Chapter Eighteen
The next few days passed in a haze of blistering sun and windswept sand as their group set out across the desert. They stayed close to the coastline to take advantage of the ocean breeze, only moving inland when the cliffside path became too hazardous for the horses.
Every morning, Kiva continued to work with Caldon, first on her physical strength and then on her magic. He was methodical in making her relive every single moment of the arena battle, showing her a range of self- defense moves she could have used in a multiple-opponent scenario, ignoring her claims that she’d never be in that situation again. Or she hoped not. She might have come to terms with what had happened, thanks to Naari’s intervention, but the golden warrior remained in her thoughts. Kiva doubted she would ever fully disappear — that was the consequence of taking a life, a burden to live with forever.
On the magical side of things, Kiva was becoming increasingly jealous of Ashlyn, who was seeing vast improvements in her windfunneling. She was now able to transport herself to any point she could see in the distance, even if she’d yet to manage anywhere outside of view. But Galdric was impressed by how quickly she was learning. Conversely, Kiva’s attempts to throw her own power outward continued to fizzle into nothing.
Despite how effortless it had been for her to heal Naari after the Arzavaar — and to extend that healing to Ashlyn and Cresta without having to touch them — Kiva had seen little success since then. Her magic was temperamental at best, and causing her no small amount of frustration.
On the third day after they’d left Yirin, the pressure finally got to her enough that, mid-training, she threw her hands in the air and cried, “It’s useless! I’m never going to be able to do what Zuleeka does!”
“That’s actually the opposite of what we want,” Caldon said dryly.
“Death magic, bad. Remember?”
Kiva scowled and kicked at the sand. “Don’t try to be funny when I’m upset.”
Straight-faced, he said, “There’s nothing funny about death magic.
That’s some dark humor you’re into, Sunshine.” He then cracked a smile and nudged her in the ribs, saying, “Lighten up, Sweet Cheeks. No one expects you to learn everything in a day.”
Maybe not, but they clearly wished she’d learn faster than her current speed. She might as well not have magic, for all the progress she was making.
Sighing, Kiva stared across the seemingly endless sand dunes, the early morning sun hinting that the day would be another scorcher. They’d found a small oasis to camp beside overnight, the watering hole narrow but bordered by enough shrubbery that they’d each been able to wash the sweat and dirt off their bodies with a modicum of privacy. Kiva had felt nearly human for the first time in four days when she’d awoken that morning, but now her growing irritation was sabotaging her mood.
In a miserable voice, she said, “I just don’t know how to do it. It’s so instinctive to release my magic when I’m touching someone who’s hurt.
But the rest of the time?” She shook her head and looked down at the sand.
“Galdric says my mother thought I was strong, but I don’t feel strong. All I
feel is scared.”
Gently, Caldon repeated, “Scared?”
“That I’m going to fail you all,” Kiva admitted softly. “I know you’re all relying on me being able to stop Zuleeka, but what if I can’t? What if all the training in the world won’t prepare me for her? I’m already struggling so much just to summon my magic, so what if —”
“Close your eyes.”
Kiva jolted at Jaren’s quiet order and spun to see him walking toward her, his hair damp and his skin flushed from his workout. Naari had been sparring with him, but she’d now joined Eidran and Cresta in a three-way match, while Ashlyn, having finished with Galdric for the day, was wrestling with Torell.
For the briefest of moments, Kiva watched her brother, seeing the wide grin on his face as Ashlyn tackled him, the two of them tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs, laughing freely. Kiva hadn’t had a chance to ask him yet, but there was definitely a spark between them — even Caldon had noticed, grumbling about how his sister always stole the good ones. But Kiva had a feeling Caldon had already turned his affections elsewhere, to a certain redheaded ex-quarrier, even if they spent as much time ignoring
each other as they did flirting. The tension between them was growing uncomfortable for the rest of the group — but Kiva could hardly talk, given the tension she herself felt toward a certain crown prince.
The same crown prince who was now standing before her, waiting for her to obey his command.
“Pardon?” Kiva asked, her chest suddenly tight.
She expected to see impatience, even anger, but his gaze was steady as he repeated, “Close your eyes, Kiva.”
The way he said her name made her feel as if gentle fingers were trailing down her spine, causing her to shiver. “Close my . . . eyes?” she asked, somewhat breathily and definitely dazed. He was so close — closer than he’d willfully been to her in the time since they’d been reunited.
“You said you’re struggling to summon your power,” he stated, apparently having heard her outburst to Caldon. That was mortifying, and she fought the blush wanting to stain her cheeks. “You also said we’re relying on you — and you’re right, we are.”
Kiva winced at hearing confirmation from the one person who needed her to succeed perhaps more than anyone else.
“I might not have magic anymore,” he said, and she quickly looked away, afraid of what she would see in his expression, even if there continued to be no trace of anger in his voice, “but I still know how it works. So please, close your eyes and trust me.”
Kiva hardly dared to breathe with him so near, especially since he seemed to have momentarily set aside his hatred of her. She had no trouble trusting him — she’d never had trouble trusting him, even when she should have. For her, it was as easy as breathing, so she had no problem following his quiet command.
“When you use your magic, what do you feel?” Jaren asked, his voice soft, and close enough that she shivered again. “Hot? Cold? Happy? Sad?
What do you experience?”
Kiva’s stomach flipped in response to his proximity, but she kept her eyes tightly closed as she answered, “It’s like my blood heats up, and I get a tingling feeling in my fingers before it just sort of . . . erupts out of me.”
“Is it uncomfortable?”
“No, never. It feels . . . not happy, but pure. Clean. It feels like —” She took a moment to consider her words. “It feels like life.”
“And what about when you healed Naari and the others in Yirin?” he pressed. “You said afterward that it had come easier to you than ever before, that it just happened. Go back to that moment — what was different about it?”
Kiva cast her mind back. There was nothing she could recall that might have made it less challenging to summon her magic, aside from — “Tipp had just forgiven me,” Kiva answered quietly, almost embarrassingly. “The way he was looking at me, believing without a doubt that I’d be able to heal Naari . . . I — I —” She paused to gather herself. “I was feeling a lot, knowing that he accepted what I could do, and therefore who I was. His confidence in me, his love . . .” She had to clear the emotion from her voice before she could finish, “My magic came effortlessly. I barely even had to think about it.”
There was a weighty silence that lasted long enough for Kiva to wonder if Jaren had walked away. She was just about to crack open her eyelids and check when he spoke, his voice still quiet, still close.
“Elemental magic is prompted by conscious thought,” he shared. “In the same way your brain sends a message to your hands or feet if you want to move your fingers or wiggle your toes, a similar kind of mindful conditioning is what creates a magical response. Summon a flame. Grow a tree. Make it rain. Create a breeze. All it takes is a mental command, regardless of whether it’s deliberate or reactive.” He paused. “But your magic sounds as if it acts more on an emotional level. Ignoring what happened in Yirin, all the times you’ve healed people in the past, what was your dominant feeling?”
Kiva thought about healing Tipp in Zalindov, her brother at Vallenia’s docks, Jaren at the River Palace. In all three instances, they were mere moments from death. The answer came to her easily: “Desperation.”
A quiet puff of air left Jaren, and she wondered if he too was remembering the night he’d been stabbed. He’d been unconscious when she’d healed him, so he had no idea how terrified she’d been that she wouldn’t be able to save him. But Caldon had witnessed every traumatic second of it, and likely shared the entire encounter afterward.
“That makes sense,” Jaren said, after clearing his throat. “It’s also likely why you’re having so much trouble calling your power when no one’s in trouble — because you’ve become used to channeling your magic only in dire circumstances.”
“So what does that mean?” asked Caldon, and Kiva jumped, having forgotten she’d been training with him before Jaren had arrived.
“It means she needs to retrain her mind,” Jaren said. “If her power is linked to her emotions, then she needs to feed it the right feelings, ones that aren’t driven by fear, but by hope, and joy, and —” He stopped himself.
But Caldon finished for him, having heard what Kiva had said about Tipp. “Love. She needs to focus on love.”
Kiva was glad her eyes were still closed, if only to avoid seeing whatever look passed between the two princes.
“Right,” Jaren said, his voice rougher than before. But then it returned to normal as he addressed Kiva again. “I want you to think of a memory — a good one. Something that made you feel all the things we just talked about. Maybe think about when Tipp forgave you. Or perhaps a moment from your childhood, something that’s strong and clear in your mind and makes you feel lighter just thinking about it.”
“A memory filled with love,” Caldon added, apparently agreeing with his cousin’s new training technique.
Kiva’s mind sped over a thousand possibilities, with Tipp’s face coming to her, then Torell’s, her father’s, even Caldon’s. Each of them was attached to more than one memory that made her feel light, but she had trouble holding them in her thoughts, the images vanishing quickly. Only one memory was able to stay in the forefront of her mind, making her knees weak and her stomach flip all over again.
The night of the masquerade — before everything had gone wrong.
The night when she and Jaren had first kissed.
I know you’re scared, he’d whispered, right before his lips had touched hers. But I promise you don’t have to be. You’re safe with me, Kiva. You’ll always be safe with me.
Kiva hadn’t let herself think about that part of the night in all the time since then, fearing what it might do to her poor, grieving heart. But there was no denying that it fit everything she was being asked to feel. A good
memory — filled with love.
“Do you have one?” Jaren asked softly.
“Yes,” Kiva whispered, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.
If he had any idea that he was starring in her thoughts, he didn’t let on, and instead said, “Good. Now hold your hands out, like you’re cupping water in your palms.”
Kiva did so, her arms trembling from the emotion now coursing through her.
“Keep replaying that memory,” Jaren said, his voice now coming from behind her. He was close enough that she could feel his heat along her back, his breath against her ear. “Everything you felt at the time, keep it central in your thoughts. And then use it to dive deep within yourself, as if tapping a well full of your magic, carrying it back up to the surface. It’s light, not heavy. Full of hope, full of joy, full of — of love.”
He stumbled over the word, but Kiva barely heard him, all too aware of the tingles overtaking her body, of the warmth that had nothing to do with
him standing behind her.
Open your eyes, sweetheart.
The words didn’t come from Jaren now; they were part of her memory from that night — when Jaren had uttered them so impossibly softly, and she’d obeyed, only to see everything he’d felt for her revealed in his expression.
“Open your eyes, Kiva,” the real Jaren whispered, causing her pulse to skip a beat.
But this time when she did so, he wasn’t waiting before her, looking at her with his heart on his sleeve. Instead, she glanced down to find her hands glowing, a steady, bright light sitting between her palms, waiting for direction.
It was as if something clicked within her then, an instinct she’d been unaware of, or perhaps suppressing. She separated her hands until they were stretched out at her sides, the glow remaining with them both, until she fisted one set of fingers to snuff it out. She then tossed the remaining ball of light into the air, catching it with her free hand, before making a waving gesture that caused an arc of golden light to spread outward from where she stood, like a gilded rainbow stretching three feet, five feet, ten feet long before she called it back into herself. Only then did she release her hold on her power, the tingles and the warmth fading as the glow finally disappeared.
For a moment, Kiva stood there, stunned.
But then she heard a whoop sound right before Caldon lifted her off the ground, spinning her in a circle.
“I knew you could do it!” he said, dropping her back onto the sand and beaming widely. “Now we just have to work on building your endurance
and refining your technique. How do you feel? Tired? Drained?”
Kiva felt neither, or at least not to the level she normally did after using her magic. It was as if, in not having to fight for it, to beg for it, she hadn’t wasted as much energy as she normally would. Her magic wanted to be summoned. It wanted to feel the joy that she’d just fed it, the love that she’d used to coax it out.
For the first time since she’d learned about having to counter her sister’s power, Kiva felt a stirring of hope, enough that she couldn’t keep the grin from her lips when she answered, “I feel good. Really, really good.”
Slowly, she turned to see what Jaren had to say, longing to see the approval on his face, perhaps even a smile — something that she missed more than anything.
But when she looked around, all she saw was his strong back as he strode away.
“Never mind him,” Caldon said, seeing her face fall and clapping her heartily on the shoulder. “We’re not done training. Summon your magic again, and this time I want you to try for fifteen feet. A straight line, too, like you’re aiming for a target.”
When she didn’t immediately jump to action, he tapped his boot on the ground and said, “What are you waiting for? Now, Sunshine.”
And so, Kiva turned away from the sight of Jaren unsheathing his sword and returning to his sparring, acting, once again, as if she didn’t exist.
