The Blood Traitor (The Prison Healer, #3) — Chapter no 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Navok had come.

That was all Kiva could think as she and her friends galloped the remaining distance to Vallenia, before tearing through the city streets and along the winding River Road at a harrowing pace, urgency thrumming them forward.

Ever since they’d learned that the Mirraven king was on his way, Kiva had prayed they would arrive before him, if only to be one step ahead before he ordered his anomalies to attack. But her hopes had been in vain.

And now, not only did they have to get the final ring, but they would also have to face both Navok and Zuleeka.

At least the anomalies weren’t attacking the city — yet. Only the palace was under fire, and the closer they moved to it, the more Kiva could see that the flames were contained to the barracks, the stables, and the grounds — on both the eastern and western sides of the river. Despite that, the streets of Vallenia were mayhem, with citizens screaming and running as far as they could from the center of the city. Kiva, Jaren, Naari, and Cresta were the only ones foolish enough to be riding toward the danger, but they didn’t stop, pushing their horses faster until they finally reached the palace gates.

There was no one guarding them — and they were sealed tight.

Jaren cursed as they all quickly dismounted and rushed forward for a better look through the cast iron fence. Their view revealed a large portion of the extensive gardens bordering the path up to the palace, and while normally those gardens were perfectly manicured, right now they were in shambles. The earth was shifting and cracking, the plants unnaturally overgrown, many places raging with fire, others being lashed by river waves — and in the middle of it all were guards and anomalies fighting ferociously with both magical and mundane weapons.

Kiva recognized the dark armor of Evalon’s soldiers and the silver of their Royal Guard, even the gray leathers worn by Navok’s anomalies — and by his Gray Guards too, since not everyone fighting for Mirraven was using magic. There were no soldiers from Caramor, thanks to the

dissolution of their alliance, but Kiva’s relief was brief, and it fled entirely when she spotted people dressed in everyday clothes. Her heart clenched when she saw the figure leading them, right in the thick of the battle, his sword raised as he roared instructions that she was too far away to hear.

Torell.

He’d rallied the rebels. And with him, fighting back-to-back, was Rhessinda, her braided ashy hair swinging wildly as she defended herself and her general.

Kiva wanted to tear through the fence and run to help them, but she knew she would be useless in large-scale combat, only getting in the way.

That knowledge solidified as she watched Tor swing and parry and push back the Gray Guards, as he ducked and dodged magic from the anomalies, reminding her he was capable of handling himself. But still she longed to pull him to safety. He would never let her, though. She knew her brother — he would always fight for what he believed in. And right now, he was fighting for Evalon.

No — he was fighting for the Vallentis family.

Because there was Ashlyn, battling mere feet from him, her pale armor covered in mud and blood as she swung a sword in one hand and threw magic with the other, sending Gray Guards and anomalies flying, her loyal soldiers equally unflinching against their supernatural opponents.

“We need to get in there,” Jaren said urgently, his knuckles white on the iron. “We need to help them.”

It took everything in Kiva to say, “We can’t — we need to get inside the palace. Our priorities haven’t changed: the rings, Navok, Zuleeka.”

“If we take Navok down, his anomalies will have no reason to fight,”

Naari said, watching the battle, her features grave. “Kiva’s right — we can’t lose time helping them. We need to head straight for the palace.”

Cresta waved to the mess of bodies and magic. “How do you plan to get through that?”

Jaren’s tension was palpable, but he tore his eyes from the fight. “We don’t go through it.” His gaze dropped to the ground. “We go under it.”

Understanding hit Kiva, and she breathed, “The tunnels.”

Only Cresta seemed confused, but she didn’t ask questions as they remounted and raced to the hidden entrance at the rear of the palace. They had to leave their horses there, with Kiva giving Zephyr a quick, grateful pat before lowering herself into the iron grate. The secret passage was

pitch-black, just like the last time she’d traveled down it, but she swiftly called her magic to light their way.

None of them spoke as they ran along the narrow path and reached the fork Kiva had once taken to spy on the Royal Council. They didn’t venture that way, instead continuing upward, ascending the steep, rocky steps until they finally exited through the creaky door leading into the larger underground thoroughfare that passed beneath the river, connecting the two sides of the palace.

There they paused, breathing hard and looking at each other in question.

“Where to now?” Cresta demanded, peering left and right along the luminium-lit, pillared space.

“We need to find Mirryn,” Kiva panted. Jaren could fight well with his blades, but he could do so much more with his magic. Navok’s anomalies were acting out of desperation — they’d lived in peaceful villages for most of their lives, and regardless of whatever training they’d undergone after being conscripted, they weren’t equipped for battle, given what Kiva had seen aboveground. If they’d known how to use their powers effectively, they would have been slaughtering Ashlyn’s soldiers and Tor’s rebels with a wave of their hands. Instead, they’d been floundering, the damage real but trivial in comparison to what it could have been. Jaren, however, had spent his entire life training his magic in battle scenarios. Kiva had seen him down in these very tunnels, practicing against his family. If she could return his powers, then he could — “But where is she?” Cresta asked through gritted teeth. “And don’t forget Navok. I need to —”

“This way,” Jaren interrupted, running forward again, heading west.

Kiva doubted he had a plan other than to get them aboveground, but she said nothing and just bounded after him, aware that Cresta’s patience was wearing thin. She wasn’t sure why the ex-quarrier was so on edge and could only assume it had something to do with their Zalindov days and the redhead’s overzealous thirst for violence. Cresta needed to be part of the battle, not watching from the sidelines. But Kiva knew they wouldn’t be remaining that way for long. Because as soon as Navok realized they were there . . . as soon as Zuleeka realized they were there . . . and specifically, that Kiva was there . . .

Cresta would have her chance to fight; Kiva was sure of it.

Sprinting to the end of the tunnel, the four of them ran up yet more stairs until they were finally aboveground again, in the shining white and gold entrance hall of the western palace. But before they could make it any further, the ornate front doors burst open, and Eidran and Captain Veris stumbled backwards through them, fighting off six gray-clad opponents, none of whom, thankfully, appeared to have any magic.

Jaren, Naari, and Cresta lunged forward, unsheathing their swords and jumping straight into the fray. Kiva barely had time to blink, let alone consider how she might help, before all six Gray Guards were on the ground. She didn’t look at them as she moved stiffly to join her friends, her healer’s compassion at war with her logic, even if she knew there was nothing she could do for them now.

Veris was panting fiercely, but he still managed to bob his chin in a short bow toward Jaren. “Your Highness, General Ashlyn said you were on your way.”

Eidran’s chest was heaving as he looked at Jaren and reported, “The anomalies’ training is limited, but their numbers are overwhelming. And they came with an entire legion of Gray Guards. We won’t be able to hold them off for much long —”

That was all he managed before more gray-leathered warriors flooded through the doors, weapons raised, the battle outside now feeding into the palace.

Jaren shoved Kiva back just as two men roared and charged toward him.

He dispatched them with ease, before taking on two more, all while Naari and Cresta fought fearlessly beside Veris and Eidran. But no matter how many Gray Guards they brought down, still more appeared through the doors.

“Where’s Navok?” Cresta shouted to the captain, barely audible over the sounds of crashing steel and pained groans.

Veris didn’t question who she was, only yelled back, “Last I heard he was locking Serafine in the library, but that was a while ago — he could be anywhere now!”

Cresta grunted as she kicked a man in the chest, sending him flying.

Before anyone could stop her, she bolted out of the entrance hall — not through the doors to the battle on the grounds, but deeper into the palace.

“Cresta!” Kiva screamed after her, incredulous. Did she really expect to find Navok in the multi-floored labyrinth of the palace? There were two

sides, for everworld’s sake. As Veris had said, the Mirraven king could be anywhere. And even if Cresta did find him, what did she intend to do? He would almost certainly be surrounded by anomalies — she wouldn’t even get close to attacking him.

But as much as Kiva feared for her foolish, headstrong friend, she was now also concerned for the rest of them, since still more warriors were pouring through the doors, and this time there were magic wielders among them. Unable to just stand there and watch, she rushed forward, scanning the ground for a fallen weapon. But before she could make it two steps, the marble tiles cracked open under her feet and she had to scurry backwards again.

“Where’s my sister?” Jaren yelled to Eidran, hacking at the vines trying to creep up his legs.

“Queen’s chambers,” Eidran called back, flinging a dagger toward a fire elemental, his aim lethal. “She’s unguarded, but —”

He didn’t finish before he was thrown across the room by an air anomaly, who Naari immediately turned her attention to, cutting the woman down before she had another chance to use her magic.

Eidran shook himself off and leapt back into the fray, just as Jaren ran out of it, dashing over to Kiva and tugging her behind a pillar, momentarily

hiding them from sight.

“We need to go,” he said, panting.

Kiva took in the war zone happening around them and shook her head.

“They need you here.”

“But —”

“I can’t help with this fight,” Kiva cut him off, “but I know how to get to the queen’s chambers. Eidran said Mirryn is unguarded — I’ll be fine. I can do this.” Her pulse spiked at the thought of going on alone, but they would only be apart for a few minutes, and what she’d said was true — he was needed here, and she was not.

Jaren glanced at their struggling friends, before turning back to her, his eyes conflicted. But he finally nodded and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the leather pouch containing the first three rings and pressing it into her palm. “Get the Signet, then come find me.” He leaned in and gave her a fierce, desperate kiss, before pulling back again and ordering, “If Zuleeka comes out of hiding, you run. You don’t face her without us there to back you up, understand?” He didn’t wait for her to agree before he

touched the amulet at her chest. “And whatever you do, don’t take this off.

Mirryn is worse with a blade than you are. As long as you’re wearing this, she won’t be able to hurt you.”

Since the amulet was still imbued with Caldon’s and Ashlyn’s magic, Kiva knew it would keep her safe from anything but water. She wasn’t afraid of facing Mirryn, but as she stared back at Jaren, her courage wavered at the thought of leaving him, however briefly. She didn’t fear for herself, but she did fear for him. And not just him — there was also Naari and Eidran and Veris, who were fighting just beyond the pillar; Torell and Ashlyn and Rhessinda, who were outside battling on the grounds; and Cresta, who had vanished to gods knew where. Kiva’s only relief was that Caldon, Tipp, and Galdric were still making their way to Vallenia, safe from the innumerable enemy that the rest of their friends were facing. But that wasn’t enough to calm her, not when everyone else was in such imminent danger.

“Go, Kiva,” Jaren said softly, seeing the worry growing in her eyes. He kissed her once more, the barest of lip touches. “Go.”

With that, he turned and ran straight back into the fight, where even more Gray Guards had arrived, but so too were there now more silver- armored Royal Guards to help balance the numbers. Regardless, Eidran, Veris, and Naari were being swarmed, and Jaren immediately dove in to aid them.

Kiva allowed herself two seconds to watch his sword fly, seeing how capable he was even without his magic and telling herself that nothing would happen to him, nothing could happen to him, before she spun on her heel and sprinted away.

She barely noticed the white and gold hallways blurring by, the portraits on the walls, the statues standing at attention, focused only on racing as fast as she could along the lengthy palace corridors and up the red-carpeted staircases. Higher she rose, her lungs screaming with every floor she passed, until finally she was bolting along the passage she needed, the gilded doors of the queen’s chamber now in view and coming closer with every step.

Kiva paused only long enough to shove them open, sending them slamming back against the walls as she bounded straight through.

But what she saw on the other side had her staggering to a halt.

“What?” she breathed, the word more a gasp given her heavy panting.

Slower now, Kiva moved further into the room, peripherally aware of the familiar opulence surrounding her, the high ceilings and lush carpets, the lavish fireplace and the crystalline piano, the full windows that looked straight out at the gardens — which were still raging with the battle — and the river, right where the bridge spanned between both sides of the palace.

But Kiva barely noticed the room or what was happening beyond it; her attention was solely on the three people draped across the queen’s red velvet couches.

Kiva hadn’t known what to expect upon her arrival — she’d assumed she would find Mirryn alone and had planned to wrestle the ring from her.

What she hadn’t imagined was that not just Mirryn, but also Ariana and young Oriel would all be in the room — and she certainly hadn’t anticipated that all of them would be asleep.

Except . . . that wasn’t what this was. Because as Kiva edged closer, she could see the black shadows swirling around them.

Zuleeka’s magic — just like the unnatural coma forced upon Naari.

Kiva shuddered at the reminder of how powerful her sister was, but she pushed her dread aside and hurried toward Mirryn. As she passed Oriel, she leaned down to check his pulse, only to jump back again when Flox leapt out from behind a cushion, the normally placid silverbear hissing and swiping at her.

“Easy, boy,” Kiva said, retreating from his sharp teeth and claws. “I’ll free them in a minute.” First she needed to take advantage of Mirryn being unconscious.

Closing the distance between them, she looked down at the golden- haired princess, belatedly realizing that something must have happened between her and Zuleeka if she’d ended up on the wrong side of Zuleeka’s magic. So much for them being equal partners — equal queens.

Despite her curiosity, Kiva couldn’t spare a thought to that now, and reached for Mirryn’s hands, searching, searching, searching.

But the princess wore no ring.

In desperation, Kiva patted down her clothes and checked the pockets of her blue gown, but there was nothing, making Kiva curse with awareness that she now only had one option — she would have to wake Mirryn and ask where it was. If Zuleeka had taken it . . .

Don’t think about that, Kiva told herself, not needing another reason to panic. Instead, she summoned her magic and sent it into the princess,

focusing on banishing the shadows and reversing Zuleeka’s power. She then guided her healing light toward Ariana and Oriel, unwilling to leave them cursed for a moment longer.

It was a mistake, Kiva knew, as the shadows evaporated.

Not because Mirryn was now blinking and sitting up, nor because the queen and her son were doing the same. But because, after days of hard travel with limited rest, Kiva hadn’t realized how low her energy had dropped. And using that much magic at once, even if it had come easily to her — She swayed on the spot and flung a hand to her forehead.

Kiva couldn’t remember the last time her power had taken so much out of her. Ever since she’d learned to fuel her magic with positive emotions, it had become nearly effortless for her, barely a drain, only making her tired after the longest of training days. But now she was feeling it.

And with Zuleeka still at large, it was the worst possible time for Kiva not to be at full strength.

It was too late to take it back, though, so Kiva spent a moment breathing deeply and assessing how she felt, relieved to find it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. She couldn’t explain it, but it was as if she could feel her magic replenishing itself, almost like it knew the threat she would soon be facing and wanted to be ready. She might have wept, if she weren’t so aware of the three stunned royals in the room, all of whom were staggering to their feet.

“Mama!” Oriel cried, stumbling toward Queen Ariana with a much happier Flox in his hands. His mother pulled him close as he burst into tears, the tender action enough to steal Kiva’s attention for the barest of seconds.

But then she turned back to Mirryn, who was standing shakily before her, looking nothing like the haughty, imperious young woman from all their previous interactions.

“What are you doing here?” the princess breathed. Her blue eyes flicked to the windows and widened when she saw what was happening on the grounds. “What’s —”

“Where’s the Royal Signet?” Kiva interrupted.

“I — what?” Mirryn’s face was pale as her gaze snapped back to Kiva.

Something came over her then, and she lurched forward to grab Kiva’s hands, saying with urgency, “I tried to stop her, I swear I did. I made a mistake — the worst mistake I’ve ever made. But when I tried to fix it —

when we tried to fix it” — her eyes filled with tears as she glanced toward her mother and brother — “Zuleeka was ready, and she attacked us before we could use our magic on her. I tried — we tried —” She released a broken sob. “Please, Kiva, you have to believe me. I made a m-mistake.” Another sob left her, tears now trickling down her face as she whispered, “Navok p- promised I could be with Serafine. He lied. Everything I did, everyone I h- hurt, was for nothing.”

Kiva didn’t know how to feel about the princess’s heartache — or about her seemingly genuine remorse. A part of her couldn’t help softening toward Mirryn, especially because of her own terrible mistakes and the guilt she’d carried for so long. But Kiva was also aware that now wasn’t the time for them to be discussing this.

Prying her hands from Mirryn’s fierce grip, Kiva looked from her to where Ariana and Oriel were still standing together, both visibly shell- shocked, before saying, “We can talk about that later, but right now, Navok is here. The palace is under attack.” She gestured toward the windows and the battle raging on the grounds, the fires having spread, the earth more cracked and flooded than ever, with armored bodies warring — and many lying still. “I don’t have time to explain why,” Kiva went on, “but I need to know where the Royal Signet is.”

“I have it,” Ariana said instantly. She didn’t ask questions, not even to confirm whose side Kiva was on, indicating Mirryn or Zuleeka must have already shared where Kiva’s loyalties lay. Instead, all the queen did was hold up her hand, revealing the ring sitting on her finger.

Kiva’s knees nearly buckled. In that moment, she realized Mirryn’s remorse hadn’t been an act — if she’d given the Signet back to her mother, then that meant Zuleeka no longer had possession of the whole Royal Ternary, nullifying the clause that allowed her to keep the throne.

But considering everything, Kiva doubted anyone cared about the ancient law anymore.

Shaking off her thoughts, she moved straight to Ariana, pulling the other three rings out of the leather pouch until they tumbled onto her palm.

The queen’s sapphire eyes widened, the shock, the awareness telling Kiva that Ariana knew exactly what they were — and what they could do.

But before either could demand an explanation from the other, Galdric strode through the doors to the queen’s chamber, his eyes shifting from

Kiva’s palm to the queen, whose hand was still in the air, the four rings visible for all to see.

His weathered features stretched into a grin. “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Kiva gaped at him, failing to grasp how he could be there. He was meant to be resting near Oakhollow — or at the very least, slowly making his way to the city. Perhaps stashed away in whatever safe place Caldon found if they’d made good enough time. Anywhere but walking into the queen’s chambers, as if he’d known exactly where Kiva was. But she didn’t get a chance to ask how any of that was possible, because more people stepped through the doors, at least a dozen, all in gray leathers, none of

them bearing physical weapons.

Anomalies.

And behind them was King Navok, sauntering into the room to stand beside Galdric, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face.

But Kiva didn’t care about Navok.

She didn’t even care that he and Galdric were smiling at each other, not as a king and his once-prisoner, but in a way that told her they weren’t enemies at all — and perhaps never had been.

Instead, the only thing Kiva cared about was Tipp.

Because Navok was holding the young boy close — With a dagger pressed to his throat.

“Tipp!” Oriel cried, dropping Flox and lunging toward his friend, but Ariana hauled him back, right as Navok’s anomalies came on alert.

“Uh-uh-uh,” the king tutted to all three Vallentis royals, tightening his grip on Tipp. “My personal guards are trained to kill without hesitating. You so much as try to summon your magic, and they’ll take you down without a thought.”

A quick glance, and Kiva knew Navok wasn’t lying — these anomalies were different from those outside. Their motives were unclear, their intentions dark and deadly. She knew that, because Xuru was among them, the fire wielder looking at her with anticipation in his black eyes.

Kiva’s pulse began to pound in her ears as she turned back to Tipp, taking in his red, puffy face, and the tears streaming down his cheeks. It wasn’t fear in his expression — it was something much worse.

Devastation.

Anguish.

Grief.

Seeing all that, Kiva’s blood turned cold. Because she knew — she knew — there was only one reason for him to be looking at her like that.

She held his eyes and croaked out, “Where’s Caldon?”

Fresh tears fell as Tipp opened his mouth and uttered two quiet, broken

words: “He’s d-dead.”