Chapter Six
For a long moment, Kiva couldn’t string a thought together, her mind frozen in the wake of Navok’s declaration. But then everything inside her sped up as panic set in, her heart pounding as she tried to recall the conversation she’d had with Zuleeka in the dungeon beneath the River Palace.
Are you marrying King Navok? Kiva had asked, incredulous. Was that part of the deal?
Mother didn’t know about the Royal Ternary — she didn’t know there might be another legitimate way, her sister had replied defensively, before sharing the plan to ally the rebels with Mirraven’s forces, all to help them conquer Evalon and guarantee a Corentine would sit on the throne — even if that Corentine was married to a Kildarion.
It was only now that Kiva realized what hadn’t been said: Zuleeka had never confirmed that she was the daughter their mother had promised to Navok during her godsforsaken deal. She’d skirted Kiva’s question entirely, offering no clue as to what might await Kiva should the northern king get his hands on her.
“You look shocked,” Navok said, breaking into Kiva’s spiraling
thoughts.
She wasn’t shocked. She was horrified.
“In all fairness,” he went on, “Tilda did come here seeking to unite me with your sister. But I could see her desperation in wanting to reach you, so it didn’t take much for me to uncover her belief that you were the more powerful of her daughters — and therefore, the only one I was willing to bind myself to.” He laughed. “Why in the everworld she thought I’d accept anything but the best, I’ll never know.”
Quick as a flash, Navok reached out and traced his fingers down Kiva’s cheek. She reared away from his touch, moving dangerously close to the fireplace, causing his humor to grow.
Needing some distance, Kiva edged around the lounge, feeling immediate relief now that she wasn’t at risk of catching alight — and now
that she wasn’t so close to the king. To her betrothed.
Gods, she was going to be sick.
“There’s been a mistake,” Kiva said hoarsely. “I’m not more powerful than Zuleeka. Not even close. Whatever deal you made —”
“It’s already done.” Navok waved a dismissive hand, before reclaiming his chalice and taking a sip. “All the arrangements are in place — we’re to
wed in two days.”
Two days?
Kiva swayed on the spot.
Navok prowled close again, moving like lightning to flick the amulet at her chest. “Zuleeka wrote me and said she wishes for you to keep this. A reminder, she claimed. But I don’t obey your sister — and I don’t enjoy seeing you wear my enemy’s crest.” His gaze darkened. “You have until we’re husband and wife, then I never want to see this again. Is that clear?”
Kiva stared at him, unable to process everything — or anything.
Somehow, she managed to croak out, “Is Zuleeka coming for the — for the —” Everworld help her, she couldn’t even say the word, now that she knew her role in it.
Navok smirked. “For the wedding? No. Your sister is in Vallenia, cleaning up the mess she made. Unsurprisingly, she’s having some trouble keeping her new citizens in line. And since I’m sure you’re wondering, your brother has no idea where you are, let alone any knowledge about our upcoming nuptials.”
Kiva’s heart fell at the confirmation, her hopes dashed.
“My sister will be coming here for it, though,” Navok continued. “She’s on her way from Terith with her betrothed, Voshell. I sent her to be with his family for the spring, but they’re due to return tomorrow, just in time to witness our auspicious day.”
Despite everything, Kiva’s brow furrowed. “I thought once Mirryn was queen, you agreed to release your sister from her betrothal so they could be together?”
Navok sipped his drink again, eyeing Kiva over the rim. “Serafine is better off with Voshell.”
Kiva’s eyes narrowed. “You mean, Mirraven is better off bound to Caramor by marriage?”
As much as she hated Mirryn for what she’d done, Kiva still felt a hint of sympathy for how devastated the princess must be, having betrayed her
whole family to be with her love — only for Navok to have reneged on his side of the deal.
The king shrugged his broad shoulders, but his gaze was cunning as he answered, “We are all pawns in the game of life. My sister understands what her value is, just as she knows what her sacrifice will do for our kingdom. Voshell is a weak prince. Serafine is a weaker princess. When they are king and queen, they’ll look to me for guidance; it’ll be as if I’m running their kingdom. Mirraven, Caramor, Evalon — Wenderall’s three largest powers, all under my thumb. The other nations will have no choice but to fall in line.” There was a glint in his eyes, as if he had greater plans than what he was sharing, but he revealed nothing else.
Kiva was so stunned by his intentions that she could only say, “You
don’t have Evalon yet.”
“It’s as good as mine,” he returned.
Kiva doubled down. “Their armies won’t allow an invasion.”
“You forget, your sister rules those armies now. And if they don’t yield to her, then her rebels will clear the way.”
She shook her head. “Jaren and Caldon will stop you. Ashlyn, too.”
Caldon’s sister was the general of Evalon’s forces. From everything Kiva had heard, there was no way she’d allow Mirraven to succeed.
Navok grinned. “I’d like to see them try.”
Kiva changed tactics. “You don’t know Zuleeka. You speak of pawns, but now that she has the crown, she’ll never give it up.”
The dark look in Navok’s eyes deepened. “She won’t have a choice.”
He downed the last of his liquor. “Whether she acknowledges it or not, your sister is merely keeping my new throne warm.”
Kiva snorted. Clearly the king had yet to witness Zuleeka’s death magic.
Once he did, maybe then he would realize he’d chosen the wrong sister to tie himself to.
“I can see this amuses you,” Navok said. “If you think I’m unaware of your sister’s . . . skills . . . then you’re sorely mistaken. But I’m not without my own weapons. One of which is you, my dear bride.”
Any humor Kiva felt vanished at the reminder.
Before she could ask what he meant, he continued, his tone lightening, “Speaking of which, I have a wedding gift for you.”
He curled his fingers around her elbow, herding her forward.
“Come with me,” he said, uncaring that she was trying to tug her way free. “I think you’ll like this.”
Giving her no choice, Navok escorted her from his receiving room, the two Gray Guards who had been stationed outside the doors falling into step behind them.
Kiva still had so many questions, but after everything she’d just learned, her mind had gone blank, switching to survival mode. During their entire walk through the castle and down lengthy stone staircases, she remained silent, gathering her thoughts — and her courage — for whatever the king was leading her toward.
Only when they were deep underground did Kiva begin struggling anew, because she now realized where Navok was taking her.
The dungeons.
“Settle,” he murmured, tightening his grip. “I told you, I have a wedding gift for you. We won’t stay long — once you’ve met him, we’ll leave again.”
Him? Kiva stopped trying to free herself, her curiosity — and her dread — piqued.
After navigating a complicated labyrinth of cold stone corridors and passing numerous Gray Guards patrolling more cells than Kiva had ever seen in one place, including Zalindov, Navok finally came to a stop.
In front of them was a set of rusty iron bars leading to small space lit by a single luminium lantern affixed to the obsidian wall. In the corner of the cell was a thin pallet piled high with raggedy blankets — or so Kiva thought, until those blankets moved.
Suddenly, there was a man forming out of them, standing slowly as he realized he had company. He’d been roughed up by the guards, his weathered face mottled with bruises and swelling, and he was swaying unsteadily on his feet. To Kiva’s relief, there was nothing familiar about him, not his greasy shoulder-length dark hair with hints of gray, nor the unkempt beard that grew on his square jaw. His soulful brown eyes, however, were locked on hers — and wide with shock.
“Kiva?” he rasped, his deep voice barely audible from lack of use.
Unconsciously, Kiva stepped backwards, but she was halted by Navok’s hand.
“Allow me to introduce you to Galdric Shaw,” the king said, his handsome features entertained as he watched for her reaction. “As you may
be aware, he was a close acquaintance of your mother’s. He’ll be able to tell you anything you wish to know about her from the ten years you were parted.” Navok gestured to the bruised man with his free hand. “Consider him yours to interrogate at your leisure.”
Kiva gaped at the man, now realizing exactly who he was — the once- leader of the rebels, her mother’s mentor and friend. She couldn’t believe he was standing before her.
Mostly, because he was meant to be dead.
Galdric was the first to realize she was gone, and he went after her, probably trying to stop her, Torell had said, when revealing how Tilda had snuck out of the rebel camp to head to Mirraven. But he never came back.
All we found was his cloak, covered in blood.
Tor and Zuleeka had assumed Galdric had been killed by Tilda, claiming she wasn’t in her right mind toward the end. But whether or not Tilda had attacked him, he’d clearly survived, after which he must have followed her all the way to Zadria.
Kiva did a quick mental calculation, deducing that Tilda had arrived at Zalindov six months ago. That meant Galdric had been locked in Navok’s dungeon for half a year, presumed dead by the rebels, with no hope of freedom.
“Is it really you?” Galdric croaked out, staggering closer to the bars. His gaze remained locked on hers, and then he whispered, “It is. You have your mother’s eyes.”
All the breath fled Kiva as she realized this man had known her mother better than perhaps anyone. He knew how Tilda had changed from a woman who had never wanted to touch her magic, to someone who had used it freely to heal others, and then to the person who had succumbed to evil and become a monster. He’d witnessed her at every point in the journey. He had answers to questions Kiva didn’t know how to begin asking.
But . . . she also didn’t want to ask anything with an audience present, and especially not with Navok listening in.
“I’d like to speak with him alone, please,” Kiva said, her throat tight.
“Not tonight,” the king said.
He began to pull her away.
“No, wait —”
“Not tonight,” he repeated, his voice firm. “You’ve had a long journey.
Rest up, then you can visit him again tomorrow.”
Kiva looked over her shoulder, finding Galdric’s steady gaze on her as she was towed down the corridor. He didn’t call out, didn’t beg to be released. But there was a promise in his expression.
There was also pain.
It wasn’t from his bruises — it was from seeing her. Whatever he felt when he looked at her hurt him. Whether that was because of what her mother had done, or perhaps because of how much he missed his friend, there was no doubting the connection he shared with Tilda. Nor was there any doubting how much he longed to speak with Kiva.
Tomorrow, Navok had said. She could wait one more day.
But as she was dragged back up the many staircases toward her room, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer than that. Because in two days, she would be forced to marry, and that meant she needed to be long gone from Blackmount Castle before she was bound to its king forever.
