Chapter Five
It only took a short journey through the dense Blackwood Forest for Kiva to realize they were heading north, not south. That explained the presence of Mirraven’s soldiers — the wedding must be taking place at Navok’s castle in Zadria, rather than at the River Palace in Vallenia.
Kiva was disappointed — and alarmed — by the discovery, since every mile they traveled was another mile between her and her friends.
So many questions bounced around her mind as they ventured toward the wild northern kingdom. Was Zuleeka already with Navok? When was the wedding? Would Kiva be sent back to Zalindov afterward? If so, how would she escape and make her way back to Vallenia alone?
There were just too many unknowns, all of which occupied Kiva’s mind as the scenery shifted from the lush alpine forests of Evalon into the craggy, barren landscape of Mirraven, becoming a rocky gray wasteland the further they traveled. There was nothing welcoming about this kingdom, but Kiva endured it by reminding herself that every day they moved closer to the capital was a day closer to when she could leave.
For the sake of her sanity, when they stopped each night — usually to camp on the side of the road, or at a tavern in one of the sad little villages along the way — she made sure to do the exercises she and Cresta had disciplined themselves with in the Abyss. The strenuous movements helped keep her thoughts at bay, fighting back the darkness that had overwhelmed her during her early days at Zalindov. She would be no good to anyone, including herself, if she fell back into that all-consuming hopelessness. And with the food the Mirravens were shoveling into her — You’re nothing but flesh and bone, the woman had said with a frown — she was beginning to regain the health she’d lost after leaving the River Palace. She still had a long way to go, but she was determined to be as strong as possible, mentally and physically, for all that was ahead.
As their northward journey continued, Kiva considered what she knew of Zadria and the Kildarion royals. She already knew to avoid King Navok, but his sister, Princess Serafine, was said to be his polar opposite, kindness
epitomized. Then again, she was in love with Mirryn, so that alone made Kiva skeptical about her nature.
Aside from the royal siblings, she knew little else about the family.
Thanks to Navok, their father, Arrakis, was dead, and years previous, their mother was said to have fled, abandoning her two children — with rumor claiming she’d barely left the castle grounds before Arrakis had hunted her down and killed her. That was the extent of Kiva’s knowledge, limited as it was. She also knew nothing about Zadria other than that it was the capital of Mirraven and, being located at the center of the kingdom, was completely landlocked. Despite her unease, she was interested to see how a city might survive in the middle of such a rocky wasteland.
After twelve days of uncomfortable travel, they finally made their approach to Zadria, crossing the last of the desolate, cracked earth before it began to rise in a steady incline. Kiva didn’t hide her curiosity as she pushed the carriage curtains wide, gaping openly at the sight before her.
The city was built into the side of a rugged gray mountain. There were no trees — nothing but rock and stone as far as the eye could see. The sun had already fallen beyond the horizon, so lanterns lit the dark buildings that spiraled all the way up to the top of the mountain. At the peak sat a castle made of blackened stone, more a fortress than a palace.
Kiva’s insides knotted as they approached a fortified wall enclosing the city, easily thrice the size of Zalindov’s limestone perimeter in both height and depth. There were no gates — the entrance to the capital was carved into the wall, which opened slowly like a giant stone doorway once the soldiers on duty approved them for entry.
Goose bumps broke out on Kiva’s skin as the carriage trundled over jagged cobblestone paths, winding ever upward toward the imposing castle.
She tried to look out the window, but it was difficult to see much in the darkness, with the buildings blurring together and any people out braving the bitter cold having the hoods of their thick cloaks raised to cover their heads. If this was summer in Mirraven, Kiva didn’t want to imagine how miserable their winter months must be. She ran her fingers over the travel clothes she’d been given soon after leaving Zalindov — a belted forest green tunic, brown trousers, and a pair of lined boots — and found herself grateful that her guards, surly and silent as they were, had made sure to give her warm blankets each night. Relatively speaking, they’d taken good care
of her — much better than anything she would have experienced at Zalindov.
Kiva’s heart gave a pang at the thought of Cresta still locked away, but she reminded herself that the ex-quarrier had survived five long years, and she would survive a while longer. After the time they’d spent together, she also had to hope that Cresta would believe Kiva would come back for her — that she’d know Kiva owed her that much and would fulfill that debt as soon as she could.
Pushing the redhead from her mind, Kiva grew alert when the carriage reached the highest part of the city and began to slow. She briefly considered throwing herself out the door and making a run for it — surely that had to be better than facing her sister and her soon-to-be brother-in-law — but one look at the keen-eyed woman sitting opposite her, and she knew such an act would be futile.
Kiva gathered her courage as they rode across a stone drawbridge — how they’d dug a moat into the mountain, she didn’t know — and made sure to keep breathing as steadily as possible. Whatever her sister might say to defend herself, nothing could excuse her actions. Kiva would not yield — and she would not forgive. Not unless Zuleeka was willing to give up her stolen crown. And Kiva already knew that was never going to happen.
The carriage finally drew to a halt after passing through two sets of iron gates, stopping at the base of a granite staircase that led up into the castle entrance. Someone stood at the top of the steps, backlit by the strong luminium lights bleeding out into the night, making their face unidentifiable. Their figure, however, was female, causing Kiva’s breath to hitch, but then they moved closer and she could see that it wasn’t her sister, allowing her racing heartbeat to settle again.
I’m not ready for this, Kiva thought, having no idea how she was going to handle seeing Zuleeka after everything her sister had done.
The betrayal.
The death magic.
The angeldust.
The imprisonment.
It was too much.
And yet, I have no choice, Kiva realized, pulling herself together as the female guard opened the carriage door and pushed her out into the cold.
Kiva tripped down the steps and threw a glare at the woman, who ignored her and signaled to the two drivers, plus the other soldiers who had accompanied them on horseback for the journey. After quick nods, the Mirraven escorts continued deeper into the castle grounds, likely seeking the stable complex or barracks.
Now that Kiva was closer, she could see that the land around her was surprisingly flat, as if an ancient god had sliced a blade across the peak, establishing the foundation for a castle with expansive grounds sitting like a crown above the city. If not for her absolute dread, Kiva would have been fascinated and desperate to explore. Instead, nervous sweat broke out on her skin despite the frigid air, the feeling growing when the female guard shoved her toward the staircase.
The woman who had come to greet them had silver hair coifed in a low bun and heavily wrinkled skin. She wore a black dress with a blood-red apron tied around her waist, her expression saying there were a million other things she would rather be doing.
Kiva stepped forward — partially pushed by the guard again — and said, “Um, hello, I’m Kiva Mer — er, Corentine. Is my sister —”
“I’m Madam Merit, head of housekeeping,” the silver-haired woman interrupted. Her voice was lightly accented, her speech trim and formal.
“Welcome to Blackmount Castle.”
Despite her words, there was nothing warm about Madam Merit’s greeting.
“Thank you,” Kiva said, haltingly. “Could you please tell me —”
“If you’ll kindly follow me,” Madam Merit cut her off again, “we’ll get you cleaned up and ready for presentation to His Majesty. No doubt you’re weary from your travels, but he has a busy schedule and wishes to see you before you turn in for the night.”
Kiva’s blood chilled at the thought of meeting King Navok so soon.
She’d hoped to at least talk with her sister first. “I’m sorry, but is Zuleeka —”
“This way, please,” Madam Merit spoke over her, turning and gliding up the staircase into the castle.
Kiva watched, frozen in place, until the female guard said, “You can’t leave the grounds without an escort — you’ll be struck down before you set foot on the drawbridge. That leaves you with two options: you can follow Merit, or I can drag you after her.”
Throwing her an annoyed look, Kiva hurried up the stairs after the housekeeper, noting that the guard didn’t follow. Her threat about the drawbridge must have been real if Kiva no longer needed a babysitter. She might as well have been back in Zalindov, a prisoner once more.
Disheartened, Kiva quickly caught up to Madam Merit and kept a brisk pace with her through the building’s dark interior. Where Vallenia’s River Palace was full of light, with white marble floors and gold trimmings, Blackmount Castle was carved out of obsidian, with silvery luminium threaded into the walls to create an eerie effect, especially with the suits of armor interspersed between the scarlet tapestries and floor runners. It was beautiful — but in an unnerving, haunting way.
Kiva followed Madam Merit up black staircases with silver balustrades and along corridors with artwork depicting gruesome battle scenes. When they finally came to a halt in front of an ornate door, she was hugging her elbows, the ominous feeling of her surroundings bleeding into her soul.
The housekeeper opened the door and ushered Kiva inside, revealing a luxurious bedroom in shades of black and crimson with silver highlights, the colors identical to what Kiva had seen in the rest of the castle. A large bed piled high with cushions sat against one wall, and a luminium chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, casting a welcoming glow around the otherwise dark space. There was no balcony, but heavy scarlet curtains were drawn over three sizable windows. Kiva hoped they’d offer a view down the mountain across the city, and she was eager to investigate — but later.
For now, her attention was pulled toward the sole occupant in the room, a young woman with hair braided around the crown of her head and down one shoulder, the color so fair it was almost white, and eyes such a pale blue that they were nearly silver. She wore an outfit similar to Madam Merit’s — a black dress, hers with laces up the chest, and a blood-red apron strapped to her waist.
“Lady Corentine,” the young woman said in a thick Mirravish accent, approaching Kiva and ducking into a curtsey. “It’s an honor to serve you.”
Kiva barely managed to hide her flinch at the title.
“This is Brynn, your lady’s maid,” Madam Merit said. “She’ll see to your needs here at Blackmount.” The housekeeper turned to the younger woman and ordered, “Prepare her for the king, then deliver her to his receiving room on the ground floor.”
Brynn bobbed another curtsey. “As you wish, madam.”
Without another word, Merit strode back out the door, closing it behind her.
Something eased within Kiva at the departure of the strict older woman, but then Brynn approached, and she braced all over again.
“Come, my lady,” the maid said, placing a gentle hand on Kiva’s arm and drawing her toward another door off to the side of the room. “We’d best not keep the king waiting.”
Kiva followed without protest. “Please, call me Kiva. I’m not a lady.
And I’m definitely not Lady Corentine.”
Brynn blinked, a hint of surprise touching her features. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but you’re royalty.”
“I’m not,” Kiva said quickly as they entered a lavish bathing chamber, the dark, claw-foot bathtub already full of steaming water. “My ancestor was, a long time ago, but he rightfully lost that title when he stopped serving his people and started hurting them.”
The maid’s surprise only deepened. “But your sister is the queen of —”
“She stole what was no longer ours to claim,” Kiva cut Brynn off. She then dropped her shoulders and said, “It’s a long story, and none of it is enjoyable to relive. So please, just . . . if you don’t mind, I’d really prefer it if you call me Kiva.”
Brynn’s silvery eyes locked with Kiva’s for a long time — much longer than Kiva would have thought normal for a submissive maid, especially one at a place like Blackmount — but then a strange light crept into her features, a mixture of wonder and respect, with no small amount of curiosity.
“Very well, Kiva,” Brynn said, prompting a faint smile from Kiva — her first since leaving Cresta twelve days earlier. “Now, please disrobe and get in the bath.”
It was only when Kiva was soaking in the tub a few minutes later, allowing the hot water to ease her travel-stiff body, that she dared ask, “Will I be seeing my sister tonight? Before the king? I’d really — it would be good if I can speak with her first.” Quickly, she added, “Even better, do you know if my brother is here? Torell?” Did he even know where Kiva was — and where she’d been?
Brynn paused her scrubbing of Kiva’s fingernails. “I’ve been ordered not to answer your questions until Navok has had a chance to speak with
you.”
Raising a brow, Kiva repeated, “Navok?”
“King Navok,” Brynn said quickly. “Forgive me.”
Kiva let the maid’s informality slide. “Can you at least tell me when their wedding is?”
There was another pause, before Brynn bit her lip and said, “I’m sorry Lady — uh, Kiva. I don’t wish to speak out of turn.”
Disappointment flooded Kiva, but she understood the maid’s reticence.
“Never mind,” she muttered. “I’ll wait and ask the king.”
That wasn’t something Kiva looked forward to, but she hadn’t traveled this far just to hide in her — admittedly opulent — bathroom.
As soon as Brynn dubbed Kiva clean enough, the maid helped her into a gown made of crimson silk, the outfit much more formal than anything Kiva had worn at the River Palace, aside from the night of the masquerade.
Both the front and back dipped daringly low, and the split up her leg went nearly to her hip, making her itch to hold the two sides together.
“Is there a cloak I can wear over this?” Kiva asked, indicating the amount of bosom and leg on display. Under her breath, she muttered, “You can see the whole of Wenderall in this thing.”
Her last wasn’t said quietly enough, and Brynn coughed to hide her laugh, her silvery eyes dancing. But then she sobered and said, “I’m sorry.
His Majesty requested you wear this.”
The look on her face told Kiva everything she needed to know about the maid’s feelings toward the king, and how he would react if his orders were disobeyed. Despite Kiva’s discomfort, she didn’t want Brynn to get in trouble for something as trivial as a dress, so she adjusted her amulet as best as she could over her cleavage — drawing a curious look from Brynn, who clearly wanted to ask about the Vallentis crest but managed to hold her tongue — and allowed her hair to be styled until it flowed in waves down her back.
Only then did Brynn step back and say, “Beautiful.”
Kiva didn’t feel beautiful. She felt like a spectacle — a barely clothed spectacle — but she nodded her thanks, wanting to get the meeting with Navok over with so she could return to her room and plan her next steps.
Declaring Kiva ready, Brynn led the way out into the castle corridors, beginning a downward spiral. They passed only a handful of people, other maids and manservants dressed in similar black-and-red attire to Brynn, as
well as gray-clad soldiers patrolling various hallways or standing at attention beside closed doors. It was only when they reached a quiet stretch with no one in sight that Brynn spoke.
“Can I ask — that is, if you don’t mind —” she started, then stopped.
“Go ahead,” Kiva invited.
“It’s just — months ago, word traveled around that you survived the Trial by Ordeal and then escaped Zalindov prison,” Brynn said haltingly.
“I did,” Kiva confirmed, “but only because I had help.”
“So — I’m sorry, but how —” Brynn cleared her throat, seeming embarrassed. “I heard that the Gray Guards were sent to retrieve you from there. Is that true?”
The Gray Guards — a fitting name for Navok’s soldiers, Kiva thought.
“It is,” Kiva said. She then answered what Brynn was struggling to ask.
“I’m not sure how much you know about what happened in Evalon, but the night my sister stole the throne, there was a lot of collateral damage. She knew I didn’t approve of her actions and that I would do whatever it took to set things right again, so she and Mirryn Vallentis drugged me and secretly shipped me off in a prison wagon to keep me from helping my friends reclaim their kingdom.”
Brynn’s eyes were wide with shock, and she repeated in question, “Your friends?”
“Jaren Vallentis — Prince Deverick, I mean,” Kiva corrected, her heart hurting just saying his name, “and his cousin, Caldon. Among others.”
There was a long pause as they descended another flight of obsidian stairs, until Brynn asked, “Doesn’t being friends with the princes go against everything your family stands for? The Corentine-Vallentis feud is legendary.”
“I told you, it’s a long story,” Kiva said, unable to hide the pain in her voice. “But Jaren and Caldon . . .” Her throat tightened. “They make it very hard not to love them.”
When Kiva glanced across at Brynn, she found the maid watching her, as if trying to decide whether or not she was lying.
“Trust me,” Kiva said defensively, “if you met them, you’d understand.”
But then she remembered that the princes had visited Zadria for diplomatic purposes in the past, and she asked, “Have you met them? How long have you worked here?”
“Only a few months,” Brynn said. “If they visited in that time, then I didn’t see them.”
Before Kiva could confirm that neither would have been there — they were both too busy dealing with her drama, first in Zalindov and then later in Vallenia — the maid halted before a closed set of double doors with two Gray Guards standing at either side. She shifted from foot to foot, her gaze darting to the soldiers and away again as if she was debating her next words.
Finally, she leaned in close and whispered, “The king is known for his temper. Make sure you curtsey deep and don’t rise until he bids you to do so. Don’t speak without his permission. Don’t hold his gaze for too long, or he’ll think you’re challenging him. Don’t leave without his consent. Treat him as you would a wild animal — one that might turn on you at any moment.”
Kiva had already been nervous about meeting Navok, but now her insides roiled. “Aren’t you coming in with me?”
Brynn shook her head, her expression apologetic. “One of the Gray Guards will escort you back to your room when you’re done. I’ll be waiting for you there.”
That brought Kiva some comfort, but not much. There was something about the maid that she was drawn to, the openness of her features offering a quiet promise that she was on Kiva’s side, that she could be trusted.
But Kiva knew better than to trust blindly. Especially in a place like Blackmount Castle.
“Go,” Brynn urged, signaling to the nearest guard, who knocked on the door and proceeded to open it. “You’ll be all right. Just remember what I said.”
Kiva swallowed, before reminding herself of all that she’d gone through in her seventeen years. She could face a king, even a cruel one, especially if it meant she would receive answers. Temper or not, Navok would soon be her brother-in-law, and he had no reason to harm her. She would meet with him, ask her questions, then leave him to his business.
With her goals set, Kiva steeled her spine and indicated to Brynn that she was ready, before stepping past the guards and entering the king’s receiving room. Inside she found the same black, scarlet, and silver colors from floor to ceiling, with a roaring fireplace drawing her attention to the
far wall. In front of it and facing away from her were two dark velvet lounges, one of which was occupied.
King Navok didn’t turn at the sound of the soldiers closing the doors behind Kiva; all she could see of him was the back of his head, his hair a burnished bronze, streaked liberally with shades of auburn and copper, making it appear as fiery as the blaze in the grate.
Unsure of herself, Kiva hesitated in the doorway.
“Don’t be shy,” Navok called, still without turning. His voice was smooth and cultured, his accent not as strong as the others Kiva had met from his kingdom. “Come closer and let me have a look at you.”
An unpleasant sensation crawled up Kiva’s spine, especially when she recalled how Brynn had said he’d chosen the revealing gown himself. But she made herself walk forward, moving around the unoccupied lounge until she was standing between Navok and the fireplace. Following the maid’s instructions, she kept her eyes averted and dipped into a curtsey, painfully aware of the low cut of her dress and grateful for the Vallentis crest hiding what it could of her chest. There was nothing she could do about the split at her leg, the crimson material gaping to near-indecent levels.
Remembering Brynn’s warning, Kiva maintained her lowered position, gritting her teeth when Navok kept her genuflecting for what felt like an obscene amount of time. She barely kept from shooting him a glare when he finally said, “Rise.”
Kiva straightened, the fireplace at her back close enough for her to feel its burning caress. She didn’t move forward, since that would bring her closer to Navok. Nor did she take a seat on the second lounge, waiting for his permission to do so — permission he failed to give.
When Kiva lifted her gaze to meet his, going against Brynn’s advice, she found his eyes roaming over her, causing her skin-crawling feeling to deepen. But rather than focus on it, she stared right back, fighting to hide her reaction as she took in his black-clothed form lounging on the velvet chaise.
If Kiva had given any thought to what the Kildarion ruler might look like, she would have envisioned angry eyes and hard features, someone who was as unattractive on the outside as he was said to be on the inside. But Navok was . . . not that. Even reclined, she could see he had a strong, healthy physique, with broad shoulders in a muscled frame. And his face —
Kiva pressed her lips together, irrationally annoyed that the cruel northern king looked like that.
His eyes were light brown, bordered by thick lashes, his fiery hair making them stand out in his striking face, his square jaw dusted with auburn stubble. He wasn’t classically handsome — he was something more
than that. Rugged. Wild.
Dangerous.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” he finally drawled, swirling amber liquid in a crystal chalice.
Kiva’s eyes narrowed and she bit her tongue to keep from saying anything that might get her tossed into his dungeon. “Where’s Zuleeka?”
she asked.
Navok didn’t answer.
The bare skin on Kiva’s back was beginning to feel unpleasantly warm, but she remained in place, ignoring the crackling flames behind her. Unable to bear his silence, she pressed, “Can I speak with her?”
That elicited a reaction from Navok, his lips curling with amusement.
“The last time you encountered your sister, she banished you to Zalindov.
Are you so keen for a rematch?”
Kiva crossed her arms, before realizing the move only amplified her cleavage, so she quickly returned them to her sides. “I’m here now, aren’t I?
She had your guards drag me out of prison for your wedding, and I’d like to know why.”
Navok tilted his head to the side, and repeated, “My wedding?”
“Yours and Zuleeka’s,” Kiva said, growing impatient. Unable to rein in her sarcasm, she added, “Congratulations, you’ve found yourself a real catch. When’s the happy day?”
A bark of laughter left the king, the sound causing alarm bells to ring in Kiva’s ears. He placed his chalice on the stand beside his seat and rose gracefully, striding forward until he was right in front of her. She fought the urge to back away, partly because she didn’t want to seem cowed, and partly because she had nowhere to go, the fireplace blocking her escape.
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Navok said, his eyes bright with mirth.
“You really have no idea.”
The alarm bells grew louder, until they were all Kiva could hear. “Tell me what?” she managed to ask, some part of her already knowing, even if she couldn’t believe it — didn’t want to believe it.
“I’m not marrying your sister,” King Navok said, a dark, amused grin stretching across his face. “I’m marrying you.”
