Chapter Seventeen
Kiva had no idea how she made it through the feast that night.
The hours passed in a blur of bright colors and upbeat music, of spicy foods and boisterous laughter. The kings were in their element, hosting hundreds of their peers in the palace’s massive banquet hall, which was lined with food-laden tables and decorated with strings of luminium lights overhead, like a starry expanse twinkling across the high ceiling.
As the guests of honor, Kiva and her friends were seated with the twins and their Royal Council at the head table. They’d all managed to bathe before their guard escort had arrived, with no traces of travel grime or arena blood left to be seen — even if Kiva still felt as if it stained her hands. The outfits they’d been given were spotless, with Ashlyn, Cresta, Naari, and Kiva all wearing billowing long skirts and floaty off-the-shoulder tops, while Jaren, Caldon, and Tipp wore trousers and open-collared shirts made of a thin flaxen material. Tipp’s clothes were bright orange, which clashed terribly with his hair, but Caldon’s were an attractive forest green, and Jaren’s were a deep navy, which had effectively stolen Kiva’s breath when she’d first seen him. She herself was dressed in an attention-grabbing turquoise, but every time she felt self-conscious, she only had to look at Cresta scowling in her bright pink outfit to realize she could have been allocated something much worse.
When finally — finally — the kings stood and quieted their guests, Kiva nearly wept, because without further ado, they handed a small leather pouch to Jaren. Thembi raised his chalice and gave a congratulatory speech, but Kiva didn’t hear him, her focus solely on Jaren as he opened the pouch to reveal a gold ring topped with an obnoxiously large ruby.
The fire ring.
One down, three to go, Kiva thought, overwhelmed by all that was still ahead. But she reminded herself of why they were doing this: to stop Navok from possessing the Hand of the Gods and growing his magical army. And more selfishly — at least to Kiva — to get Jaren back his elemental powers.
Because maybe then he would be able to forgive her.
The rest of the feast sped by, but Kiva was on edge now that they had the ring, eager to leave and seek out the other three. She knew her friends felt the same, with Jaren, Ashlyn, and Caldon having even more reason to want to keep moving, given that their entire kingdom — and family — was currently in the hands of a psychopath. But there was nothing they could do about Zuleeka from Yirin — or Navok, for that matter — and wisdom warned that only fools would begin a journey through the harsh Jiirvan desert at night. Their departure would have to wait until morning, even if their patience was wearing thin.
When the kings finally declared the feast over, Kiva was relieved to be quickly escorted back to their quarters — and even more relieved to find Torell, Eidran, and Galdric seated on the cushions and waiting for them.
“About time you showed up,” Caldon said, dropping beside them and stretching his long legs out. “How did it go with the anomalies?”
Eidran kicked Caldon’s feet away. “It didn’t.”
The spy wasn’t known for being verbose, so Kiva looked to her brother for more information.
“We found the village,” Torell shared, “but no one would speak with us.
They wouldn’t even come near us. It was like we had the plague.”
“We didn’t see any magic, either,” Galdric said, looking dispirited. “If there were any anomalies left, they were careful to hide their powers.”
“They were terrified of us,” Eidran said, running his fingers through his short dark hair. “We’d hoped to learn how Navok had convinced them to join him, but given our reception . . . the evidence is pointing to them being coerced in some way.”
Galdric looked from the spy to the Vallentis royals and said, “There are still two more settlements that I know of, in Hadris and Valorn. Maybe we’ll have more luck with those.”
Kiva hoped so. Knowing Navok’s plans and what was motivating his magical followers would go a long way in helping them strategize their next steps to protect Evalon — and Wenderall.
“What about you? Did you get the ring?” Torell asked, eyeing their well-dressed group.
In answer, Jaren stepped forward and reopened the leather pouch. He didn’t mention how they’d earned it, and Kiva was grateful. If her brother learned what they’d done in the arena — what she’d done — he would recognize the turmoil brewing within her. As it was, she’d barely been able
to touch her dinner, her stomach queasy from the golden warrior’s face repeatedly coming to her mind. She’d thought taking some time away from everyone that afternoon would help her process and move on, but if anything, she only felt more guilty.
A woman was dead. Six women were dead. How was she supposed to act as if that hadn’t happened? Ashlyn, Cresta, and Naari seemed unaffected, but Kiva . . . She still didn’t know how to reconcile all she was feeling.
“That’s some rock,” Torell said, leaning in from his reclined position for a closer look.
As Galdric and Eidran did the same, Kiva took a seat beside Caldon, with Tipp coming to sit with her. He was near enough that Tor sent her a surprised look, but then his expression warmed as he realized the young boy was no longer ignoring her. That warmth quickly turned to curiosity, but Kiva shook her head, not wanting to get into it. For so many reasons.
Seconds after joining her, Tipp rested his head on Kiva’s shoulder and fiddled sleepily with the beading on her turquoise outfit, the events of the day — and their long travel hours — leaving him barely able to keep his eyes open.
She was just about to suggest they all head to bed, when Cresta approached Jaren and asked, “How do we know if Sarana’s magic is already in it?”
All eyes turned to the ruby as if it would yield an answer. Kiva thought about the amulet she still wore and how the gemstones had glowed when Jaren sent his magic into them, before they’d faded back to normal. She was tempted to pull the crest from beneath her top and see how it compared to the ring, but she stilled her hand at the last moment. There had been so many times on their journey that she’d considered returning it to Jaren, but cowardice had stopped her, fearing what he might say — and what he might remember. The amulet had protected her, but it had also protected Zuleeka, keeping her safe from Jaren’s magic and ultimately leading to his ruin.
Because of that, Kiva had tried to keep it out of sight for his sake, but there had been a few moments during her vigorous morning exercises when it had bounced free of her clothes. During those times, she’d seen Jaren look at it, before clenching his jaw and turning away, proving she was right in trying to keep it hidden.
Now that she was thinking about it, Kiva almost felt as if the amulet was burning against her chest, but she resisted the urge to draw attention to it. She did, however, wonder if perhaps the ring was similar in that it would glow only when magic was pushed into it, not the rest of the time.
Seeming to be of the same mind as Kiva, Jaren finally answered, “There’s no way to know for sure.” He handed the pouch to Caldon. “Better safe than sorry.”
Caldon looked from the ring to his cousin and back again. “Shouldn’t we wait until we have all four?”
It was Galdric who answered, “If something happens and we’re separated, it’s smarter to have it ready for use, especially if Sarana’s power isn’t already imbued in it. Between you” — he nodded toward Caldon — “and the princess” — a nod toward Ashlyn this time — “you command three of the four elements. If you send your fire magic into it now, it leaves less room for chance when the time comes for Kiva to wield the full Hand.”
Butterflies fluttered in Kiva’s middle at the pressure of what she alone would have to do, but her attention was diverted when Caldon accepted Galdric’s reasoning and fished the ring out of the pouch. He touched his finger to the red gemstone, a rare look of concentration on his face.
Instantly, the ruby began to glow, pulling Kiva back to the night when Jaren had gifted her the amulet, right after his mother’s attack. As the glow faded from the ring, she wondered if he was also remembering that tender moment between them. There was a stiffness in his frame that made her think he might have been, particularly since he seemed determined to avoid her eyes.
Once the ruby was no longer alight, Caldon placed the ring back in the pouch and returned it to Jaren, who tucked it away for safekeeping.
“That was anticlimactic,” Cresta said.
“After today, do you really need more excitement?” Caldon asked, incredulous.
“That depends on the kind of excitement,” Cresta shot back, along with a suggestive wink that prompted a surprised but undeniably wicked grin from him.
Kiva groaned and was tempted to tell them to keep ten feet apart, but before she could, Torell spoke.
“What happened today?” he asked, sitting up straighter, his brow furrowing in concern.
“Nothing,” Kiva answered quickly, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Thembi and Ryuu are just drama queens. Drama kings, even.” She attempted a laugh, but it was forced and panicked. Thank the gods for Tipp who, at that exact moment, revealed he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder by uttering a loud snuffle-snore.
“It’s been a long day, for all of us,” Ashlyn said, quiet enough not wake him. “Given how much the kings imbibed tonight, we should be able to sneak away before they awaken. But we should also aim to leave early, just in case.”
They set a plan, agreeing to meet in the common room at dawn to begin their journey to Hadris. Kiva was just about to ask someone to help her move Tipp to a bed, but Jaren was already striding toward her and reaching down for the boy. His hand grazed Kiva’s waist as he sought to get a secure grip, their eyes meeting for a split second. Even knowing his touch was accidental, she felt the world stop as they stared at each other, but then he glanced away, a muscle bunching in his cheek. He then lifted Tipp with ease and carried him away, not looking back.
Kiva’s heart was racing and her face was warm. Aware of everyone looking at her, she quickly cleared her throat before bidding them a good night, almost running to the safety of her bedroom.
But as soon as she was alone, her thoughts invaded. Even after changing into a Jiirvan nightgown and crawling into bed, she couldn’t settle her mind enough to sleep, despite knowing she needed to rest before their early departure.
Tossing and turning, Kiva finally gave up and headed over to her window, drawing back the curtains to look out at the luminium-lit city. The giant statues caught her eyes, their fighting poses reminding her all too much of the women in the arena, the golden warrior’s face now permanently embedded into her thoughts.
A quiet knock had Kiva turning toward the door. For one heart-stopping moment, she wondered if it was Jaren, before remembering that the days of him coming to comfort her were long gone.
Instead, the person who opened the door surprised Kiva almost as much — because it was Naari.
The guard said nothing after letting herself into the room, but she walked straight to Kiva’s side, the two of them staring silently out at the
city. Kiva didn’t know what to think, her pulse skittering as the minutes trickled by. But then Naari spoke.
“The first time I killed someone, I vomited for hours afterward.”
Kiva turned woodenly to the guard.
“I was chosen by the Rakavan when I was ten years old,” Naari continued. “It meant so much to my family, and at that age, all I wanted was to please them, so I accepted the invitation to begin training. I showed enough promise that I was brought here, to Yirin. At fifteen, during my first arena battle, I killed two girls, both friends who I’d trained beside for years.”
Kiva’s heart clenched. She balled her hands to keep from reaching out and offering comfort, still unsure where she and the guard stood.
“Kill or be killed — that’s what I told you today,” Naari said quietly.
“That’s how I lived, day after day, every time I entered that arena and had to face someone I cared about, seeing the same resolution in their eyes as they tried to strike me down first, all for riches and glory and — and honor.”
The word came out broken. Naari hugged her elbows, lost in memory.
“It was destroying me — I could feel it. I couldn’t stomach the thought of nominating for the Arzavaar, not after everything they’d taken from me.
Everything I’d given them. But I also knew I wouldn’t survive much longer.
I was strong. I was fast. I was good at killing people. But . . . seeing the life leave their eyes, it never got easier. It never does.” She inhaled deeply. “So I fled. I was a capable warrior, but I was still young, and my name wasn’t widely known, so I was confident I could disappear without notice, saving my family from dishonor — and I was right. It took weeks of running and looking over my shoulder, but no one came after me, and I finally made my way back to the village where I grew up. But then my family —”
She closed her eyes slowly, her voice hoarse when she shared, “They couldn’t abide having what they considered a coward for a daughter. They turned their backs on me, and their abandonment forced me into a different kind of survival.” She paused to collect herself, then said, “You know what happened next — I found my way to Ersa and snuck onto Captain Veris’s ship, sailing with him to Vallenia and eventually ending up in the Royal Guard. But those other details, everything I just told you . . . no one knows.
Not even Jaren.”
Kiva’s throat was so dry that she couldn’t speak, but Naari turned and saw the question in her eyes, the desperation to know why she’d shared
such a personal story.
Holding Kiva’s gaze, Naari said, her voice low and full of emotion, “I know what happened today was hard on you. I know you killed that woman to save me, and I know it’s eating at you.”
Kiva tensed as the golden warrior flashed before her eyes once more.
“As mad as I am at you for all the lies and the betrayals,” Naari went on, causing Kiva to brace, “I also know that the only reason I’m standing here is because of you.”
Before Kiva could say anything, Naari pulled her into a rough but heartfelt embrace.
“Thank you,” the guard said into her ear. She kept her hands on Kiva’s shoulders and drew back enough to meet her eyes again, her own amber gaze serious. “The fact that you’re feeling guilt is a credit to you. It means you’re human. It means you’re Kiva. But you acted in selfdefense, and in doing so, you saved my life. So instead of dwelling on what was lost, try to remember that as important as it is to mourn the dead, it’s just as important to celebrate the living.”
Naari gave Kiva’s shoulders a gentle squeeze and whispered, “I will grieve for the six warriors we killed, but I will not regret what we did.
Because if they had succeeded, then we would all be dead.” She gave one final squeeze before releasing Kiva. “Those women would be the first to applaud the courage you showed today. They undertook the Arzavaar knowing what they risked, and they died with honor, just as they would have wanted. They are at peace — now and forever. So when the nightmares come, think about that. And if you can’t . . .” Naari’s lips tipped up in the slightest of smiles, that expression more than anything else telling Kiva that the guard had forgiven her. “Come and wake me. I’ll battle your demons for you.”
On that profound note, Naari turned and left the room.
Long minutes passed as Kiva stared at the closed door, mentally replaying their conversation. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if they were from grief or joy.
Tipp had forgiven her, and now Naari, too.
Kiva let that sink deep before wiping her face and leaving the window, curling up in bed once more. This time, sleep came swiftly.
So did the nightmares.
But every time she woke, she remembered Naari’s words, how those women — including the golden warrior — had known the risks and were now at peace.
Holding on to that, Kiva soon felt her nightmares fading, their power dissolving as perspective allowed her to accept what had happened, and her role in it.
Only then did she drift off one final time, her mind finally at rest.
