Chapter Eight
Kiva barely had time to spin and duck before Xuru’s magic collided with her, the fireball slamming into her bare shoulder from behind. The damage would have been considerably worse had it hit her straight on; instead, it only glanced off her flesh. But the searing pain came instantly, causing her to scream and curl in on herself.
Her body quaked as she swiveled her neck to inspect the damage, but all she could see was — Kiva gagged at the sight of her scorched, blistering flesh.
“That looks uncomfortable,” said Navok, and Kiva pivoted back to face him, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Heal yourself, and you’ll be all better.”
The agony was enough that Kiva struggled to think, let alone respond.
Through clenched teeth, she bit out, “I can’t, you bast —”
“Do you want to feel that again?” the king interrupted. “Because Xuru can keep going all day.”
The fire-wielding anomaly grinned and summoned another flame to dance between his fingers. Kiva flinched, the motion tugging at both her burned skin and her still-throbbing cheekbone, though the pain in her face was nothing compared to the ache spreading across her shoulder and upper
back.
“If you would just listen —”
“What’s it going to take for you to obey me?” Navok interrupted her again, leaning forward on his throne. He jerked his chin at Xuru and said, “Again.”
The anomaly’s grin widened, and he wound back his arm, preparing to launch the flames toward Kiva once more.
“NO!” she cried, her voice cracking as she raised both of her hands protectively.
“What in the everworld is going on in here?”
At the soft, feminine voice, Xuru peered beyond Kiva and swiftly extinguished his magic. She followed his gaze to find a young woman
striding into the throne room accompanied by a young man, both dressed in elegant travel clothes.
“Nav?” the girl pressed, her auburn hair darker than the king’s and glimmering with sun-kissed streaks, her eyes a calming shade of pale green.
Everything about her was delicate, from her porcelain skin to her pixie-like features.
Her companion was the opposite, though no less striking. His skin was a rich dark brown, his body lean but with clear muscle definition, his black hair cropped short with a gold circlet at his brow. He painted such an alluring picture that, even in her pained state, Kiva had trouble taking her eyes from him.
“This doesn’t concern you, Sera,” Navok replied, proving what Kiva had assumed: the newcomers were his sister and her betrothed.
“Is that the greeting you offer her after months apart?” Voshell asked, his faintly accented voice deep and honeyed — and simmering with anger.
Kiva was surprised; the look on the prince’s face didn’t indicate any of the weakness Navok had implied. Rather, Voshell’s features were hard as he eyed the Mirraven king.
“Don’t bother, Vosh,” Serafine said wearily, laying her hand on his arm.
“I’d rather know what we walked in on when we —” She broke off in a gasp when Kiva turned slightly, unintentionally revealing her burn.
Serafine had been walking casually toward the throne, but the moment she caught sight of Kiva’s wound, she quickened enough that her travel cloak fanned out behind her. She only slowed when she noted the look of fear that Kiva failed to hide.
“It’s all right,” Serafine said soothingly. Once she was close enough, she tried to get a better look at the damage, but Kiva edged away from her, wary
and uncertain.
“Did you do that?”
Kiva thought Voshell’s enraged words were aimed at her, but then she realized he was still glaring at Navok, even fiercer than before.
The king’s eyes flared in warning, but his tone was light, even bored, when he said, “My clumsy bride tripped and fell into a luminium lantern. It looks worse than it is.”
Serafine’s eyes locked on to Kiva’s hot, throbbing cheek and narrowed into slits.
“And what of her face, brother?” the princess asked, her tone still soft, but there was a lethal edge to it that Kiva hadn’t expected. “Did the luminium lantern do that, too?” She indicated the handprint bruise on Kiva’s forearm. “And that?”
Navok’s jaw tightened. “As I said, she’s clumsy.”
Xuru was nodding at his side. Kiva hated them both.
Serafine raised her chin. “Clumsy or not, my sister-to-be is hurt. I’ll see her to her room and make sure her wounds are treated.”
An odd thing happened then: Navok laughed. It wasn’t a humor-filled sound, but something mean and spiteful. It had Serafine visibly tensing, as if she regretted her choice of words.
“Still looking to fill that space, after all these years?” Navok asked in a taunting voice. “I should have known my wedding would bring you more joy than me.” He sent a lascivious look toward Kiva, and added, “Though the wedding night shouldn’t disappoint. At least that’s one thing I can look forward to tomorrow.” A pointed pause. “If I can wait that long.”
It wasn’t just Kiva’s shoulder that was burning now as dread and loathing seared through her veins.
“No one is forcing you to get married,” Voshell told Navok, his mouth twisting with distaste. “And that’s your intended you’re talking about. Have a care with your words.”
Navok sent him a haughty look. “Or what, Vosh?”
The Caramor prince didn’t stand down, as Navok had clearly anticipated.
“Or you and I will have more problems than we already do,” Voshell stated.
The king leaned back in his throne, eyeing his ally thoughtfully. His expression turned calculating as he mused, “It seems something has happened since we last spoke.”
“Indeed,” Voshell said shortly. “We have much to discuss.” His gaze swept the room, from the trembling Kiva to the eager-eyed Xuru, and he finished, “In private.”
Navok’s interest was piqued, even if he couldn’t quite hide his annoyance — whether because he could no longer torture Kiva or because Voshell wasn’t acting like a weak-willed fool, Kiva didn’t know. Nor did she care. Because the longer she stood there, the more her desire to throw up — or pass out — deepened.
Sensing her growing anguish, Serafine turned kind eyes to her and said, “Come. We need to see to your wounds.”
Kiva didn’t dare look back at Navok as the princess carefully wrapped a supportive arm around her waist and led her from the throne room. Every slow step was agony, her shoulder on fire, her face throbbing.
She just needed to make it to her room, Kiva told herself. Then she needed to get rid of the princess. And somehow get Brynn to leave, too.
Then she had to find her way down to Galdric.
And then she needed to escape.
Kiva whimpered at the thought of how impossible all of that seemed without her having become so injured that she could barely walk unassisted.
But she refused to let hopelessness overwhelm her. There was no alternative — she absolutely had to be gone from Blackmount before she was forced to set foot anywhere near an altar.
As they ascended their second staircase, Kiva’s burn became so excruciating that she was desperate for something to take her mind off it, so she said, perhaps unwisely, “I know about you and Mirryn.” When the princess tensed at her side, she went on, more hesitantly, “I’m sorry about Voshell.”
Serafine relaxed again, and sent a small but genuine smile to Kiva.
“Voshell is a good man. I feel worse for him than for me. He deserves someone who can love him in a way that I can’t.”
“You deserve that, too,” Kiva said. Even if she despised Mirryn for her betrayal, she could still understand why the Vallentis princess had allied with Zuleeka. Love made fools of them all.
“Mirry and I . . .” Serafine shook her head sadly. “We’re not meant to be.”
There was a deep sorrow in her voice, one that was mirrored in her expression.
Kiva’s heart went out to her, and she asked, “I heard the betrothal was your brother’s idea. Why go through with it?”
Serafine sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe not,” Kiva said. “But I’d like to.”
If anything, the princess only looked more miserable. “He’s all I have left in the world. If I disobey him . . .” She shuddered slightly against Kiva.
But then something changed in her, as if she suddenly remembered she was
speaking to Navok’s intended bride. “He’s not always terrible. He can be — he can be very protective.”
Possessive, more like, Kiva thought bitterly.
“And he rewards those who are loyal to him,” Serafine went on, as if listing Navok’s qualities would make Kiva forgive how he’d treated her.
Tortured her. “He’s also incredibly ambitious and goal-oriented.”
“Enough to want to conquer kingdoms that don’t belong to him,” Kiva muttered.
Serafine stiffened again, and this time she didn’t relax. Her voice lowered as she said, “I’m not defending what he did to you. He has a temper, but he doesn’t usually get physical. What he did was wrong, in every possible way. But I just —” She glanced away, the green in her eyes dulling. In an emotion-clogged voice, she shared, “Late at night when the world is asleep, I stare up at the stars and dream of how different things might be, in another life. I dream of the family I wish I had, of the freedom I long to feel. I dream of someone loving me enough to save me from all of this.” She looked down at her feet. “Voshell isn’t who I hoped for, but he’ll take care of me. And I know this won’t make sense to you, but I’ll be making my brother happy. That means something to me — even if I wish it didn’t.” She turned her sad gaze to Kiva and repeated, “He’s all I have left.”
Despite Serafine’s assumption, Kiva did understand, and worse, could relate. She knew the strength of family bonds, how they could influence beliefs and actions. Serafine had lost her mother at a young age, and her father much more recently. If she went against Navok’s wishes, she risked losing him too, leaving her all alone. Kiva could appreciate that fear more than most, and while part of her wanted to shake Serafine and tell her to stand up to her brother, the other part wanted to wrap her in an embrace and say that everything would be all right — even if they both knew it was a lie.
“You know,” the princess said as they finally approached Kiva’s bedroom, her voice deliberately bright, as if she wanted to forget their conversation up until now, “I just realized we were never properly introduced.”
“I think we’re beyond introductions,” Kiva said, biting back a moan when she felt a renewed surge of pain.
Serafine hummed with agreement. “Despite the circumstances, I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Kiva Corentine.” Her words were
heartfelt and honest. Quietly, she added, “I promise it won’t all be bad. And I also promise to help you every step of the way.”
Kiva was quickly coming to understand why Serafine was so beloved; it was impossible not to be drawn to her gentle spirit and sincere kindness.
What Navok considered Serafine’s weakness, Kiva considered her strength.
But regardless, she had no intention of remaining in Mirraven long enough to take the princess up on her offer.
“Thank you,” Kiva said, not revealing her plans. “I’ll need all the help I can get.”
The smile Serafine sent her was tooth-achingly sweet. “Let’s get you inside and resting,” she said as they reached the bedroom door. “I’ll find Madam Merit and have her send for a healer.”
Kiva quickly considered her options, and said, “Brynn can do that.”
If the maid was given a reason to be out of the room, Kiva could leave undetected. No pain in the world would stop her from taking advantage of that opportunity.
“Brynn?” Serafine asked as they stepped through the doorway.
“My lady’s maid,” Kiva answered, looking up to see the girl in question frozen on the far side of the room. She was hard to make out, hidden in the shadows beside the now-open curtains, but her silhouette was familiar enough for Kiva to recognize her.
“Goodness, my lady, you’re hurt!” Brynn exclaimed, before speeding toward the bathing chamber and disappearing inside. From there, she yelled back to them, “I’ll get some clean linens!”
“Lady Kiva requires a healer,” Serafine called to Brynn, helping Kiva to her bed.
“I’ll see to that at once, Your Highness!” the maid replied, loud enough for them to hear. She didn’t reappear, though, and Serafine frowned in her direction.
“Please, Princess,” Kiva said, caring little about Brynn’s lack of etiquette. “You must be exhausted from your travels. Thank you for helping me back here, but Brynn can see to me now.” She needed Serafine to leave before the maid went for a healer, otherwise the princess might feel obligated to remain. “As your brother said, it looks worse than it is.”
Kiva was lying, and Serafine knew as much. But the princess only shifted uneasily and said, “Are you sure?”
“You’ve given me too much of your time already,” Kiva insisted.
It was obvious the princess wanted to stay, whether out of concern or because she herself wanted the company, but thankfully, she took the hint, and began to move toward the door.
“If you need me, please don’t hesitate to have your maid come and get me,” Serafine offered. She sent a dubious look toward the bathing chamber, clearly doubting Brynn’s competence, and murmured, “Or perhaps send someone else.”
Kiva almost smiled. “I will. Thank you.” She wanted to say how nice it was to have met her and that she hoped things worked out with Voshell, but she couldn’t risk showing her hand, so she only offered a quiet goodbye, breathing a sigh of relief when the door shut behind her.
“Is she gone?” Brynn asked quietly, peeking into the bedroom.
This time, it was Kiva who frowned, since she now realized the maid hadn’t been helping — she’d been hiding. Even from their short acquaintance, Kiva could tell Serafine was nothing like Navok, so there was no reason for Brynn to fear her. “What’s going on with you?”
The maid ignored the question and hurried over, her lips thinning as she took in the swelling on Kiva’s cheek, and a hiss leaving her as she examined Kiva’s shoulder.
“The burn goes deep,” Brynn said, easing Kiva’s dress away from the wound. The fire had hit her bare shoulder, so thankfully no fabric had melted into her skin.
“I know,” Kiva said, feeling every agonizing blister. She was shaking visibly now, and sweat dotted her forehead despite the bone-deep chill setting in as her adrenaline faded. But she couldn’t yield to what she was feeling; she was running out of time. Repeating Serafine’s request, she said, “Can you please go and find me a healer?”
She needed Brynn gone — now.
But the maid shook her head. “A healer can’t do much for a wound like this. Not in time for —” She broke off, but Kiva knew it was only to avoid mentioning the wedding.
“Please, Brynn,” Kiva begged. “It really hurts.” That part wasn’t a lie.
There was a furrow in the maid’s brow as she continued to inspect the burn, but then she seemed to come to a decision and ordered, “Lie down.
On your stomach.”
“No, truly, I need you to go and —”
“Now, Kiva,” the maid said, her voice firm.
But it wasn’t just her tone that shocked Kiva — it was that she waved her hand and a glossy green plant appeared, growing straight out of the floor.
If Kiva hadn’t already been sitting on the bed, she would have stumbled
backwards.
Brynn had earth magic.
“You’re an anomaly,” Kiva breathed. For seventeen years, she’d only ever heard whispers of anomalies, and now she’d encountered two in the space of an hour.
“Lie down,” Brynn said again, pointing to the bed.
Kiva was too stunned to do anything but obey, wincing as the move aggravated her shoulder. She was careful to press her uninjured cheek to the pillow, watching in awe as Brynn summoned another plant to appear alongside the first. Both were familiar to Kiva, but she’d only ever used one before.
The first was aloeweed, and Brynn quickly pulled a small blade from her apron and sliced open the green stalk until its gel-like sap began to ooze out.
“You need to use the redwort first,” Kiva said, indicating the second plant. “It’ll clean the wound.”
“It’ll also sting enough to make you wish for the everworld,” Brynn argued.
“If it gets infected, I may end up in the everworld.”
The maid lowered the aloeweed — reluctantly — and reached for the reddish plant, but then she cocked her head and waved her hand again. Two new flowering plants appeared beside the redwort, one having bright white petals with yellow tips, the other a startling shade of violet with red shoots sprouting from the center. Kiva had never seen either before.
“Milkmist,” Brynn said as she plucked one of the white flowers, causing Kiva to jerk in surprise. Her father had mentioned milkmist once, claiming it was incredibly rare and famous for its strong anesthetic properties.
Sure enough, the moment Brynn cut open the bulb and dribbled the sap onto Kiva’s shoulder, her pain vanished into numbness so complete that she moaned with relief.
“I could kiss you right now,” she murmured into her pillow, aware that she might actually stand a chance at escaping if the numbness remained long enough for her to sneak out of the castle.
The maid chuckled and proceeded to clean Kiva’s shoulder using the redwort. “Want to tell me what happened to you?”
“Not really,” Kiva answered, her trembles beginning to ease now that her pain had faded.
Brynn’s fingers paused. “I’ll rephrase. As the person currently helping you, I’d like you to tell me what happened.”
Kiva grumbled, “You’re very forceful for a maid.” When Brynn said nothing, and didn’t continue cleaning the wound, Kiva added, “Fine, but please hurry. I have . . . things to do.”
“What things?”
“Just — things,” Kiva said defensively, wishing the maid would act more maid-like.
Brynn’s voice was filled with humor as she said, “The time will pass quicker if you share what happened while I work.”
Kiva doubted that, but when Brynn recommenced cleaning her shoulder, she offered an overview of Navok’s demands in the throne room and how Serafine and Voshell had interrupted Xuru’s second attack, finishing with an offhanded mention about the tension she’d felt between the Mirraven king and the Caramor prince.
“Navok and Vosh are meeting in private?” Brynn asked as she smeared a liberal amount of aloeweed gel over the top of Kiva’s wound to make a soothing protective barrier. “Right now?”
“I guess so,” Kiva answered.
Brynn didn’t ask anything else as she shifted to dab aloeweed onto Kiva’s cheek, her silvery eyes narrowed with displeasure now that she had confirmation that the swelling was from Navok himself. She took off into the bathing chamber, returning with a tumbler half full of water. Only then did she reach for the purple flower, plucking some petals and shoots and
dropping them into the liquid.
“Drink this,” she said.
Kiva tried to sit up, but Brynn placed a hand on her good shoulder and pressed her back onto the bed. “Stay down until the aloeweed sets. Just lift your head and drink it that way.”
“What is it?” Kiva asked as she took a tentative sip. It had a subtle floral taste, almost fruity.
“I doubt you’ll have heard of it — it’s a flower native to the Serpent Isles. The monks sequestered there call it Serpent’s Kiss,” Brynn said. “It
speeds up healing, but you should only use it in extreme circumstances.”
“Why?” Kiva asked, taking another sip.
“Because it’s poisonous.”
Kiva spat out her mouthful. “What?”
Brynn rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine.” She paused, then amended, “You might have a bit of a headache and some stomach pains, maybe temporary blindness. But don’t worry, in a few hours, you’ll be back to normal. And you’ll be feeling much better. Just don’t take any more for at least a month, or you’ll be in trouble.”
Kiva gaped at the maid. “You gave me poison?”
“It’s mostly men who it kills,” Brynn said breezily. “Your odds are good.”
But Kiva barely heard her, because she belatedly processed what else Brynn had said, and all but shrieked, “Did you say a few hours?”
Brynn pried the tumbler from Kiva’s dread-stiffened fingers. “I did. And unfortunately for you, I need to be somewhere else right now, but I don’t trust that you won’t do something foolish while I’m gone — like try to flee.
So this will actually work out well, since you can sleep off the Serpent’s Kiss without ever feeling its effects.”
There was so much to what Brynn had said that both stunned and alarmed Kiva, but she couldn’t say anything — because she couldn’t breathe.
No matter how hard she tried to inhale, it was as if her body had forgotten how to process oxygen. And it wasn’t just breathing that she was suddenly incapable of doing — she also couldn’t move, her limbs unresponsive, like something heavy was pressing her to the bed, refusing to let her up.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Brynn said, her voice gentle, even as Kiva looked at her with wide, terrified eyes. “Everything will be all right, Kiva. Trust me.”
And then, starved for air, Kiva’s vision blackened and she succumbed to unconsciousness.
