The Blood Traitor (The Prison Healer, #3) — Chapter no 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

For a moment, Kiva heard nothing except the ringing in her ears. She was aware of Ariana turning white and Oriel going limp in his mother’s arms, of Mirryn’s hands covering a horrified gasp. But all Kiva could do was stare at Tipp, seeing the confirmation in his swollen red eyes.

“I’m afraid the boy is correct,” Galdric said, unaware that she had stopped breathing, stopped thinking. “It was really too easy — I can’t believe any of you bought my exhausted act. As if I wouldn’t have made sure I had enough energy to windfunnel the entire way here and then still have power to spare.” He snorted mockingly. “The moment you and the others left, all I had to do was moan, and the arrogant prince came running to check on me. He never even saw my blade coming.”

Kiva shook her head.

No.

She refused to believe it.

Caldon was strong — he was one of the strongest people Kiva knew.

He’d survived stab wounds before. She’d stabbed him once, and he’d been fine. She had to believe — “Granted, it was only a shallow wound —”

Kiva nearly collapsed from relief.

“— but there was enough necros venom lacing the tip to bring down an entire army.”

The ringing returned to Kiva’s ears, louder this time, her vision blurring

with it.

Necros venom — from a necros adder.

A single bite could kill a full-grown adult.

In seconds.

“No.” This time she said the word aloud, her voice unrecognizable. “I don’t — I don’t believe you.” She was trembling all over, her body reacting to what her mind refused to accept.

“That doesn’t change the truth,” Galdric said, shrugging. “The prince is rotting in a ditch right now.” A laugh left him as he pointed to Tipp. “This

one tried to shove water down his throat, even as he choked on his last breaths. Water! As if that was going to do anything!” Another laugh. “So much for all the years he spent as your assistant. The boy clearly has a lot to learn. But in his defense, nothing short of your magic would have saved the prince — there’s no cure for necros venom in all of Wenderall.”

More tears rolled down Tipp’s face, but Kiva’s eyes remained dry. Not because she didn’t feel like joining him, but because she couldn’t. What she felt was too much, too consuming, the thought of Caldon being dead — A sob left Ariana, reminding Kiva that Caldon’s family was standing

right there.

But she couldn’t think of that.

Couldn’t think of him at all, rejecting what she’d just been told, ignoring the truth in Galdric’s gloating smile, the agony in Tipp’s eyes.

Instead, she welcomed the numbness spreading through her veins, knowing it was all that kept her from crumpling to the ground. Through stiff lips, she rasped a single word: “Why?”

“Why did I kill the prince?” Galdric asked, before carelessly answering, “One less Vallentis brat to get through. You gave me the perfect opportunity when you asked him to stay behind. Thank you for that — as I said before, you made it too easy.”

Kiva didn’t let his words penetrate, not that they could have made it through the ice overwhelming her entire body.

Caldon was dead.

Caldon was dead.

Even through her numbness, Kiva could still feel her heart cracking in her chest.

But somehow, she forced out, her voice hoarse, “No — why all this?

Why are you here with Navok?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Galdric answered, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve been playing you from the very beginning.”

Kiva flinched, even if she’d already come to realize as much.

“I loved your mother — I never lied about that,” Galdric said, his tone softening, before it hardened again. “But when she started having second thoughts, when all she could think about was freeing you to heal Zuleeka, when she began to wonder if her own bloodline even deserved to rule, that was when I knew — the rebels were always better off with me as their leader.” His face darkened. “My family has served the Corentine bloodline

for centuries, all the way back to Torvin’s era. But of all the generations, I was the one who unified the rebels, I was the one who found us a willing heir of royal blood. And your mother was willing — until she wasn’t. She cared too much for her family. That was her weakness. And her undoing.”

Kiva swallowed at the look in his eyes, but Navok spoke then, sounding bored.

“Can we hurry this along?” He pressed his dagger deeper into Tipp’s throat until a drop of blood appeared on the blade, causing the young boy to wince and Kiva’s stomach to lurch.

“Patience, my friend,” Galdric said. “She deserves to understand.”

“We’re not friends.” Navok’s light brown eyes flashed. “And I don’t care what she deserves. You can give her the full bedtime story later.”

Galdric sighed, then turned back to Kiva and said, his words faster than before, “Everything I told you was true, how Tilda went to Navok to make a deal. But I didn’t follow her out of loyalty, or even out of love. I followed her because I intended to make my own deal.”

Kiva’s hands were fisted now, the rings cutting into her palm, her focus shifting between Galdric and Navok.

“I’d heard how interested Mirraven’s new king was in magic, so I went there to bargain with him, offering information about the Hand of the Gods,” Galdric explained. “He’d already made his agreement with Tilda, and thus already intended to get you out of Zalindov, wed you, and use you against Zuleeka, but now he had a new reason: that being, only you can use the rings.”

“Yes, yes,” Navok said, impatient. “We made a deal: Galdric would act like my prisoner, and you would free him — don’t look so surprised, you’re too predictable. It was easy to rough him up a bit, and even easier to make you think I was trying to stop you from escaping, when really that was the plan all along.” His voice turned bitter. “Though even I can admit I didn’t realize Ashlyn had infiltrated my palace. She’ll pay for that soon.”

Navok glowered at the carpet, but then his face cleared as he continued, “After you freed Galdric, he was to tell you about the rings and how desperately important it was for you to keep them away from dangerous little me.” The king’s smile was a slash of teeth. “He was then to help you collect all four of them, with his reward being that you will use the Hand on him first while my army wipes the Vallentis family and their loyal soldiers off the map, leaving the throne open for the true rebel leader to take the

crown. Without a Vallentis or a Corentine to rule them, Evalon’s citizens will bow down to any king with elemental magic — and thanks to you, he’ll have that magic.”

“That’s our bargain,” Galdric told Kiva. “Both of us get magic, but I get Evalon, while Navok gets the rest of Wenderall, taking one kingdom at a time, building his anomaly army as he goes.”

“And I get one more thing, too,” Navok said, his eyes snaring Kiva’s.

“After destroying your sister, you will rule by my side. I have an agreement to keep with your mother, after all. Not even I would risk breaking a deal with the dead.”

Kiva was breathing heavily, disbelief giving her the courage to demand, “Why would I help with any of that? You can’t force me to use my magic.

You can’t make me —”

Galdric interrupted, his voice knowing, “Because you have the same fatal flaw as your mother: you care too much about your family.”

Tipp cried out then, as Navok’s blade dug deeper, the blood no longer a drop, but a smear.

“NO!” Kiva cried, rushing forward, but she stopped at the warning look in Navok’s eyes.

“There are four people in this room who you care about enough to not want to see them dead,” the king said. “We will go through each of them if we must. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go after him.” His gaze flicked to the window, and Kiva looked out, doing a double-take when she saw the gilded bridge that had been empty before, but was now covered with Gray Guards and anomalies, with only a handful of silver Royal Guards and black-leathered soldiers barely managing to hold them off. As she watched, a wall of water rose from the Serin and slammed into half of them, causing warriors from both Evalon and Mirraven to tumble straight over the railing, while others merely paused their attacks to brace, before continuing on with even more fervor.

All of that, Kiva took in within the space of a blink, because it was the person fighting at the center of it all who captured her horrified notice, right where Navok had indicated.

“Jaren,” Oriel whimpered, seeing his brother for the first time in over three months.

Kiva had thought she couldn’t feel any worse after seeing Tipp with a blade at his throat, after hearing that Caldon was —

No.

She slammed down on that thought, knowing she couldn’t deal with it on top of everything else. For now, she had to live in denial. Caldon would be the first to tell her to concentrate on the challenge in front of her, and anything else could come later.

Her fear, her panic, her dread — that was what had to hold Kiva’s attention right now, none of which she’d thought could possibly become

worse.

Until she’d seen Jaren on that bridge.

Because at the eager look in Navok’s eyes, Kiva knew exactly what he would do if she didn’t obey.

One by one, she would be forced to watch everyone she loved suffer and die until she gave Navok and Galdric what they wanted. She would never survive the guilt, the heartache. But she also knew that if she did obey, if she used the Hand to give them magic, if she chose the people she cared about over the entire kingdom, the entire continent . . . nothing would

be able to stop them.

And that would be her fault.

“It’s all right, Kiva,” Ariana said, barely a whisper. “Sarana knew this might happen one day. Everything will be all right.”

Kiva only shook her head miserably, because Ariana was wrong — nothing about this was “all right.” But when she turned to the queen, expecting to see a reflection of her own dismay, all she found was an unnatural calm in Ariana’s eyes, almost like the queen was trying to send her a message, but Kiva couldn’t understand what that message was.

With their gazes still locked, Ariana pulled the Signet off her finger and

held it out.

Kiva stared at it like it was a snake.

“Take it,” Galdric ordered, stepping closer.

Navok remained where he was, his hold on Tipp unyielding, his

anomaly guards close at his sides.

Kiva didn’t take the ring.

Couldn’t take the ring.

But then Tipp cried out again, and the cut on his neck grew deeper, blood now dribbling slowly down his collar.

Kiva snatched up the ring.

“Wait, it needs her magic first,” Galdric remembered. To Ariana, he said, “You know what to do. But don’t think of trying anything else. Just the ring.”

The queen nodded and reached out to touch the band. There was no large gem like the others in Kiva’s palm; instead, the gold was stamped with the Vallentis crest — the identifying mark of the Royal Signet — and embedded with tiny blue sapphires that Kiva had never noticed before, all of which came alight with Ariana’s magic before they faded once more. The whole time, the queen continued to hold Kiva’s gaze, speaking to her without words.

But Kiva still didn’t know what she was saying.

Until Ariana’s gaze shifted, for the briefest of seconds. Barely a flicker of movement, not enough for anyone else to see, but enough for Kiva’s own

eyes to widen.

Sarana knew this might happen one day.

Thoughts and memories and questions slammed into Kiva, Ariana’s words holding new meaning now, even if she hardly dared to believe, hardly dared to hope.

“You know what to do, Kiva,” Galdric said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Put the rings on and push your magic into them — and then into me. That’s all it will take. As easy as breathing.”

Right now, Kiva was struggling to breathe at all, so his statement meant little. But she continued holding Ariana’s steady eyes, her reassurance strong and unyielding, causing Kiva’s confidence to grow even as her heart thundered behind her rib cage.

“If you don’t put those rings on in three seconds,” Navok drawled, “I’m going to need a new hostage.”

Kiva’s pulse skipped, and at Ariana’s quick nod, she put the rings on.

Ruby. Topaz. Emerald. Sapphire.

The Hand of the Gods.

“Incredible,” Galdric breathed, staring at her fingers.

He reached for her, and she recoiled, but he didn’t let her escape, taking her wrist and pressing her palm to his chest.

“Do it,” Galdric ordered.

Kiva resisted.

“Do it, or the boy dies,” Navok threatened.

But it was only when Ariana whispered, “Do it, darling,” that Kiva listened.

Praying she had read the queen right, that her own questions and suspicions from the last few weeks held merit, Kiva sucked in a breath — and summoned her magic.

The moment the golden light appeared in her hand, the rings came to life, the healing glow shining fiercely through them, creating a kaleidoscope of color — red, white, green, and blue. It was so bright that it lit the whole room, a rainbow blaze that Kiva had to shield her eyes from. Her fingers burned, the pain surprising and alarming. She would have yanked her arm back, if not for Galdric holding her palm forcibly against his chest, refusing

to let her go.

And then it stopped.

The pain vanished, the colors disappeared, and Kiva carefully released

her magic, the glow fading once more.

“Did it work?” Navok demanded.

“I — I don’t know,” Galdric said, his brow furrowing.

“Shouldn’t you feel it?” the Mirraven king asked. “Try summoning something. Fire, air, water, earth. Do something.”

But when Galdric concentrated, nothing happened.

He turned furious eyes on Kiva. “What did you do?”

“Exactly what you asked,” she said, her fear ratcheting up again at the murderous look on his face.

“You’re lying. You must have —” He broke off suddenly to glare at Queen Ariana. “You,” he spat. “You know something. Sarana was your ancestor — tell me how to make it work.”

Ariana looked terrified now — on the outside.

But Kiva could see the triumphant light in the queen’s eyes, something only visible because she was looking for it.

“Answer him,” Navok said, “or I’ll have my anomalies turn your children to dust.”

Ariana blanched, her expression making Kiva worry for a moment that she might have misread the queen earlier. But that same light was still in her eyes, the only reassurance Kiva had.

“You have to put the rings on,” Ariana told Galdric, her voice almost too shaky. “They needed to be imbued with both Vallentis and Corentine magic, but you have to physically wear them in order for her healing power

to transfer the elemental power into you. That’s how the Hand works — you have to be the one wielding it.”

Galdric’s zealous eyes returned to Kiva. “Give them to me.”

Kiva did so, praying, once again, that the queen knew what she was doing.

One, two, three, four, Galdric placed all the rings on his fingers, staring down at his hand before looking back at Ariana. “Now what?”

The queen immediately stopped shaking, her lips tipping up into a sharp, deadly smile as she said, almost sweetly, “Now you get to meet

Sarana and Torvin.”

Galdric frowned and opened his mouth — But the only thing that came out was a scream.

The rings had caught fire, the flames blazing up his arm to cover his entire body.

It lasted all of five seconds, the ancient magic powerful and near- instant, before both Galdric and the rings were nothing but ash.

Kiva stood there, staring down at the pile of gray on the carpet, certain she was going to vomit.

But she didn’t have time, because Navok roared, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

And then all hell broke loose, since Flox decided that was the moment he was going to protect his charges, the silverbear leaping forward to sink his teeth into Navok’s leg.

The Mirraven king yelped and automatically used his dagger to swipe at the creature — but in doing so, Tipp became free.

Which was what Ariana had been waiting for.

“NOW!” the queen yelled, and suddenly, water, wind, and earth were erupting in the room, with her own magic along with Mirryn’s and Oriel’s shooting straight for the anomalies.

Kiva acted instinctively, using the chaos to lunge forward and grab Tipp, hauling him backwards to duck behind the crystalline piano. From there, she peered out to see the anomalies returning fire on the Vallentis royals, ice spearing through the air, marble falling from the ceiling, wind tearing through the room. Xuru was throwing his flames with abandon, causing the carpet and couches to catch alight, the smoke cloying even after Ariana’s water snuffed the blazes out.

All the while, Navok continued slashing uselessly at Flox, who was bounding between his legs and attacking with claws and teeth, the image of which would have been hilarious if the room hadn’t been exploding around them.

Kiva realized then: the Vallentis royals had been biding their time until Tipp wasn’t at risk of Navok’s blade, and now they had been unleashed.

Even against an overwhelming number of opponents, they were a force to be reckoned with, having trained their whole lives for a magical battle like this, just like — Jaren, Kiva realized. She had to get to him. But first — “Ariana!” Kiva cried, waving to the queen, who had been forced to the far side of the expansive room, where she was holding ground in front of the fireplace.

The monarch was surrounded though, too distracted to hear Kiva’s call.

Oriel, however, was close enough to come running, and he dove behind the piano with them, wide-eyed but still sending his magic out to help his family.

Knowing what she had to do, Kiva looked at Tipp, holding his scared eyes as she ordered, “Don’t move from this spot, do you hear me? Not until it’s safe.”

At his immediate nod, she looked to the young prince and begged, “Look after him.”

“I will,” Oriel promised solemnly, before lobbing a boulder at an anomaly who had noticed them hiding and was headed their way. The rock struck the man hard in the head, taking him off his feet — and he didn’t get up again.

Kiva didn’t linger, rising from her crouch and sprinting across the room.

A gust of wind slammed into her, but it did nothing, the magic in her amulet protecting her. But then a wave of water came from one of Navok’s anomalies, crashing against her and pushing her to the ground. Mirryn was there in an instant, tugging her up and throwing out a hand, sending the anomaly flying.

“All right?” the princess asked over the sounds of shattering glass and cracking walls.

“I need to get to your mother,” Kiva choked out, drenched and coughing.

“I’ll cover you,” Mirryn said, propelling Kiva forward.

Running again, Kiva dodged as much of the magic as she could, aware that she couldn’t risk the amulet becoming depleted. Not if it was what she thought it was.

Finally arriving across the room, she sought shelter behind a crimson chaise next to the fireplace where Ariana stood tall and proud, fighting anomaly after anomaly, even as more poured into the room from the hallway.

“It was never the rings, was it?” Kiva called to her, remembering the queen’s words — Sarana knew this might happen one day — along with the single flick of Ariana’s eyes, when her gaze had moved downward for the

briefest of seconds.

Toward the amulet.

“It was, once,” Ariana panted as she jumped over a whipping vine before slicing it in half with an ice blade. “But instead of giving them away, Sarana had replicas made, a dead-man’s trap should anyone seek to use them. She melted the real rings down, keeping them in our family to protect us in other ways.”

Kiva touched the amulet, her suspicions proving true: she’d been wearing the Hand of the Gods all along.

“Does it still work?” Kiva asked. She’d never once tried to push her magic into the Vallentis crest, had never even considered it. But if it wasn’t the Vallentis crest, if it really was the Hand . . .

Ariana dodged a javelin of flames and threw a spear of water back, before kneeling beside Kiva and pressing her finger to the sapphire, the gem glowing blue as she sent her magic into it, completing the protective power of all four gemstones.

Still panting, the queen said, “It will work, but only once. Sarana knew melting the real rings down would mean diminishing the Hand’s power, but she considered that safer than risking it falling into her enemy’s hands.”

Ariana’s eyes held Kiva’s as she declared, “You have one chance. Make it count.”

And then the queen was up again, meeting the attacks of two more anomalies.

Kiva didn’t wait to see them fall — she was already running from the

room.

You have one chance. Make it count.

The words echoed in Kiva’s ears as she bolted out the doors and along the white and gold corridor, hearing Navok’s thunderous shout as he bellowed her name. She nearly lost her footing when she realized he was chasing her, and peered over her shoulder just in time to see Xuru launch a fireball her way. It slammed into her from behind, her vision turning red and orange before the amulet sucked the flames harmlessly away.

Kiva didn’t look back again. On she ran, never slowing, not even as the fire kept coming, along with water and wind and earth from more of Navok’s personal guards. But the amulet protected her from every attack — their magic couldn’t touch her.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t scared out of her mind. But still, she ran, the entrance to the bridge coming into sight, with it extending from the same floor as the queen’s chambers, a straight shot across the river to the

eastern palace.

And then there was Jaren.

Kiva could see him now, a blade in each of his hands as he held off the Gray Guards and anomalies at the highest point of the arched golden bridge.

She couldn’t see Veris or Eidran, and didn’t recognize any of the other Royal Guards or black-leathered soldiers fighting alongside Jaren, though she did see Naari beyond him, nearer to the eastern palace, surrounded by a slew of gray-clad opponents.

Finally reaching the bridge, Kiva flung herself into the mess of bodies, avoiding not only the magic flying everywhere, but also the weapons. The amulet wouldn’t protect her from a blade, but she couldn’t think about that, running, running, running straight for Jaren.

And then a gap opened up, right in front of him. She screamed his name so he knew she was coming, unwilling to risk him thinking she was another attacker as she leapt through the air toward him. His eyes rounded as he caught her, stumbling backwards as her weight slammed into him, somehow managing not to stab her with either of his swords.

“Kiva — what —” he gasped.

She didn’t give him the chance to finish, yanking the amulet from her neck and slamming it against his chest, summoning her magic and pushing it through the crest.

Light, blinding light assailed her eyes, so bright she had to shut them.

Liquid warmth traveled down her arm, like syrup dripping in the sun, pouring from her fingertips straight into Jaren.

A second was all it took before she felt the amulet crack beneath her hand, the light fading enough for her to reopen her eyes and see the crest broken into four parts, one for each of the gems — one for each of the

rings.

You have one chance. Make it count.

The amulet’s power was gone, the Hand of the Gods no more.

But Jaren — The gold in his eyes was blazing as he stared at her, as he realized what she’d done.

Then, with a wave of his hand, three Gray Guards that Kiva hadn’t seen leaping for them went sailing over the side of the bridge.

Jaren looked down at his palm, the wonder on his face enough for a sob

to leave her.

His magic was back.

And not a minute too soon, because Navok had reached the bridge, his personal guards parting the battling opponents, their combined magic aimed right for where Kiva and Jaren stood.

Time slowed down as Kiva watched a wall of flames speed toward them, as she saw a tornado whip the Serin into a bubbling fury that rose like a death wave, as the bridge cracked and groaned under their feet. All the while, she was acutely aware that the amulet could no longer protect her.

But she didn’t need it. Because with another flick of Jaren’s hand, the wall of fire went sizzling into the water tornado, the wave crashed harmlessly back into the river, and the marble beneath them stilled.

While the battle continued across the grounds, silence descended on the bridge as everyone in view — Mirravens and Evalonians — all reeled from Jaren’s effortless defense against the powerful magic.

Only, it hadn’t been effortless.

Kiva was close enough to hear his labored breathing, to feel him shaking with fatigue.

She realized then: his magic might be back, but after being so long without it, he wasn’t at full strength. He needed time to build his power back up. What he’d just done had been instinctive, a reaction based on years of training, but he didn’t have the energy to sustain that kind of magical desperation, especially after having fought nonstop since their arrival at the palace. He was exhausted, which meant both his magic and his body

wouldn’t be able to hold out indefinitely. Another attack like the one they’d just endured . . .

Kiva knew Jaren would give everything to keep his people safe, to keep her safe. But she also knew there was a limit to what even he could give.

Navok seemed to be just as aware, because he signaled to Xuru and the rest of his personal guards to keep them from attacking again, then he stepped into the space they’d cleared. The warring on the bridge remained paused, as if everyone from both sides was holding their breaths, waiting to see what would happen next.

The Mirraven king walked slowly toward Kiva and Jaren, his hair like bronze flames atop his head, his eyes a storm of rage.

Jaren tried to push Kiva behind him, but she didn’t budge. She was the reason for the fury on Navok’s face, the reason he would never receive the magic he longed for, or grow his elemental army. The anomalies he had now were all he would ever have — and they were diminishing by the minute, a quick glance at the grounds revealing them being cut down by the Royal Guard, Ashlyn’s soldiers, and Tor’s rebels. If not for Navok’s Gray Guards defending their magical brethren, the fight would nearly be over.

But there were just too many warriors on Mirraven’s side — and too few on Evalon’s. Even with Ariana and Mirryn having now joined the fight, using their powers to defend and attack, their enemy was still too great.

“Do you see what’s happening here?” Navok called to Jaren, stopping a careful distance away and gesturing toward the war-torn battleground. “It’s only a matter of time before my army destroys yours. With or without the Hand of the Gods, I will take this city, this kingdom, this continent.”

Kiva shivered against Jaren, not just from Navok’s words, but from his certainty. There wasn’t a trace of doubt in his eyes, as if their end was inevitable.

The king gestured again. “Look around,” he said, his rage turning into arrogance. “I made this happen. I killed my own father when he was too weak and spineless to take action, and then I spent the last eight months sending my warriors out to the furthest reaches of Wenderall to build my army of anomalies. I’ve been planning for this day my whole life. And you —” Navok sneered at Jaren, then finished, “Even with your magic, you are but a single ember facing an inferno. You can’t hope to defeat me.”

Jaren’s face was set with determination, but before he could respond, another voice beat him to it.

“He can’t. But I can.”

Kiva stilled at the words — and at the sight of their owner stepping onto

the bridge.

It was Cresta.

At her side was Serafine, the princess’s face splotchy from crying, but there was a wide, radiant smile on her lips, as if she couldn’t contain her joy.

Seeing that smile, Kiva didn’t understand. Nor did she understand why Navok suddenly looked as if he was staring at a ghost.

Cresta’s hazel eyes locked with his as she murmured something to Serafine, causing the princess to nod and disappear back into the palace.

Only then did the ex-quarrier step forward, no one stopping her as she approached the king, halting a few feet away.

Kiva looked between them, her heartbeat turning erratic as her eyes began to see what her thoughts struggled to comprehend: Their identical sharp jawlines. Their long, straight noses. Their wild, rugged beauty.

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.

Cresta just watched Navok, fierce and unflinching, waiting for him to speak.

When he did, his voice was strangled as he rasped out, “You’re supposed to be dead.”

A dangerous slash of teeth stretched across her mouth as she said, loud enough for them all to hear, “Hello to you too, brother.”