Chapter Fourteen
That night, Kiva found herself in the infirmary again.
It was after midnight, but she couldn’t sleep — partly because she was anxious about the journey they were about to undertake, but mostly because she couldn’t stop thinking about her encounter with Tipp earlier that day.
He’d avoided her completely in the hours since then, had even relocated to Jaren’s room that evening because he knew she wouldn’t venture there. He was doing everything he could to stay away from her, and while she understood, it still hurt. If only he would allow her to speak with him, to explain . . .
Kiva sighed and pulled back the curtain to Naari’s bed, finding the guard looking exactly as she had the previous night.
For a long moment, Kiva did nothing, just stared down at her friend and the dark shadows swirling around her. But then she reached out and linked their fingers together.
“Galdric’s right,” Kiva said quietly. “I am scared of my magic. I’m scared of myself.” She exhaled and admitted, “But I’m more scared of losing anyone else who I care about.” She squeezed the guard’s hand. “I need you back, Naari. We need you back.”
Her words didn’t pull Naari from her unnatural slumber, but she hadn’t come to the infirmary just to talk to her friend.
You are who you decide to be, Kiva, Galdric had told her that morning.
Good or bad, it’s your decision.
As anxious as she was about what her magic could do and who she might become, right now, Kiva knew herself. She’d been through hell to get to where she was, suffered more in ten years — even in ten weeks — than many people did in an entire lifetime. There was no part of her that was tempted to even consider using her power for evil.
Kiva had made mistakes. Terrible, awful, life-ruining mistakes. But for better or worse, she’d always done what she thought was right. Her magic didn’t define who she was, nor did it have the power to decide her fate.
Tilda had chosen to embrace death magic, however briefly. Zuleeka had chosen the same dark path. But that wasn’t Kiva’s choice — and it never would be.
You’re different from them, her grandmother had said, just before she’d died. The light to their darkness.
Standing there, looking down at Naari, Kiva felt something settle within her. Her magic was a gift, not a weapon. She had no reason to fear it; it was a part of her, as real and as life-giving as the very blood in her veins. She decided what to do with it, no one else.
And she was determined to use it for good.
Past, present, and future — she would always use it for good.
Starting right now.
Inhaling deeply, Kiva tightened her grip on Naari and closed her eyes, calling to the magic in her blood. She didn’t allow her mind to wander down the path of fear, refusing to give power to the darkness of possibility.
Whispering to herself, Kiva chanted, “I am good. I am in control. And I am not afraid.”
She’d thought it would be difficult, that she would have to fight for it and wrestle it into submission, but it was as if her magic had been waiting for her to finally summon it, to embrace it, to accept it. Almost immediately, her fingers began to tingle and warmth flooded her veins, right before golden light seared through her closed eyelids as her power flowed out in gentle, healing waves.
Kiva nearly wept at the feeling coursing through her, the purity of her magic, the goodness of it. It wasn’t evil — she wasn’t evil.
A half sob, half laugh left her as she willed her power to destroy Zuleeka’s shadows and release their hold on Naari.
The guard’s fingers twitched.
Kiva jumped and opened her eyes just in time to see her healing light fade — taking with it any trace of the death magic.
Zuleeka’s shadows were gone.
Kiva had done it. It hadn’t even been hard. She’d just had to believe in herself — to not be afraid of herself.
“Naari?” Kiva whispered, swaying slightly, having forgotten how exhausted she always felt after using her magic. “Naari, it’s Kiva. Can you
—”
Amber eyes shot open.
In an impossibly fast move, Naari launched herself out of bed and tackled Kiva, the two of them tumbling to the ground, the sheets tangling around their legs, the curtains tearing and falling down on top of them.
“What are you —” Kiva gasped out, but that was all she managed before the guard’s fingers wrapped around her throat.
Kiva had a single moment to panic before Naari’s weight was suddenly gone, her hands ripped from Kiva’s neck as she was hauled upward and
away.
“Naari, stop!”
If Kiva hadn’t already been incapacitated by fear, she would have frozen at the sound of Jaren’s commanding voice. Through the darkened infirmary, she could see him wrestling with Naari, trying to contain her.
“Let me go!” Naari snarled. “Her sister is the Viper! She’s a Corentine!
She —”
“Stop!” Jaren repeated, more firmly. “I know. We know. Just stop, and I’ll explain.”
At his words, the fight left Naari, even if her body remained locked with tension, her eyes wild. But then she came back to herself enough to glance around, confusion shifting across her features.
“Are we at Silverthorn?” she asked, taking in the rows of empty infirmary beds.
Kiva, still on the ground, looked at Jaren and demanded, “Did you follow me here?”
“Of course I did,” he said instantly. “Do you really think I trust you to
wander around the base alone at night?”
“Base?” Naari asked. “What base?”
But Kiva didn’t hear Jaren’s reply over her sudden hurt. It was irrational to be so upset by his words, given everything. But the pain she felt couldn’t be denied.
“What the hell is going on in here?” came Caldon’s voice from the entrance to the infirmary. He squinted through the dark and strode quickly toward them. “The racket you’re making is waking half the —”
He broke off when he was close enough to see them more clearly, Jaren still restraining the no longer comatose Naari, Kiva tangled in fabric on the floor.
“Ah,” he said. “Never mind.” He moved straight to Kiva and pulled her up to her feet, before turning to the guard, relief clear on his face.
“Welcome back, Naari.”
“Back?” Her tone was threatening as she growled, “Someone had better start talking, or I’ll —”
Jaren said something to her then, too low for Kiva to hear, before he released his hold and began to lead her from the infirmary.
Unlike earlier that day with Tipp, this time he did look back, his eyes meeting Kiva’s.
“Thank you,” he said, his gratitude quiet but sincere.
Despite still feeling stung by his unyielding resentment, those two words — and the way he said them — meant everything to Kiva.
“Nice work, Sunshine,” Caldon murmured as Jaren and Naari disappeared out the door. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into a side hug. “I know this is hard. But it’ll get better. I promise.”
The next morning, it became clear that Caldon’s promise wouldn’t be coming true anytime soon.
As planned, their group rose early to set out for Jiirva, ten of them in total: Jaren, Caldon, Naari, Tipp, Cresta, Torell, Galdric, and Ashlyn, along with the eerily quiet Eidran, and then Kiva herself. Ashlyn had frowned when she’d arrived to see them all mounted on Stoneforge horses, declaring that if they wanted to avoid attention, they needed to cull the group. But Tipp refused to leave Jaren and Caldon, and Ashlyn herself still refused to let Torell and Cresta out of her sight. Naari, now aware of everything that had happened since the masquerade, was glued to Jaren’s side, Galdric was needed to speed up their travel time, and Kiva was the only one who could use the Hand once they had all four rings. After wasting precious minutes arguing about it, Ashlyn had compromised by saying the group would split up at each destination — half going for the rings, and half going with Eidran to the anomaly communities.
She didn’t say who would be in each group, but everyone agreed, and they finally began their journey.
With Jiirva’s capital city, Yirin, sitting at the northwest tip of Wenderall, the plan was to cross into Mirraven before cutting directly into Caramor, aiming to make it before the injured Prince Voshell sent word to close the borders. When they were near enough to their destination, Galdric would windfunnel them the rest of the way, but it would still require a week on horseback before they reached that point. Kiva wasn’t thrilled by that, and
not just because her dappled gray mount, Zephyr, seemed to like her about as much as Jaren, Naari, and Tipp did.
“They have a reason to hate me,” she muttered to the gelding as he angled his neck and tried to take a chunk out of her leg. “I gave you an apple, you miserable beast.”
Aside from her nipping horse, the first few hours of riding weren’t awful. The temperature was mild, the sky was clear, and there was a general feeling of anticipation in the air. Tipp was bouncing around on the pony Eidran had found him in the military stables, deliriously excited about their adventure — at least until Kiva tried to approach him, at which point he shut down all emotion. He still hadn’t said anything to her, and every time she moved Zephyr close, he kicked his pony forward and acted like she didn’t exist.
Like Tipp, Jaren and Naari were also giving Kiva the cold shoulder, which, while expected, still made for an uncomfortable ride. Caldon tried to keep her spirits high, but he was dealing with his own demons, being so close to his sister, and once they crossed into Mirraven, he rode ahead with Cresta to scout for patrolling Gray Guards.
“Three years later, and he still can’t stand to be near me,” Ashlyn said morosely, riding at Kiva’s side. “It’s not like I killed our parents.”
Kiva wanted to comfort the princess, but the only advice she had was what everyone kept telling her: “Just give him time.”
The hours continued to pass, with their group maintaining a good travel speed. After a quick break for lunch, Kiva found herself riding beside Torell, and while she was aware that their privacy was limited, she was worried enough about how quiet and introspective he’d been all day that she asked, “Everything all right?”
His gaze flicked to her and away again, before he gave a terse nod.
It was obvious he didn’t want to talk, but Kiva was alarmed by the serious set of his features, and the dull, pained look in his emerald eyes.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” she tried, stopping Zephyr from snapping his teeth at Tor’s horse. “I know you didn’t have a choice, but —”
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Tor said, his face softening as he glanced at her again, but his eyes remained haunted.
She nudged her mount closer and lowered her voice to say, “You can talk to me, Tor. I know something is upsetting you.” She took a risk and guessed, “If it’s about Zuleeka —”
“I don’t want to talk about Zuleeka.”
The words were sharp. And bitter.
Carefully, Kiva said, “I think maybe you should. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but —”
“You’re right, you can’t,” he said, his knuckles tensing around his reins.
Kiva refused to leave it at that. They might have been separated for ten years, but before that, Torell had always been there for her — not just as her brother, but as her friend. Even after they’d been reunited, he’d repeatedly put her welfare above his own, to the point that he’d almost lost his life protecting her.
But she didn’t need protection from him. And she wasn’t willing to let him bottle up everything he was feeling until it festered, just so he could keep her from being burdened by his own heartache.
“She stabbed you, Tor,” Kiva said quietly. “And she was going to attack you with her death magic — which you never even knew about. I know that
has to be weighing on you.”
“Kiva, I said I don’t want to —”
“I don’t care what you said,” she told him firmly. “You can ignore me all you want, but we’re stuck together for the foreseeable future, and one way or another, we’re going to have this conversation. My preference is now, but if you —”
“She nearly killed me, Kiva,” Tor burst out, turning to her with a ravaged expression. “Our sister — our own flesh and blood. For years, she’s been murdering people, and I had no idea. She lied to me for over a decade — how do you think that makes me feel? How ashamed I am? How guilty I am? Their blood might as well be on my hands.”
“Tor,” Kiva whispered.
“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault. I should have known — I should have stopped her. If I had, none of this would have happened. And maybe Mother —” He broke off, but not quickly enough to hide his agony.
Kiva knew what he’d been about to say: Maybe Mother would still be alive.
“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, moving as close as Zephyr would allow. “Zuleeka kept her power hidden for a reason — she didn’t want you to know. So while I understand wanting to blame yourself” — that was an understatement, given her own torturous feelings — “you’re not responsible
for anything she did. And as for Mother . . .” Kiva made sure she had Tor’s full attention before she went on, “The moment she used death magic for the first time, that was the beginning of the end for her. There’s nothing you
could have done.”
“But I —”
“No buts,” Kiva said. “What you’re feeling is valid, but it’s also wrong.” Her voice gentled as she said, “You’re a good person, Tor. And if you don’t believe me, answer this: if you could have kept Zuleeka from hurting anyone, would you have?”
Tor looked incredulous. “Of course! I already said I —”
“Then instead of feeling guilt and shame,” Kiva spoke over him, “hold on to that. Because more than anything else, that reveals your integrity — and your heart.”
Torell opened his mouth, but then closed it again, his expression thoughtful as he considered Kiva’s words. Finally, he admitted, “Maybe you were right.”
“I often am,” Kiva said. “But about what, specifically?”
“I needed to talk about this,” Tor said. “Even if I didn’t want to.”
“Hard conversations are never easy,” Kiva said.
Tor snorted. “That’s a terrible sentence.”
Kiva was relieved to see his humor, weak as it was.
But then Tor sobered and said, “It’s going to take time to reconcile how I feel, but I promise I’ll try. And I don’t know what it says about me, but it helps knowing Zuleeka’s going to pay for what she’s done. She might be our sister, but actions have consequences, and one day soon she’s going to learn that.”
His voice was so hard toward the end that Kiva shivered, remembering that there was a reason he was the rebel general, and it wasn’t because of his friendly demeanor.
Thinking it best to change the topic, Kiva said, “Is anything else on your mind?” She then added, “I haven’t had the chance to ask how you feel about Galdric being, well, alive.”
Tor’s gaze shifted to the man in question, who was riding far enough ahead to be out of hearing range. “Honestly? I’m not sure what to feel.”
“You were close, once, weren’t you?”
“I thought so,” Tor answered. “But since he was also lying to me that whole time, he’s not my favorite person right now. If he’d told me about
Zuleeka’s magic years ago, then —” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I can’t change the past. But I can still be annoyed by it.”
“That’s a life motto right there,” Kiva said dryly.
Tor’s lips tipped up. But then he asked, “How are you feeling about everything? Zalindov? Navok? Zuleeka?” Tentatively, he added, “Jaren?”
Kiva froze, not having expected him to turn the questioning on her. “I’m —”
She was saved from answering — and lying — by the return of Caldon and Cresta, who warned about a nearby patrol and suggested they take a break until the Gray Guards moved on.
When it was safe to continue, Kiva quickly positioned Zephyr until she was beside Eidran, praying her brother would forget that she’d never responded to his questions. When Ashlyn engaged Torell in conversation and rode forward with him, Kiva loosed a relieved breath. Eidran looked at her strangely, but said nothing — and continued saying nothing as the hours passed, his presence calming and steadfast, his companionable silence leaving her feeling more content than she’d been in a long time. It didn’t matter that her backside started to ache and her muscles were stiffening up — she almost began to enjoy the scenery from her peaceful place beside him.
But then the landscape began to change as they traveled deeper into the craggy gray wasteland of southern Mirraven, making Kiva shudder as she remembered her recent journey north. They wouldn’t be venturing anywhere near Zadria this time, but still, when she closed her eyes, she could see Navok’s handsome face . . . and she could feel his fist slamming into her cheek. It barely hurt anymore, the Serpent’s Kiss lingering in her system enough to continue accelerating her healing. Even her shoulder only smarted a little toward the end of the day’s ride, which was significantly better than Kiva had feared.
The first night sleeping out in the open was unpleasant, the ground hard, the Mirraven air chilly despite the fire Caldon kept ablaze with his magic.
The canvas shelters they’d brought remained in their packs, with Ashlyn deciding they wouldn’t waste time setting up a full camp unless the weather required it. That left them all attempting to find a place around the fire where the rocky earth didn’t dig painfully into their travel-sore bodies.
Riding all day had left Kiva exhausted, but after a quick meal of bread, cheese, and dried meats, she wasn’t able to fall sleep as swiftly as those
around her. It wasn’t just that every pebble beneath her felt like a boulder, or that Galdric snored loud enough to wake the dead. It was that Jaren was barely five feet away. The last time they’d slept so close — closer, even — had been the night she’d fallen asleep in his arms after Queen Ariana’s magical attack. That felt like a lifetime ago now.
Unable to quiet her mind, when Kiva finally managed to drift off, she was plagued by nightmares. She was back at Zalindov. Navok was ordering Xuru to attack her. Zuleeka’s shadows were choking her. The dreams continued all night, disturbing her sleep and causing her to jolt violently awake when someone shook her shoulder.
“It’s dawn,” Caldon said, tugging her blanket away.
“’S time t’go?” she slurred, squinting blearily up at him.
“Not yet,” Caldon answered over the snores still echoing around them.
“It’s training time, Sunshine.”
Kiva groaned and tried to reclaim her blanket, but he tossed it out of reach.
“Up,” he ordered, throwing some fresh clothes at her. “You’ve got five minutes.”
Kiva didn’t want to hate one of the few people who could still stand being around her, but Caldon made it difficult for her not to wish all kinds of unpleasantness upon him. She called him every foul name she could think of under her breath as she stumbled down to the stream they’d camped near, and it was only after she’d splashed frigid water on her face and changed into another of Ashlyn’s leathery outfits that she finally felt human enough to remember why she needed to train.
Heading back to camp, it took her a moment to spot Caldon standing beyond the makeshift corral they’d set up to contain their mounts overnight.
As she rounded the pen and the horses dozing within, she noticed he wasn’t alone: Jaren, Naari, and Eidran were already sparring together, and, to Kiva’s surprise, Torell was also there, facing off against Ashlyn.
It was easy for her to forget she was traveling with a group of veritable warriors. Royals, guards, generals, spies — her companions had spent years honing their bodies into weapons. Watching them practice unarmed combat was just as awe-inspiring as it was to witness them crossing blades. Even her brother had been given a sword, with it glinting in the weak early light as he and Ashlyn sparred at an alarming pace.
“I suppose it’s too much to assume you kept up with your exercises while you were in Zalindov?” Caldon asked, his arms crossed as he looked from the fighters to Kiva.
“She did,” came Cresta’s yawning voice as she approached. “And I joined her. So I’ll be joining you today, too.”
“I thought I was training my magic?” Kiva asked before Caldon could protest Cresta’s declaration.
“You’re doing both,” he said. “Magic requires strength, and strength requires endurance. Being physically fit will give you more energy and make you more powerful.” He shrugged, then admitted, “That’s how it works for elemental magic. I’m winging it with healing magic.”
Kiva glanced back at the camp, where Galdric and Tipp still slept.
“Maybe we should wait until —”
“Start stretching, Sweet Cheeks,” Caldon said, before eyeing Cresta.
“You too.”
“What, no degrading nickname for me?” Cresta asked, batting her eyelashes.
“I don’t think you want to hear my name for you,” Caldon replied, turning and striding toward Jaren, Naari, and Eidran.
A flare of interest hit Cresta’s hazel eyes, and Kiva groaned inwardly, but the redhead locked it down as Caldon returned with the sweaty Eidran.
“Have you had any combat training?” the spy asked Cresta, studying
her solid build with a critical eye.
“Some,” she answered.
Kiva snorted, thinking of the fights the ex-quarrier had caused at Zalindov and doubting they counted.
But Cresta shocked the humor right out of Kiva when Caldon threw an assessing punch at her. Instead of ending up with a bruised sternum, Cresta darted to the side and grabbed his outstretched hand, yanking him forward while angling her boot behind his knee. It took some quick footwork on his part to escape her hold without toppling to the ground, after which he sent her an impressed grin and said, “Nice,” before jerking his chin at Eidran.
“Let’s go see what else you can do,” the spy told her, leading the way toward an open area beyond the sparring pairs.
“Five years, and someone can still find ways to surprise you,” Kiva mused, watching them walk off.
“She moves like a fighter,” Caldon said. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Kiva tried to remember everything Cresta had shared about her life before Zalindov, but she’d said nothing about having had any physical training. Although . . . she and her mother had traveled alone after losing their family, surviving day by day, so it made sense that she would have learned some self-defense moves.
“I don’t see you stretching,” Caldon said pointedly.
Kiva quickly began to loosen her muscles, after which he tested her fitness levels. By the time she was sweating and cursing at him, he acknowledged that she’d made at least some improvement from when they’d first started training at the River Palace.
“Small steps are still steps,” he said sagely.
But when it came to strengthening her magic, they hit a rock wall.
“I don’t understand why you’re struggling with this,” Caldon said after nearly half an hour of Kiva trying to summon her power. “I thought you said you’re not afraid of yourself anymore?”
“I’m not,” Kiva said. Everyone else had finished sparring, and while Eidran and Torell had gone to help pack up the camp, Jaren, Naari, Ashlyn, and Cresta were still cooling down and drinking water from leather skins, watching her fail over and over again. “Or — I don’t know. I probably always will be, in the back of my mind, but that’s not what’s stopping me
now.”
“Then what is?” Caldon asked.
“You just told me to wave my hand and ‘do the shiny thing.’ That’s not how it works,” Kiva said, exasperated. “It’s not like your fire magic where you can throw it around or whatever you do.”
“Then what is it like?” Caldon pressed. “How does it work?”
Kiva threw out her arms. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need training, would I?”
Caldon scowled at her, and she scowled right back.
“I’m sorry to add to the pressure,” said Galdric, who had joined them mid-training as soon as he’d awoken. He’d just begun explaining the basics of windfunneling to Ashlyn before Kiva’s lack of progress had caught all their attention. “But Prince Caldon is right — you should be able to throw your power in a similar manner to elemental magic. That’s what Tilda learned to do with her healing magic. And that’s what Zuleeka can do with her death magic, as you’ve seen for yourself. There’s no reason why the same isn’t true for you.”
Kiva transferred her scowl to him. “Telling me what I should be able to do and telling me how to do it are two very different things. So far, I’m hearing a lot of the former, and none of the latter.” Her glare shifted back to Caldon. “From everyone.”
The prince’s lips twitched. “You’re delightful when you’re cranky.”
“I’m not cranky,” Kiva said, barely keeping from stomping her foot. “I just have no idea what I’m doing, and you’re not helping to change that.”
“I —”
“For everworld’s sake,” Cresta cut Caldon off, causing everyone to look toward where she sat on a boulder beside Jaren. Before they could blink, she picked up the sword she’d been sparring with — And stabbed it straight into Jaren’s thigh.
He roared with pain, and then three things happened at once: The first was that Naari and Ashlyn both tackled Cresta, while Cresta yelled at Caldon, “Hold her back!”
The second was that Caldon wrapped his arms around Kiva like steel bands, stopping her from rushing to Jaren’s side.
The third was that, seeing the blood gushing from Jaren’s leg, seeing his pain, feeling his pain, Kiva didn’t think, she just acted. Magic erupted out of her and shot toward him, like a blinding comet streaking through the distance between them. Caldon hissed a shocked expletive into her ear, and even Naari, Ashlyn, and Cresta paused their scuffle to watch.
It was over in seconds, the light fading as quickly as it had come, the wound gone as if it had never existed, leaving behind wet bloodstains on black leather and a stunned but otherwise perfectly healthy Jaren.
“See?” Cresta said cockily, despite being on the ground with both Naari and Ashlyn holding her down. “She just needed the right motivation.”
Kiva turned furious eyes on the redhead. “What the hell was that?”
“You’re welcome,” was Cresta’s only reply, her eyes lit with humor.
“There’s something very wrong with you,” Kiva snapped. She then turned to Caldon, just as furious. “And you — why did you hold me back?”
“Because I figured out what she was doing,” he said, shameless. “And she was right. You needed motivation.”
Kiva’s blood was boiling. She got right in Caldon’s face and demanded, “Is that how this is going to work? You’ll use how I feel about Jaren against me and hurt him every time you want me to use magic? Hasn’t he suffered enough because of me?”
She was breathing heavily, emotion coursing through her veins, and that was why it took her a moment to realize what she’d just said — and who had heard.
Unable to meet his eyes, Kiva turned woodenly toward Jaren and, staring at his bloodied leg, choked out, “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer for so long that she was forced to look up at his face, only to find an unreadable emotion in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” he eventually said.
Hearing that, Kiva felt relief, along with enough mortification and residual anger that she nodded tersely and strode away.
She didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day.
