseback, but once we’re within a few hundred miles of each city, I can magic us the rest of the way.” He eyed Ashlyn. “If you’re a quick learner, you can, too.”
“Bold of you to assume you’re coming,” Caldon said to the ex-rebel leader.
“If you don’t want to lose weeks traveling all while Zuleeka wreaks havoc on Evalon and Navok prepares to invade with his magical army, then you need me,” Galdric stated evenly. “And I can offer guidance with Kiva’s
training, too. Don’t forget, when Navok is no longer a threat, she’ll still need to face her sister.”
The queasy feeling returned to Kiva’s stomach.
“I don’t like this,” Ashlyn said, her lips pursed. “By going after the rings, we could be playing right into Navok’s hands.”
“We most likely will be,” Jaren said, looking equally unhappy. “But would you be content doing nothing while he’s actively searching for them?
Wouldn’t it be better to have them secure in our possession? If he tries to steal them from us, we’ll be ready. We’ll be expecting it. And like Kiva said, we can use them to create our own elemental army to combat his. That alone is reason enough to risk it.”
That seemed to sway Ashlyn, but Jaren wasn’t finished.
“I’m the last person to want to leave Evalon right now,” he said in a low, pained voice. “Knowing that Zuleeka and Mirryn are on the throne, that Mother and Ori are their captives . . .” His throat bobbed. “I hate it, more than you can imagine. But I also recognize the danger Navok poses.
We need to prioritize our enemies. Once we get the rings, we can deal with him, and then we can give our undivided attention to removing Zuleeka and Mirryn from power.”
Ashlyn held his impassioned eyes, before finally nodding. “Let’s do it,” she said. “I’ll send word to the other outposts and have some of our soldiers make for Vallenia while we’re away, just in case any of Navok’s anomalies manage to slip through the border unnoticed. Eidran, can you see to that?”
Kiva jolted, having again forgotten that the stealthy man had been in the room the whole time.
“I think I’ll be more useful accompanying you,” he countered in a soothing rumble. “We still have questions about the anomalies. Galdric said he knows of magical communities in three of the kingdoms you’re traveling to — while you’re collecting the rings, I can seek them out and try to
uncover some answers.”
“Smart,” Jaren said quietly.
“Good point,” Ashlyn agreed, before rising to her feet. “Windfunneling or not, we don’t have any time to waste. Take the rest of the day to prepare, and then first thing tomorrow, we’ll set out.”
“We, who?” Cresta asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m a free woman now.
I have things to do, places to see, people to —”
“You’re coming with us,” Ashlyn said. Her eyes speared toward Torell.
“You too. Neither of you are going anywhere until all this is over and I can figure out what to do with you.”
“I wouldn’t leave Kiva anyway,” Tor said.
“I would,” Cresta grumbled, but Kiva could see the lie written on her face. Despite herself, Cresta was intrigued, maybe even excited to be included in their plans.
The group dispersed shortly after that, with Ashlyn heading off to send word to her military leaders, but only after ordering Tor, Cresta, and Galdric to help Eidran gather supplies for their journey — not so subtly indicating that she wanted them to remain under the guard’s watchful eyes.
Once they were gone, Jaren departed as well, leaving Kiva alone with Caldon. She stared longingly at his retreating back as he exited the command center, disappointed that he hadn’t thawed toward her even after learning that the Hand could return his magic. Nevertheless, the concern she’d seen from him earlier that morning remained with her, continuing to give her hope.
Everything will be all right, Kiva told herself as she agreed to help Caldon pack and followed him out into the summer sunshine. We’ll find the rings, Jaren will get his magic back, we’ll stop Navok, and then Zuleeka and I will — Kiva’s thoughts came to a screeching halt when she caught sight of Tipp standing just outside the command center doorway, talking with Jaren.
Their heads were bent together, Tipp was wearing a gap-toothed smile, and Jaren was grinning back at him, his expression lighter than anything she’d seen since they’d been reunited, causing her heart to skip a beat. Jaren used to grin at her like that all the time, but now . . .
Gods, she missed him.
But she focused on Tipp, who had just noticed her, the smile falling from his face.
“Maybe you shouldn’t —” Caldon murmured under his breath, but Kiva moved forward before he could finish.
She barely made it two steps before Tipp spun on his heel and stalked away.
Kiva froze, wanting to call out but fearing he would ignore her. Certain he would ignore her.
“Tipp,” she whispered, staring after him, her eyes welling.
A slight movement made her look from his shrinking figure back to Jaren, who was still standing there, watching her closely. For a second, she thought she saw a flash of pity in his blue-gold gaze, before it was gone again in an instant.
And then so was he, taking off after Tipp and not looking back.
