Chapter Nineteen
That night, Kiva sat alone in front of the fire, a soft glow emanating not just from the flames, but also from the magic she held between her palms. She stared at it, amazed anew by what she could now do.
All day as they’d ridden through the searing desert, Caldon had remained by her side, making her call her power on command, and even send it toward their traveling companions, easing their riding pains from a distance. It had been so easy, so natural, that Kiva had wanted to laugh.
She’d still needed frequent breaks when her energy waned enough to risk tumbling off Zephyr’s back — not that the beast would have minded — but she hadn’t suffered from the all-consuming exhaustion her previous life-or- death healings had prompted. Even now, there was merely a weariness in her body, similar to how she felt after a hard physical workout.
Caldon had said she needed to build endurance, and Kiva was determined to do so, knowing how vital it was for her to be in top condition by the time they returned to Vallenia.
“You’re really getting the hang of that,” Torell said, coming to sit beside her. None of the others were in sight, each having jobs to do as part of their nightly routine. Kiva had been allocated dinner duty that evening, and was carefully monitoring the stew boiling on the fire.
“I still have a lot to learn,” she said, banishing her magic before summoning it again. It was a basic strengthening exercise, one of the many Caldon had taught her that day. “Are the others back yet?”
Like every evening when they made camp, two of their companions had ridden out to scout the area, making sure there were no nasty surprises — or unwanted company — near enough to threaten them while they slept.
Tonight, Caldon and Ashlyn had offered to go together, making Kiva’s heart warm for the siblings, who were slowly catching up on everything they’d missed in the last three years.
“Not yet,” Tor answered, feeding some twigs into the fire.
They’d been fortunate enough to find another oasis, this one considerably larger than the last and with more foliage — including a good
amount of desert grass that the horses had begun devouring upon arrival.
Tipp and Galdric were currently checking all the mounts and rubbing them down, and despite how far away they were, Kiva could still hear the young boy talking nonstop to the ex-rebel leader. She couldn’t make out the words, but his bubbly, happy tone made her sigh with contentment.
“Everything all right?” Tor asked, hearing the sound and looking at her with concern, his emerald eyes and dark hair both reflecting the light of the fire.
“Better than it’s been for a long time,” Kiva answered, thinking about the journey her life had taken over the last few weeks, a nightmare slowly becoming less so. She still had moments of darkness, her mind often plagued by memories of Zalindov or Navok or the arena battle, along with fears of what might be happening in Vallenia with Zuleeka and Mirryn. But right now, that all felt distant.
Carefully, Tor hedged, “Things seemed to go well with Jaren this morning.”
It was a leading statement, and Kiva looked around quickly, aware that Jaren had gone to refill their water skins and could return at any moment. “I don’t want to get my hopes up,” she said quietly. “But he seems to not hate
me as much. Maybe. I’m unsure.”
“Have you talked to him?”
Kiva tossed her magic slowly from palm to palm. “Talked to him?”
Tor’s lips twitched. “Yeah, Mouse. You know, that thing where your mouth moves and words come out?”
Kiva pulled a face, causing him to chuckle.
“Seriously,” he said. “It’s been, what? Twelve days since you were
reunited —”
“Thirteen,” Kiva mumbled.
“— and you still haven’t tried to explain everything that happened?
Even I’ve spoken with him, sharing my side of things.”
Kiva’s eyes widened. “You have?”
“I doubt we’ll ever be best friends,” Tor said wryly, “but I’m not worried about him stabbing me in my sleep anymore. We’ve even been training together — haven’t you noticed?” He didn’t wait for her answer before he added, “Don’t get me wrong, it was one of the most uncomfortable conversations of my life. Owning up to your mistakes is never easy. It’s not meant to be easy. But it’s always worth it. I understand
why you’re hesitant, but, well . . .” He frowned. “Actually, no, I don’t. Why haven’t you talked with him yet?”
Kiva rolled the tension from her neck, shocked that she’d been oblivious to Tor working on his relationship with Jaren. But even so, their situations were different. Tor wasn’t in love with Jaren — and he hadn’t
betrayed him.
“It’s complicated,” Kiva finally said.
Torell snorted. “That’s an understatement. But it’s never going to become uncomplicated if you keep being afraid of confronting him.”
“I’m not afraid.”
The lie was so obvious that Torell burst out laughing.
“No, you’re terrified,” he said around his mirth. He nudged her shoulder, before gently asking, “What’s the worst that could happen? He’ll hate you even more?”
Kiva bit her lip and glanced toward where Jaren had disappeared earlier, striding through the fading twilight down to the watering hole. For one mad second, she considered going after him, but then her courage fled and she swiftly turned the interrogation around on her brother. “Forget about Jaren.
What’s going on with you and Ashlyn?”
Torell started. “What do you mean?”
This time it was Kiva who snorted. “Don’t play dumb. Even Caldon has noticed.” As an aside, she added, “He’s quite put out, you know.”
Tor’s forehead bunched. “I didn’t realize he was so protective of her.”
Kiva rolled her eyes. “I think he’s more upset that she’s managed to steal your attention, rather than him.”
“Rather than . . .” Torell blinked. “Oh.” He scratched his jaw, embarrassed. “I always wondered why I kept turning around to find him staring longingly at me. I was beginning to think I was imagining it.”
Kiva choked. “You — You didn’t know?” She chortled. “But he’s so obvious.”
Torell fed more sticks into the fire, his cheeks flushing. “I thought he and Cresta —”
“He wishes,” Cresta said, appearing out of nowhere and making Kiva jump. She sat opposite them and unsheathed her sword — gifted by Eidran — along with a whetstone, and began sharpening the blade.
Despite the glimmer of humor in Cresta’s features, Kiva also noticed the anticipation there. She shook her head, failing to understand the cat-and-
mouse game her two friends were playing.
She still hadn’t figured out who was the cat and who was the mouse.
Turning back to her brother, Kiva said, “If you’d realized about Caldon sooner, would you have . . . returned his affections?” She stumbled over the words, feeling strange having this conversation after so many years apart.
“And what about Rhessinda? I assumed you two were . . . you know . . .”
She trailed off, uncomfortable now.
An amused sound left Torell. “Rhess and me? No. Definitely no. She’s like a sister.” He shuddered comically. “I mean, I love her, and I’d do anything for her, and I know that’s reciprocated. But there’s nothing romantic there. And besides,” he added, “she doesn’t feel that way about men. Or women. She loves fiercely, and the people she cares about mean everything to her, but she’s the first to say she’d rather have chocabuns warm her bed than another person.” He smiled in memory. “That’s a direct quote, straight from her lips.”
Kiva was amazed by how wrong she’d been about the two of them. . . . Though she couldn’t fault Rhess for her taste in pastries.
“And Caldon?” Kiva pressed.
This time, Torell took longer to respond, peering thoughtfully into the fire before he said, “I’ll admit, I’m flattered. Cal is — well, he’s obviously nice to look at, and once you get past the arrogance, I can see why you care so much about him. But there’s no spark there, at least not for me.
Attraction has to be more than skin-deep.”
Kiva mulled over his response, unsurprised given what she’d seen of their interactions. “So, back to my question about Ashlyn . . . ?”
Torell’s gaze became unfocused, a rare, goofy smile touching his lips.
“She’s special.”
“Ugh, gag,” Cresta muttered, pressing harder on her whetstone, as if hoping the sound would drown out what she was hearing.
“No one asked you to join us,” Kiva told her.
“I’m here for the food,” Cresta said. “I didn’t think I’d have to endure whatever this is.”
“You’re just jealous that Tor’s not afraid to admit to his feelings,” Kiva said. “Unlike whatever the hell you and Caldon are doing.”
“There’s no fun in that,” Cresta returned, grinning. “Tor’s choice leads to long, sunset walks and chaste cheek-kisses. Mine leads to pent-up frustration and hot, steamy —”
“Gods, do not finish that sentence,” Ashlyn groaned, appearing out of the darkness with Caldon at her side. He was chuckling and sent a wink toward Cresta, which she dutifully ignored, continuing to play their game.
Torell had stiffened beside Kiva, clearly anxious about how much the Vallentis siblings had heard. But when Ashlyn sat next to him and asked about one of the rebel attacks he’d secretly sabotaged, he relaxed again, answering her questions without hesitation.
Kiva marveled at them: two generals from opposing bloodlines who had managed to set aside their differences and develop feelings for each other.
Because it wasn’t just Torell who was emotionally invested — the way Ashlyn was looking at him made it seem like he was the only person in the world. Or at least, in her world.
“I hate them,” Caldon muttered as he dropped down on Kiva’s free side.
She didn’t even try to hide her smile. “You do not.”
He sighed. “Fine. I don’t. But do they have to be so mushy about it?”
“There’s a good ten inches of space between them,” Kiva said dryly, leaning forward to check the stew. “And they’re discussing fighting strategies. I’d hardly consider that mushy.”
“You forget, my sister has wind magic,” Caldon retorted. “All it would take is a flick of her hand and — whoosh — off come his clothes. You think I want to witness that? No, thank you.” He cocked his head and amended, “Well, actually, I do, but only if —”
“We can hear you, asshole,” Ashlyn said, turning to scowl at him.
Cresta choked on a laugh, and Kiva was tempted to join her, if not for the unpleasant image Caldon had just inserted into her mind.
“Please don’t say something like that to me again,” Kiva begged.
“Or to anyone,” Ashlyn stated, still frowning at him. Her face then cleared, a mischievous look coming over her as she added, “But since you’re so curious, my magic doesn’t quite work like that. Clothes are tricky, with all those buckles and belts. I much prefer to use my hands so I can touch —”
“La-la-la,” Caldon interrupted, plugging his ears immaturely. “Not thinking about my sister and —”
“What in the everworld is going on over here?” Naari asked, joining them, with Eidran following close behind.
With a devilish grin toward Caldon, Cresta said, “We were just discussing the preferred method of —”
“Using magic,” Caldon interrupted firmly. “But now Kiva is going to tell us if the food is ready, and we’re going to eat. In silence.”
Kiva patted his knee, biting back a laugh at his uncharacteristic show of discomfort. “The stew’s done,” she confirmed, standing. “I’ll go tell the others.”
As she walked away, she could have sworn she heard Caldon pleading, “Don’t leave me with these reprobates,” which only made her snicker into the darkness.
Carefully, she picked her way through the shrubs and date palms toward where they’d set up the temporary pen for the horses. Halfway there, she summoned her magic, delighted to discover that the glow illuminated her path enough to avoid tripping. Soon, however, it wasn’t needed, since Tipp and Galdric were using handheld luminium lanterns as they saw to Ashlyn’s and Caldon’s newly returned mounts. Spirit was already settled and happily munching on tufts of grass, while Caldon’s mare, Fury, was impatiently waiting for Galdric to complete her rubdown.
Looking toward Tipp, Kiva saw that he’d just finished cleaning their gear and was sorting everything into neat, efficient piles. Pride welled in her as she watched him meticulously check everything over before giving a nod of satisfaction. Only then did he turn and see her, his face brightening instantly.
“K-Kiva!” he greeted her, with a gap-toothed smile. “You were r-right about that p-poultice — Whistlefoot’s swelling is a-almost completely g-g- gone!”
She returned his smile, not sharing that she’d had no idea if a treatment intended for humans would work on his beloved pony, but pleased for him nonetheless.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said. “I added extra collis bulbs, just for you.”
No one else could stand the chalky-tasting desert tuber, but Tipp was a growing boy with a stomach that would find dirt palatable as long as it filled him up.
His grin widened and he bounced over to give her a quick hug, before skipping off in the direction of the fire, calling over his shoulder, “I h-hope they left m-me some!”
Kiva was willing to bet that every single bulb would be waiting at the bottom of the pot for him, untouched by the others. She chuckled and shook her head, before looking toward the palms leading down to the watering
hole, debating whether she should go and find Jaren or let him return on his own.
She still hadn’t decided when Galdric cleared his throat, drawing her eyes.
“We haven’t had much of a chance to talk,” he said, shifting from foot to foot. Fury stomped with agitation, picking up on his nerves, and he ran a soothing hand along her back.
Before Kiva could ask what Galdric wanted to discuss, a puff of air on her neck had her whipping around to find Zephyr had snuck up behind her.
She eyed him warily, but instead of trying to bite her, he only nudged her with his muzzle.
“Ha,” she declared quietly, stroking his silky gray cheek. “I knew I’d grow on you.”
“That one’s a menace to groom,” Galdric stated. “I don’t think he likes anyone.”
“He’s just picky,” Kiva said, moving her hand quickly when Zephyr had enough of her affection and attempted to nip her. Clearly, there was still room for improvement in their relationship, but as Caldon had once told her, small steps were still steps.
Bored of her now, Zephyr ambled away, leaving Kiva’s full attention on Galdric.
“I know it’s not my place,” he said, “and I don’t even know if you want to hear it, but your mother —” He broke off, tugging on his beard. “She was — Your mother was —” He tried again, his voice thick. “Tilda was very dear to me. We grew close, after your father passed.” Panicked, he said, “Not like that. She loved Faran too much to give her heart to anyone else.
But I —” He kept his gaze firmly on Fury as he admitted, “I couldn’t help developing those feelings for her, even knowing she’d never reciprocate them.”
Kiva stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say. Since knowing Galdric, the mother she’d thought she’d had, then lost, then realized she’d never known at all, had returned to being someone she remembered from her childhood. And yet, she still felt distance whenever she thought of Tilda. Not just from the years they’d been apart, but from all the lies and half-truths and the choices her mother had made — choices that had left Kiva alone in Zalindov for a decade.
“Did she ever tell you why she didn’t come and get me?” Kiva asked, having recently learned that she could have been freed any time before her twelfth birthday. Zuleeka had offered a flimsy excuse about how Kiva’s magic could have endangered the rebel movement, but Kiva knew there had to be more to it than that, since both Tilda and Zuleeka had been using their power that whole time.
“Ah,” Galdric said, fidgeting. “I’m afraid that might have been my fault.”
Kiva narrowed her eyes at the guilt on his face.
“You see,” he said, “I — well — I’m sorry, there’s no easy way to say this, but I told Tilda that the law allowing the release of minors didn’t apply to those accused of being rebel sympathizers. She trusted me, and I took advantage of that.” Seeing Kiva’s stricken look, he quickly added, “I thought I was protecting her. Faran was still alive then, and if she’d gone to claim you, she never would have left, knowing he was still imprisoned — she would have ended up locked in there with him. But when news of his death came a year later, I was too ashamed to admit that I’d lied. I’d already fallen in love with her, and I was so afraid that she’d —” His voice broke, his remorseful gaze meeting Kiva’s. “I’m so sorry. I won’t ask you to forgive me. But I’d hate if you went on thinking your mother to be the villain, when all she ever wanted was to love you, to protect you, to be with you. And she would have, if not for me.”
Kiva was having trouble breathing. Somehow, she managed to say, “But Zuleeka knew. She said Mother thought it was best if I stayed in —”
“Zuleeka overheard me speaking to one of the other rebel leaders about it, telling them my plans to keep Tilda safe,” Galdric explained. If anything, he only looked more ashamed. “She was so terrified of losing your mother that she readily agreed to stay quiet.”
Kiva had been seven when she’d been sent to Zalindov. Zuleeka had been eleven. They’d never been as close as Kiva had felt toward Torell, even toward her younger brother, Kerrin, but still. For Zuleeka to have cared so little about Kiva that she’d hidden how easy it would have been to free her, even — and especially — after their father had passed, made Kiva feel as if something very heavy was sitting on her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Galdric said again, whispering now. “I debated not telling you. I’ve been fighting with myself about it since long before we met. But I think — if I were you, I’d want to know. And I can’t in good conscience let
you believe your mother abandoned you. She loved you, so very much. And she asked — many times — if we could stage a rescue, but I always told her it was too dangerous. And every time, I saw her heart break a little more, until the day I could no longer say no.”
“That’s when you went with her to Navok,” Kiva realized, her voice hoarse.
“Yes. But by then, she was so sick that —” Galdric stopped himself, then quietly said, “I knew our chances were slim, but I’d hoped she would at least get to see you, before . . .”
“She was blind when she arrived at Zalindov,” Kiva said, feeling numb now. “Did you know that? She didn’t get to see me, not once. And she was so delirious with fever, I don’t think she even knew who I was most of the time.”
A pained moan left Galdric. “We waited too long. I should have helped her sooner. I should have listened. Instead, it was Zuleeka’s downward spiral that finally made me agree that something needed to be done — that we needed you.” His voice was full of regret as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Kiva held his gaze, a silent war raging within her. Hearing that her mother had been lied to . . . She didn’t know how to process that, or the heartache that came with knowing Tilda had never truly abandoned her — not willfully, at least. In the same way that Torell hadn’t known he could free Kiva, Tilda had been equally ignorant.
Because of Galdric.
And Zuleeka.
Perhaps it was too forgiving of Kiva, but she could understand Galdric’s motivations. He hadn’t known her personally back then, and he’d wanted to protect the woman he’d loved. While there was surely more he wasn’t admitting to — like his desire to keep Tilda out of prison so she could continue spearheading the rebel campaign — for the most part, his reasons had been pure, even if they’d led to Kiva’s misfortune.
But Zuleeka?
She was Kiva’s sister. Even if she’d been worried about their mother, she still should have cared enough about Kiva to want her free. Unless — “When did Zuleeka realize she had magic?” Kiva asked.
Galdric hesitated, before answering, “Soon after your family joined us.
But she kept it hidden, only telling Tilda, who of course told me.”
“And when did she start using death magic?”
This time, Galdric’s hesitation was longer. “I can’t know for sure, but I think she understood what she could do almost straightaway. She only trained her healing magic with your mother, though, which is why she hasn’t yet succumbed to the blood illness like Tilda did — that, and because she’s not repressing it like Tilda was, plus she’s younger, so her body is able to restore itself faster. It took a few years before she began to actively use her death magic, and that’s when your mother chose to cover for her.”
Kiva looked out into the now fully dark oasis, the moonlight kissing the leaves of the date palms and shading them silver. “So, if Zuleeka knew what she could do, and what I could do, then she could probably have guessed what my power might do against hers.”
“She was young,” Galdric said softly. “But if I had to speculate, then yes, I assume that may have given her another reason for wanting to keep
you away. That, and . . .”
“And what?”
Galdric sighed. “Zuleeka has always struggled with jealousy. I saw it time and again in the rebel camps, especially when your brother grew into himself and began to excel in his training. She never liked when someone else received more attention or praise than she did. And I think, because of that, she considered you a threat for your mother’s affections. Tilda was always saying how powerful you were, even before you’d had a chance to properly use your magic. I think Zuleeka feared that if you were released from Zalindov, she might be pushed to the side.”
That heavy feeling on Kiva’s chest was still there, now worse than before. She looked into the darkness once more, automatically turning in the direction of the watering hole. She would have given anything to talk to Jaren about what Galdric had just shared, knowing that, once upon a time, he would have held her until the pain eased.
She missed that — she missed him.
Maybe Torell was right. Maybe it was time she talked to Jaren. Tipp had forgiven her, as had Naari. And Caldon hadn’t maintained his anger long enough to need to forgive her. After nearly two weeks of being back together, of Jaren witnessing her heal Naari — twice — and watching her battle alongside their friends in the arena, all for a ring that would return his magic and prevent the loss of his kingdom, surely he would be willing to hear her out?
Kiva wasn’t confident, but she felt hope flutter in her heart, especially when she remembered how he’d helped her that morning, how he’d been within touching distance of her — by choice.
She knew better than to expect his comfort for what she’d just learned, but maybe they could start working to get back to that place, if only she could find the courage to face him and begin mending what was between
them.
Small steps are still steps.
Caldon’s wisdom came to her again, solidifying her decision.
“Thank you for telling me all of that,” Kiva said to Galdric, wanting to seek out Jaren before she lost her nerve. “And thank you for caring about my mother — and trying to protect her. I don’t agree with your actions, but I can appreciate that you were in a difficult position, and you did what you thought was best.”
Galdric seemed stunned by her acceptance, his hand frozen on Fury’s back.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Kiva went on, “there’s something I need to do.”
She turned and headed toward the waterhole, her heart pounding as she navigated the desert shrubbery until she saw a glimpse of the surface rippling beneath the moonlight.
I can do this, she told herself, even if she was shaking on the inside.
This was Jaren — she knew him.
He would listen to her.
He had to.
But when Kiva finally reached the shore, he was nowhere in sight.
The courage bled out of her as she realized he must have already returned to the fire.
For a minute, she considered pulling him away for a private talk, but that would only result in unwanted attention — from everyone.
No, Kiva would have to wait for another opportunity.
Tomorrow — she would find a chance to talk to him tomorrow.
Nodding to herself, she stared at the water, allowing it to calm the turbulence she felt after her conversation with Galdric. Only when she was at peace again did she rejoin her friends, accepting the stew Tipp had saved for her and doing everything she could to not look at Jaren for the rest of the night, lest he see the longing on her face.
