The Blood Traitor (The Prison Healer, #3) — Chapter no 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

The first few hours of their hike were blessedly uneventful.

Their journey began with them riding out of the sleepy city, the sky still navy but beginning to turn indigo by the time they reached the foothills.

They didn’t speak, which helped ease some of Kiva’s nerves, since she could almost imagine it was Caldon beside her, just as long as she didn’t look in Jaren’s direction.

Her tension continued to fade when they arrived at the base of Mount Nebu and found a clear path that was easy to traverse on horseback, leading them about a third of the way up the mountain. At that point, the trees were less dense and the terrain started to crumble underfoot, with the unstable salt threading deeper through the rock the higher they traveled. Queen Issa and Lady Silence had warned them to monitor the ground, and had also shared directions to an enclosed goatherders’ cave full of hay and straw that would keep the horses comfortable until the return trip.

Once Zephyr and Nightshade were settled, Kiva and Jaren set out on foot. The sky was now a dusty pink color and free of clouds, but they still had hours of climbing ahead. Kiva refused to worry about the weather changing, and focused on placing one foot in front of the other as they continued upward. Without the added weight of Zephyr, the mountain wasn’t at risk of crumbling beneath her, but it was rocky enough that she had to be careful not to trip. Jaren didn’t have healing magic — if she twisted an ankle, he would have to carry her, and that was something to be avoided at all costs.

As the slope intensified, Kiva began to pant lightly, and then much more heavily the higher they climbed. They were still beneath the tree line, and every so often she spotted a cave nestled into the rockface, reminding her about the potential need to seek quick shelter. But so far, everything had gone smoothly, and Kiva was feeling hopeful that they would reach the summit and return in record time.

“Let’s take a break,” Jaren said when the trees began to thin, the first either of them had spoken in hours.

Kiva nodded and sank onto the ground, groaning as she lowered her pack and rubbed her tired shoulders.

“How are you traveling?” Jaren asked, pulling a waterskin from his own pack, along with a pouch of nuts and berries.

Kiva’s stomach rumbled, and she dug through her supplies until she found the same items. “A bit sore, but nothing terrible,” she answered.

Polite and casual, like two strangers making small talk — she could do this.

She actually felt more comfortable with him than she had for a long time, her energy devoted to surviving the climb, with nothing left to fuel her

nerves. “You?”

“Same,” Jaren said.

Given his fit physique, Kiva doubted the truth of his answer. He hadn’t been panting at all, and she was certain he’d only suggested the break for her benefit. But she didn’t say anything, grateful for his consideration and eager to return to their companionable silence.

Knowing they would soon be without the privacy of the trees, they both made sure to relieve themselves before continuing onward, after which they set out again, the slope increasing to thigh-burning levels, the path vanishing along with the trees. Soon all that was left were jagged boulders and sharp rocks, all of which they had to carefully navigate, often by climbing over them. More than once, Jaren held out his hand to help Kiva, and each time she felt the burn of his touch long after he released her.

As the sun rose high in the sky, the gray sediment yielded to the white salt, indicating they were nearing the summit. The climb was more arduous now, and they had to take frequent breaks, but the wind chill above the tree line was too biting to allow for anything more than some water and a few mouthfuls of food before they moved off again.

It was after one of those breaks that they came across their first crevice, the salted ground cleaved in two and stretching as far as their eyes could see, like someone had taken a blade and cut it right through the mountain.

Kiva froze at the sight, adrenaline flooding her as she looked over the edge and deep into the fissure. She couldn’t see how far down it went, causing a thrill of fear to travel up her spine at the very real reminder of where she was and the risks of their journey.

“We’re going to have to jump over it,” Jaren said, also peering into the cleft.

Kiva swallowed, looking again across the surface for an end to the fracture, seeing nothing but the fierce jagged line in both directions.

“Hey,” Jaren said, noting her fear and reaching for her hand. “It’s only a few feet across. We’ll jump together.”

Kiva stared numbly down at where his fingers tangled with hers, suddenly feeling too much. She quickly pulled away and croaked out, “You go first. I’ll follow.”

Jaren watched her for a long moment, likely seeing that her fear had increased — and wasn’t solely because of the mountain anymore. He nodded slowly and said, “Take a running leap, just to be safe. Like this.”

He backed up a few steps and then bounded forward, clearing the crevice with ease and landing lightly on the other side.

“Now your turn,” he called.

Kiva didn’t think about what she was doing, knowing that if she did, she would yield to her better judgment. Instead, she backed up and then sprang forward, pushing off from the hard white salt and leaping straight over the gap. She stumbled a little upon landing, the weight of her pack tipping her backwards toward the crevice, causing a second of instant, paralyzing terror. But then Jaren was there, his arms snaking around her and drawing her forward until she was a safe distance from the fissure, her heart thundering and legs trembling as she remained pressed against his body,

unable to move.

“All right?” he asked quietly.

She couldn’t answer immediately, partly because of what had just happened, but also because he’d yet to let her go. Somehow, she managed to pull herself together and step away, brushing her hair behind her ear with a shaking hand as she nodded and replied with a hoarse, “Thank you.”

It took a while for Kiva’s tremors to ease, and they spiked all over again with each new crevice they found, the jagged lines cutting into the mountain with alarming regularity the higher they ascended. Some they were able to walk around, but others were like the first and required them to jump — though Kiva was careful to consider her pack now, adding extra distance to her leaps to avoid any more surprise embraces.

Soon her concerns about the fissures were replaced with anxiety about the weather, since dark clouds had begun to form worryingly close to where they climbed. Both she and Jaren continued scanning upward with unease,

and when the first spot of rain touched Kiva’s cheek, she knew they were reaching a point where they would have to consider finding shelter.

But then she saw it — the cave at the top of the mountain.

Jaren saw it too and turned to smile widely at her, his expression so joyous, so carefree, that she staggered to a halt.

That was when the earth moved.

Kiva felt as if she was standing on the back of a great beast that had awoken, the salt shifting, the ground cracking, an almighty roar echoing across the mountain range. The sound made her want to cover her ears, but she was too busy trying to remain on her feet, her hand automatically reaching for Jaren’s, grabbing hold of him just as the peak split in two — Right beneath their feet.

A terrified shriek left Kiva and she leapt backwards, hauling Jaren with her, but the salt cracked and crumbled under him, unable to hold his weight as the crevice opened like an angry slash across the summit.

And then he was falling.

“NO!” Kiva screamed as he plummeted into the fissure, his mass pulling her down until she was on her stomach and hanging precariously over the edge, holding on to him for dear life. She stretched out her free hand to reinforce her grip, straining against his bulky weight, a new wave of terror hitting her when she realized he was too heavy for her to pull him up

on her own.

“You need to help me!” she cried.

But he was already working on it, reaching with his left hand, his knuckles white as he found a grip on the ledge and began to pull himself upward. Kiva added her strength, heaving with all her might.

And then, suddenly, he was out, the force of his momentum causing them both to tumble backwards onto the surface with him landing on top of her, the two of them lying there, panting fiercely, unable to move.

Kiva wasn’t sure who was shaking more. Her arms circled Jaren instinctively, her heart pounding so hard that she could barely hear her own labored breaths. There were tears trickling from her eyes, a fear response she couldn’t help, just as she couldn’t let him go, even knowing that she should.

She wasn’t sure how long it took before he was able to rise onto his elbows, looking down at her with wonder as he said, “You saved me.”

Her senses returning, Kiva pushed at his chest, but he didn’t move.

“You’ve saved me plenty of times,” she said weakly. Raindrops began sprinkling lightly on them, the quiet drip, drip, drip touching Kiva’s face and blending with her tears.

Jaren shifted, but only so he could move his hand to her cheek, his fingers gently tracing the evidence of her distress, prompting an involuntary shiver in response. “Why are you crying?”

Kiva pushed at his chest again, a new kind of panic hitting her. “Can you please move?”

He didn’t budge. “Why are you crying, Kiva?”

“Why do you think?” she said, growing angry now. Anger was good.

Anger meant she didn’t have to feel everything else she was currently experiencing. “I just watched you fall into a mountain. You could have

died.”

“And that upset you?”

Kiva gaped at him, then shoved him with all her might, hard enough that she was able to wriggle out from beneath him and lurch up to her feet.

Her back gave a sharp bark of pain from where she’d landed on her pack, but she ignored it and glared at Jaren as he rose before her. They were both careful to keep a safe distance from the new crevice, the mountain having settled once more, even if Kiva felt as if everything within her was still shifting dangerously.

“Did you seriously just ask that?” she hissed, swiping at her face and scowling up at the sky as the sprinkles increased. A rumble of thunder in the distance made her aware that they needed to hurry for the cave before any lightning arrived, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, waiting for Jaren’s answer.

“I did,” he said, his eyes steady on hers. “You’ve been avoiding me. I have no idea how you feel. So I asked.”

Unlike Kiva, he was no longer shaking, as if he was already over the near miss of what had just occurred, his focus entirely on her now.

Her anger growing, Kiva leaned forward and said, “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s what you want.”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for days, you know that. It’s been incredibly frustrating,” Jaren returned, his calm voice at odds with his statement. “You’ve been avoiding me because you’re afraid.”

Kiva glared at him. “I’m not afraid.”

“You are,” he said. “You’ve barely been able to look at me for weeks.”

Kiva threw out her arms, too shaken by everything that had just happened to filter her response. “You’re the one who wouldn’t look at me!

You told me you wanted nothing to do with me — so I gave you that!”

“I lied.”

With those two words, every part of Kiva stilled, her anger vanishing into a strange numbness as she took in his honest, open expression. Then panic flooded her, and she shook her head firmly, taking a step backwards, her heart beginning to pound all over again. “You didn’t. You’re just confused. You — You hate me.”

Pain, raw and unmistakable, washed over Jaren’s features. He closed his eyes slowly, and when he opened them again, it was still there, haunting his gaze. “I could never hate you, Kiva.”

She shook her head again, adamant now, refusing to listen. “You do.

And that’s — that’s fine. You don’t need to act like you don’t. After everything I did —”

“What did you do?” Jaren asked, moving a step closer.

Kiva’s mouth opened and shut, words failing her, because he knew exactly what she’d done. “I — Zuleeka — That night —”

Jaren cocked his head to the side. “Did you give your sister the amulet?”

Kiva jolted at the question, and then it was she who had to close her eyes, recalling the lies her sister had told in the River Room and the devastation on Jaren’s face. “No,” she answered, her voice turning hoarse.

“I didn’t even know she’d stolen it from me. But —”

“Did you tell her about my magic, that I could wield all four elements?”

Jaren interrupted, moving another step forward.

Kiva shifted backwards, but then she had to stop, the crevice too close

behind her. “I —”

“Did you?” he pressed.

“No,” she said again. He’d trusted her with that secret, and she’d never told anyone, just as she’d promised.

“Did you help her steal the Book of the Law?”

Kiva curled in on herself, remembering how Tipp had been blamed for her sister’s actions. “No,” she rasped out.

He took another step toward her, his voice soft now. “Did you give her the dagger?”

This time Kiva could only stand there, shaking, and whisper, “Of course not. I had no idea what it was, or what it could do. I never wanted —” Her voice cracked, making her unable to finish.

But she didn’t have to, because Jaren was right in front of her now, whispering too as he asked, “Then why have you been blaming yourself for what happened?”

Kiva couldn’t stand to look into his tender, understanding eyes, knowing her heart wouldn’t handle what was sure to come once the shock of his near-death experience passed and he remembered everything she’d done, everything she was. Her lips wobbled as she said, “I told her about the Royal Ternary. You lost everything because of me.”

“Zuleeka didn’t give a damn about the Royal Ternary,” Jaren said. “You heard her that night — she’d always planned to get the Eye and use it on me. That was her goal. And she herself admitted that she’d been planning to take Evalon for years without knowing about the Ternary. The information you shared just gave her an added incentive to speed up her timeline.”

“It also gave her the means. Everything she did —”

“Was what she did,” Jaren interrupted firmly. “Zuleeka’s actions were not yours. Her choices were not yours. That night, your sister would have killed me if not for you. You saved my life. Why do you keep making yourself the villain in your own narrative?”

The question echoed in Kiva’s ears, but she couldn’t stop shaking her head, tears blurring her vision. Words were beyond her now, but Jaren wasn’t finished. He reached out to touch his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head back until she had no choice but to look at him, his gaze steady on hers as he asked in a quiet voice full of meaning, “When are you going to see that I don’t blame you for what happened that night?”

“You do,” Kiva croaked, unable to let him forget. “You do, and you should.”

“I was angry,” Jaren said, still quietly. “I was hurt. And you were the easiest person for me to take that out on. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry. But what I told you in the desert wasn’t true. And what you said when you were on angeldust —” This time it was his voice that cracked, his expression ravished, as he whispered, “Not once, even on my worst days, did I hate you. Hearing you say that, knowing you didn’t want to live —”

The haunted look returned to his face. “I felt like I was being stabbed in the heart all over again.”

Even seeing the truth of his declaration, Kiva was too scared to believe him. “But I lied to you,” she whispered, her tears trickling steadily now, mixing with the sprinkles that were falling heavier around them. “You said — You said you fell in love with a lie.”

Jaren shifted forward until he was all she could see. “I did fall in love with a lie, but that lie was you. I fell in love with you, Kiva. I am in love with you. Then and now, nothing about that has changed — except now I know the real you.”

Kiva couldn’t listen, his words hurting too much. “Please, stop —” She held out her hand to keep him away, needing to remind him that he was wrong, needing to protect herself from the dangerous hope unfurling within her, like a flower opening beneath the sun. But there wasn’t enough room between them, and he grasped her fingers, pressing them to his chest, his strong hand covering hers.

“I was never angry that you lied to me,” Jaren said softly. “I was angry because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.” His eyes were locked on hers, everything he was feeling clear for her to see. “Caldon knew all your secrets, and he still loved you. You never gave me that chance. After everything we’d been through together, you still didn’t trust me. That’s why I was so upset. Not because of everything else beyond your control, not even because of the mistakes you made. But because you never really let me in. I gave you every part of me, and I thought you gave me every part of you, but the whole time, I didn’t even know who you really were.”

Upon hearing his declaration, the ground shook beneath Kiva again, but it wasn’t the mountain this time. It was from the realization that she had a decision to make. She could keep running away from him, guarding her heart so as to never risk such pain again. Or she could give Jaren what he’d just given her: the truth, messy and broken as it was.

Inhaling shakily, Kiva made her choice.

“You did know who I was.” Her voice was so choked that it was a wonder he could hear her. She stared at his hand covering hers and forced herself to go on, “You knew me better than I knew myself. I was dead for ten years, and you breathed life back into me. You saved me. You freed me.

You made me. And in showing me who you were, in sharing your family and your kingdom and your life with me, in sharing your heart with me, you gave me the strength to carve my own path.” More tears fell as she

made herself look into his emotion-filled eyes and continue, “You’re right — I should have told you about me. But it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.

You made it impossible for me not to trust you. It’s just — I thought if I told you the truth, that I was torn between my family and yours —” Her voice broke, and she rasped, “I was afraid I would lose you.”

Jaren’s gaze was so intense that it almost burned, but she didn’t look away as she pushed aside the last of her fear to declare, “You helped me realize what I wanted, just by being you. You gave me the courage to say no to my sister and the rebels.” Her entire body was trembling now, but she made herself whisper, “I chose you, Jaren. I will always choose you.

Because I love you, and I —”

Kiva didn’t get to finish before Jaren’s lips slammed down on hers, swallowing the rest of her words.

A surprised sound left her, but then her mind caught up to what was happening, urging her to hold on to him with a desperation that was rivaled by the force of his own embrace.

The kiss wasn’t gentle — it was fierce and bruising and full of everything they’d both repressed for weeks, for months. Kiva wound one hand around his back, sliding it beneath his pack, while the other moved up into his rain-damp hair, holding his face to hers. She couldn’t stop a sob from leaving her when they broke for air, too overwhelmed by all she was feeling, but then he was kissing her again, his tongue darting into her mouth, causing her to whimper against his lips. Her knees buckled, and he took her weight, their kiss deepening even further. A moan left him and slid down her throat, causing tingles of awareness to flood through her. Warmth pooled in her stomach, fire blazed across her skin, her body coming to life beneath his hands. She never wanted to let him go, she wasn’t even sure if she could — But then a loud boom of thunder sounded, breaking into the haze of their passion. They both glanced upward, neither having noticed that the rain had begun to fall in earnest, soaking their clothes and dripping down them to the rocky salt at their feet.

Kiva was panting, her fingers still tangled in Jaren’s now-mussed hair, her other arm wrapped around him like her life depended on it. She stared at him, still dazed, seeing a reflection of that in his expression, with him looking back at her as if — as if — “You really don’t hate me, do you?” she whispered tremulously.

A soft laugh left him, the sound so light that new tears touched Kiva’s eyes, the gaping hole in her heart beginning to stitch seamlessly back together.

“No, sweetheart,” he whispered back, kissing the tears from her cheek.

His lips remained against her skin as he murmured there, “I really don’t.”

She couldn’t help it — right there in his arms, she began to cry, her shoulders shaking, her chest heaving as everything flooded out of her in deep, cleansing waves. She was aware of Jaren rubbing comforting circles into her back, of the soothing words he murmured into her ear. But that wasn’t what she wanted from him. Breathing his name, she tilted her head up, and he was instantly there, his mouth taking hers again, tender, loving, everything he was, everything he’d always been.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his lips, needing to say the words, needing him to know she meant them. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more apologies,” he whispered against her mouth.

“But I —”

He kissed the protest right off her lips, making her forget what she’d been about to say — making her forget her own name. His joy, his forgiveness, his love — that was all Kiva knew, her heart so full that it hurt, the pain beautiful and perfect and unending.

But then another rumble of thunder came, followed by a flash of light, and they couldn’t ignore the danger anymore.

Jaren tore his mouth from hers, his eyes glazed and heated, his face flushed, his breathing heavy. But he managed to come back to his senses faster than Kiva, and linked their fingers, saying, “We need to get to the cave.”

Kiva marveled at the feel of his skin against hers, his easy, willing touch, hardly daring to believe this was real. But when she looked at him, she found the truth staring back at her, right there for her to see.

He didn’t hate her. He didn’t blame her.

He loved her.

Just as he’d said.

“Truly, as much as I want to continue this —” Jaren’s voice was husky, his eyes darkening as he stared at her lips. “And trust me, I really, really do —”

Thunder crackled across the sky again, followed by another flash of light, closer now.

“We’re sitting ducks out here,” Kiva finished for him, not needing any more prompting. It took a mammoth effort, but she somehow set aside everything that had just happened and tugged him forward as the heavens opened, the rain suddenly pouring down in sheets, limiting their vision and making it impossible for her to hear anything, even her own thoughts.

They sprinted blindly forward, putting distance between them and the crevice, slipping and sliding on parts of the salt mountaintop where thin layers of moss had grown, now slick from the rain. By some miracle they managed not to fall, closing the distance between themselves and the cave with every step, lightning now beginning to streak continuously around them.

But finally, they made it, leaping through the entrance to the cave just as a bolt of lightning struck the mountain, near enough for Kiva to feel the static on her skin, her hands slamming over her ears at the deafening crack of thunder that accompanied it.

“That was a bit too close,” Jaren murmured, panting hard.

Kiva couldn’t respond, too busy trying to draw air into her lungs.

When she eventually stopped wheezing, she swiped hair from her face and frowned down at the water cascading off her body, unable to keep from stating the obvious: “I look like a drowned rat.”

Jaren’s lips twitched. “Maybe a little.”

He, of course, still managed to look as perfect as always, even dripping a river’s worth of water. It was painfully unfair, she thought, scrunching her nose at him.

Jaren chuckled and reached for her, the intent in his eyes saying he couldn’t care less how wet they both were, or even that they’d finally reached their destination. She knew they should be looking for the ring, but with the storm raging outside, they wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

They had time. They could take this moment to enjoy each other, they could — Kiva’s thoughts halted when she saw the blood on his hand.

“What happened?” she asked, taking his palm in hers and moving closer to the cave entrance, seeking the light so she could inspect the wound.

“It’s nothing,” Jaren said. “The edge of the crevice was sharp, that’s all.”

Kiva thought back to how he’d helped pull himself up — he’d been hurt the whole time since then, and she hadn’t noticed.

She looked at him now, having to make another decision. This one should have been easier, given everything they’d just gone through, and the declarations they’d made to each other. But nerves still tumbled in her stomach as she held his eyes and summoned her magic, the golden glow appearing instantly, lighting the cave and flowing softly from her into him.

Kiva wanted to look away, afraid of what she might see in his expression. It was irrational; he knew she had healing magic — he’d watched her practice it for weeks. He’d helped her practice it. But using it on him, for the first time since the night she’d saved his life . . . It was

irrevocable proof of who she was.

A Corentine.

His once sworn enemy, turned traitor to her own bloodline.

She had no idea how he would react, whether he would suddenly realize what she had feared for so long: that there was no hope for them, the

challenges against them too great.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, Jaren cupped her face with his free hand, her golden glow like a halo surrounding them both as he whispered a single word: “Beautiful.”

Kiva closed her eyes and swayed toward him, unable to bear up under the weight of her emotions. She felt his lips press against her forehead, a gentle, tender brush, just as she sensed her magic fading, his wound now fully healed. Only then did she open her eyes, seeing the affection shining clear in his expression.

“So beautiful,” he murmured again. But this time, there was no golden light. He wasn’t talking about her magic now — he was talking about her.

His face softened as he saw the realization hit her, as he watched something settle deep within her, the final broken pieces of her sealing back together, healed by a different kind of magic that could only come from him. A quiet sigh left her and she leaned forward, tucking her face into his neck and just holding him as the storm continued outside, neither of them needing more than that, the simple, heartfelt embrace comforting them both after so long apart.

They didn’t move for a long time — long enough for the thunder to fade and the rain to ease, even if it was still falling too heavily for them to risk the descent just yet.

But regardless, Kiva eventually made herself pull away and say, “We should probably look for the ring.”

Jaren exhaled and nodded his agreement, loosening his hold but staying close as they turned and squinted into the darkness of the cave, moving forward together.

“I don’t suppose you noticed any luminium torches in our packs?” Kiva asked, the light vanishing the further they moved from the entrance.

“None that I saw,” Jaren answered. Dryly, he added, “Wouldn’t it be great if one of us had magic that glowed?”

Kiva flushed and immediately summoned her power again, ignoring Jaren’s quiet laugh as she held out her palm, illuminating the space around them.

The cave wasn’t deep; if not for the storm, they wouldn’t have needed help from her magic, but it kept them from tripping over the uneven ground as they headed toward the back wall. There they found a hollow carved into the rock, at the center of which was Sarana’s earth ring resting at stomach- height, the emerald glinting as Kiva’s glow reached it.

Her skin prickled when she noticed an unnatural bluish light contained within the hollow, reminding her about the ancient Mystican who had spelled it safe. Navok never would have been able to steal this ring, Kiva realized, not without a Vallentis and a Corentine together. But that didn’t matter. She still knew it was best for them to have all four in their possession. And now that Kiva and Jaren were back to being . . . Kiva and Jaren . . . nothing had changed about her wanting to return his magic. That was still her priority, even if it was no longer needed for his forgiveness.

“Do we just . . . grab it?” Kiva asked, eyeing the blue light with trepidation.

Jaren took her hand in his. “Only one way to find out.”

Together, they moved their arms forward, their fingers passing into the hollow without resistance, allowing them to collect the ring and pull it back out again.

Kiva shifted nervously, waiting for a sign that what they’d done would leave them trapped or cursed or something equally troubling. But nothing happened.

“That was easy,” Jaren noted, sounding as relieved as she felt.

Even so, Kiva snorted. “Sure, if you forget the climb, the crevices, the multiple near-death experiences, and the storm — not to mention all the emotional drama.”

Jaren’s mouth quirked up at the edges. “Emotional drama?”

Kiva waved a hand between them. “What would you call it?”

Amusement lit his face. “I didn’t realize we were giving it a name. But how about That Time on the Mountain When You Finally —”

Kiva pressed her hand over his mouth. “You’re right, no name needed.”

He kissed her palm, his eyes dancing. The sight made warmth bubble within her, and she released a soft, dreamy sigh.

But then she pulled herself together and said, “It smells awful back here. Let’s find a comfortable spot — with better airflow — while we wait for the rain to pass.”

They headed back to the cave mouth and tossed their soaked packs aside before sliding down to sit against rock wall. It was natural for Kiva to lean into Jaren, for his arm to curl around her, for them to sit like that for a long time, staring out at the rain in comfortable silence.

But it was just as natural for her to eventually look up at him, to see his eyes already on her, and then, whether she moved first or he did, for their lips to find each other again. There was nothing frenzied about their kiss this time, just a slow exploration, tender and sweet. They weren’t in a hurry, and by unspoken agreement, they kept things from becoming too heated, neither wanting to rush into anything, especially in a smelly cave at the top of a mountain. They had time now — an entire future ahead of them.

That thought made Kiva sigh dreamily again, before she rested her head on his chest, his arms holding her close.

“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

“All good things,” she said, sounding as dreamy as her sigh.

Jaren’s body shook with humor beneath her. “Any specifics?”

Kiva saw no reason to hide it from him, not after everything they’d gone through that day. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.”

He made a humming sound of contentment. “And what do you see?”

Kiva kissed his chest, over his heart, and repeated, “All good things.”

This time his chuckle was audible. But then he sobered and said, his voice hesitant, “You once told me that it was your dream to study at Silverthorn Academy. Was that — Did you mean that?”

Kiva closed her eyes, realizing that, while he might have forgiven her, there were still layers of trust they needed to rebuild. She burrowed deeper into him and said, her voice quiet, “Aside from hiding my family and my magic, everything else I told you was true. So yes, in an ideal world, where Zuleeka and Navok don’t exist, where you never lost your magic and your

kingdom, where everything is sunshine and daisies — in that world,

Silverthorn is part of my dream.”

“Part of?” Jaren repeated.

Kiva rolled her eyes, knowing what he was really asking, but also grateful that his hesitation had vanished. “You might have a role in it, too.

Maybe.”

A laugh huffed out of him, and he kissed the top of her head. “That’s good to hear, since you’re also in my dreams of the future. It’d be uncomfortable for us both if you’re imagining someone else.”

Kiva snickered, but cuddled him even closer, her heart full to bursting.

“I think we both know there’s no competition.”

Jaren made another contented sound, but then his voice turned serious as he said, “Speaking of the future . . . we should probably talk about

Zuleeka.”

Kiva tensed. “What about her?”

The hesitation was back when Jaren answered, but it was a different kind of hesitation now. “Tilda . . . Galdric . . . everyone has been saying you’ll have to confront Zuleeka, that you’re the only one who can. Even I told you that’s what I expect — and like everything else I said in the desert, I shouldn’t have made you believe that. It was unforgiveable of me to put that on you.”

Kiva’s brow scrunched. “What are you talking about?”

Quietly, Jaren said, “She’s your sister.”

When he offered nothing else, Kiva replied, “I’m aware of that. What’s the problem?”

Jaren shifted beneath her, before saying, with deliberate care, “Tor and Zuleeka are the only family you have left. If you don’t want to face her, if you can’t handle the idea of using your magic against her . . . I’ll understand. We all will. None of us will make you do anything against your will. We’ll find another way.”

With each word out of his mouth, Kiva’s tension had grown — and then dissolved.

“Thank you for saying that,” she said, somewhat hoarsely. “It means a lot.”

Jaren relaxed again. “We’ll figure something else out,” he told her, kissing her forehead. There wasn’t a trace of anger or frustration or disappointment in him, just complete understanding.

But Kiva shook her head, because she wasn’t finished. “That means a lot,” she repeated, “but Zuleeka needs to be stopped. And if my mother thought I was the only one who could heal the darkness out of her, then I have to try.” She thought of all the people she loved, knowing they’d be in danger as long as Zuleeka remained a threat, and added, “I’ll never be able to live with myself if I don’t.”

“But she’s your sister,” Jaren said again, softly.

“She was, once,” Kiva said, remembering the child she’d known over a decade ago. That girl was gone, replaced by a hard young woman who had no qualms hurting people. Even Kiva and Tor — her own family. “I don’t know who she is now, whether she’s been corrupted by dark magic or if her actions are more willful and deliberate than that. But either way, the power she has is too dangerous. I can’t ignore that — and I won’t.” Kiva fidgeted with a seam over Jaren’s rib cage as she added, “Though . . . no one has said what happens if I do manage to heal her. I’m not — I don’t —”

“No one expects you to harm her,” Jaren said quickly, his arms tightening in comfort. “Once her dark magic is gone, your part will be done.

We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Kiva nodded her gratitude, not letting herself consider what Zuleeka’s future might look like. Everything she’d told Jaren was true, but it still pained her to think about the sister she’d once loved.

She might be our sister, but actions have consequences, and one day soon she’s going to learn that.

Kiva remembered Torell’s words from early in their journey, his unwavering sense of justice soothing something inside her. Zuleeka’s fate would soon be decided, and when it was, Kiva would not only accept it, she would be a part of it.

And for the first time, she finally felt ready.

She’d escaped Zalindov prison, not once, but twice. She’d overcome an angeldust addiction, pulled herself out of the deepest darkness, and found the will to continue living. She’d battled in a Jiirvan arena and killed a woman, the horror of the experience having scarred her — but it hadn’t

broken her.

And Zuleeka wouldn’t break her either.

Kiva’s fears remained strong, especially knowing the power her sister wielded, but Kiva was powerful, too. And she would fight with everything she had, give everything she had, because her friends were counting on her.

And when the time came, she would not let them down.

Resolved, Kiva embraced her mental reckoning, feeling it solidify within her. Not wanting — or needing — to discuss Zuleeka anymore, she flattened her palm against Jaren’s hard stomach and said, “Speaking of

sisters . . .”

He tensed beneath her.

Carefully, so carefully, Kiva went on, “Have you thought about what will happen when you see Mirryn? After what she did . . . I know that must hurt — I know that does hurt.”

Jaren closed his eyes slowly and nodded. “I always knew there was an element of jealousy there, but I never imagined . . .”

When he looked at Kiva again, the emotion in his expression made her blink back tears.

“The worst part is, I understand why she did it,” he went on. “The way I feel about you . . . if she feels even a fraction of that toward Serafine . . .”

He trailed off, then said, quieter, “I just wish she had told us about Navok’s demands, and about her own bitterness, rather than betray us. We could have talked about it, come up with a solution together, but now . . .” He sighed. “What happens to her is out of my hands. Mother’s, too. Mirryn committed treason — if we manage to reclaim Evalon, then the Royal Council will decide her punishment, and we’ll have to abide by it.”

Hearing the heartache in his voice, Kiva hugged him tighter, knowing exactly how he felt. Both of their sisters had made choices, and assuming all went as planned, both would have to pay for those choices. But that didn’t mean it would be easy — for any of them.

“Gods, why are families so difficult?” Kiva mumbled.

Jaren gave a light chuckle — it was weak, but it helped break the weighty feeling that had descended upon them both. “That’s a question for the ages.”

Kiva copied his sigh and sought distraction by pulling the amulet free of her clothes, playing with the smooth edges and jagged gemstones. Eager to change the subject — for both their sakes — she looked at the ruby, topaz, and emerald quadrants, and said, “We have three of the rings now. That means only one left.”

Jaren murmured his agreement, reaching for the leather pouch he carried the rings in and handing it over without being asked. He then began

to absentmindedly trace patterns on her arm, as if he couldn’t bear to not be touching her.

Even with the barrier of her clothes, the sensation was almost enough to distract Kiva, but she made herself focus and share something that had been on her mind for a while. “Do you think it’s strange that Sarana sent the rings away without telling anyone in your family?”

Jaren’s shoulders shrugged beneath her. “It’s possible she did and it was forgotten over time.”

Kiva turned the pouch in her hand and then upended the contents into her palm. “Torvin’s dagger — the Eye of the Gods — was passed down through my family. My grandmother knew about its true power. My mother and Zuleeka, too. That knowledge wasn’t lost to time.” She frowned at the rings. “Ryuu and Thembi, Sibley, even Issa — their ancestors all made sure they knew what had been entrusted to them. I can’t help wondering why Sarana didn’t ensure the same for her own heirs.”

Jaren shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’d also like to know why none of our so-called allies ever mentioned anything, even in passing.” He paused. “I’m assuming it must have been part of the instructions they were given — that we could only reclaim the rings without prompting. But still . . .” He blew out a breath. “It would have been nice to know about the Hand before we actually had need of it.” His voice lowered as he added, “Just as it would have been nice to know that the dagger my family possessed wasn’t the real Eye. That wasn’t the most delightful of surprises.”

His tone was wry and held no trace of pain, but Kiva closed her hand around the rings, her attention diverted now as she softly asked, “Do you miss it?”

“The Eye?” Jaren asked, sounding puzzled.

She was about to tell him no, but he went on before she could.

“I went through Ashlyn’s possessions when Cal and I arrived at Highworth Keep. The blade she has there looks exactly the same as the Eye.

A perfect replica, just like the ceremonial one I wore for official events. The resemblance is astounding. But I didn’t want to keep it, if that’s what you’re asking. I saw no need, with it not being the actual Eye.”

Kiva shook her head. “No, I meant your magic. Do you miss it?”

She didn’t know why she was asking — of course he missed his magic.

But she wanted to know every part of him, even the parts that hurt.

Especially those parts.

He turned silent, considering his answer. All the while, he continued tracing patterns on her arm, as if it were equally soothing to him.

Finally, he admitted, “I struggled at first. The early days were the hardest. It was like I had a phantom limb — my mind told me I still had magic, even if every time I tried to use it, nothing happened.”

His hand moved then, trailing softly up over her shoulder until his fingers began playing with her hair. “Believe it or not, you actually helped me, in a way.”

Kiva started, and swiveled to look up at him. “Me?”

“Cal told me about your power, how you’d repressed it for a decade, terrified of what would happen if someone realized what you could do,”

Jaren answered, his voice contemplative. “It made me realize how fortunate I was to have had such freedom. That day we went to Silverthorn together and visited the children — I’ve been able to do things like that my whole life.” Sadness touched his face then, but his gaze remained focused on his fingers in her hair, as if he couldn’t quite look at her as he shared, “That’s what I miss the most. Not the battle training or even the everyday uses my magic had, but the ways it could bring joy to others. Like what my mother did at the River Festival, and what the rest of my family does at the other seasonal celebrations — it requires so little effort on our end, but to our people, it means everything. So giving that part up has been hard. And also —”

He broke off quickly, as if regretting what he’d been about to say.

“Also, what?” Kiva gently urged.

It took a full minute before Jaren answered, still avoiding her eyes as he said, “You already know the reason I was named my mother’s heir is because I can wield all four elements. Could wield them,” he corrected, uncomfortable. At Kiva’s encouraging squeeze, he went on, “If we manage to reclaim Evalon, the Royal Council will most likely strip me of my title as crown prince. And I already mentioned how Mirryn will be charged for her role in everything. So that means Oriel will have to be named Evalon’s heir.”

Kiva’s arms tightened around Jaren, hearing his sorrow. But his next words surprised her, because he wasn’t upset for himself.

“Ori is so young,” Jaren said mournfully. “The decision will take the rest of his childhood away. There’s so much he’ll need to learn, most of

which my father helped me navigate, but now he —” Jaren stopped to clear his throat, his voice rough with renewed grief as he said, “Now I’ll have to help Ori. And I will — of course I will. I just wish that burden didn’t have to fall to him.”

Kiva’s heart ached for Jaren — for so many reasons. “I’m sorry about your father,” she told him softly. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

Jaren rested his lips against her temple and said back, just as softly, “I’m sorry you were sent back to Zalindov. When I saw you that first night at Stoneforge and Cresta told us where you’d been, what Zuleeka and Mirryn had done, how Rooke had allocated you to the tunnels . . .” He trailed off, shuddering.

“I survived,” Kiva said, not wanting to talk about it, partly because the memories still haunted her, but also because she could see how distressed Jaren was at the thought of her being back there. “But about your magic and Oriel — there’s something you keep forgetting.”

She opened her palm for him to see the rings she still held.

Jaren caught her eyes then, his like a stormy sea. “I know you want to use the Hand on me, and believe me, if it truly does what Galdric claims, then I want that, too. But I just — I don’t want to get my hopes up. For now, I need to focus on what I do have, not on what I don’t. If I get my magic back, then I’ll be forever grateful. But in case that doesn’t happen . . .”

He trailed off again, but Kiva didn’t need him to finish. She could understand his hesitancy, could even respect it. But she also knew that, despite him coming to a place of acceptance, it still pained him that his magic was gone, in ways she hadn’t considered. Not once had she thought about his title and how his lack of elemental power might affect his right to rule. In knowing that now, she was even more determined to help restore what he’d lost. While she was sure Oriel would make a good ruler, especially with Jaren’s patient guidance, there was no doubt in her mind that Jaren was born to be king. That was his future — and she was going to do everything in her power to make sure that came about.

“You have your thinking face on,” Jaren said, touching a finger to the crease in her brow. “Do I want to know what’s going through your mind right now?”

Kiva grinned. “Probably not.” He would learn soon enough — once they had the final ring. Just one more city, and then he would have his magic back. She had to believe that. She had to hope, even if he couldn’t.

A sudden absence of sound made Kiva look out the cave mouth, where she saw the rain was finally easing. It had to be midafternoon; there was no way they would make it down the mountain by nightfall, but if they reached the tree line by then, the danger of falling into a crevice would be gone.

And once they made it to their horses, the lower part of the trail would be much easier, even in the dark — though she would still use her magic to light the way. While Kiva was tempted by the idea of having Jaren to herself all night, she wasn’t keen to sleep in the smelly cave, especially with the temperature already dropping. Better for them to try and return to Lyras, especially before they lost any more light.

Jaren seemed to be of the same mind. “I think maybe we should —”

He was cut off when a wall of air slammed into them from the cave’s entrance, prompting him to pull Kiva closer, shielding her with his body.

But as quickly as it had come, the wind was gone.

Both Kiva and Jaren scrambled to their feet, looking at each other in

bewilderment.

“What was —”

Kiva didn’t get a chance to finish before Ashlyn stepped into view, her face pale.

“Ash, what —” Jaren began, but his cousin spoke over him.

“Navok’s anomalies are in Evalon. They’ve surrounded Vallenia — and they’re about to attack.”