CHAPTER TEN
Ice flooded Kiva’s veins as she stared at the open doorway, before she came to her senses and lunged forward to shut it. The voices seemed too far away for them to have reached the fork and noticed the light streaming into the tunnel, so her presence remained undiscovered, for now.
But the Royal Council was heading her way.
Jaren was heading her way.
And in closing the door, she had just trapped herself in the room.
For a single, heart-stopping second, all thoughts eddied from Kiva’s mind as fear took hold, but then she snapped out of it and began searching desperately for a hiding place.
She looked at the bookcase overflowing with tomes, dismissing it immediately. She then considered whether she could remain unseen beneath the mahogany table, only to reject that idea just as fast. Gazing frantically around, her eyes came to rest on the ashwood cabinet, a gasp of hope leaving her as she bolted toward it, yanking open the doors and shoving aside the bottles of spirits and unused parchment. Her sore muscles burned in protest as she twisted her body into the cramped space, curling at the waist and wrapping her arms around her legs in order to fit. It took three tries before she was able to close the cabinet doors, but finally she managed to seal herself inside.
For a moment, Kiva could see nothing, the musty smell of wood overloading her senses, coupled with the more pungent scent of alcohol indicating that a bottle must have spilled at some point. The darkness was consuming, the walls closing in on her, hauling her back to her time in the Abyss when she’d been locked in the pitch-black cell for a fortnight.
Trapped.
Just as she was now.
Her breathing began to grow louder as her lungs constricted, recollected terror causing sweat to break out on her forehead.
She couldn’t see.
She couldn’t breathe.
She had to get out of there.
She had to get out of there.
But then her eyes began to adjust, a sliver of light trickling through a small gap between the cabinet doors offering Kiva a lifeline. She released a shaky breath and pressed her face against the wood, one eye able to peek out into the room beyond — Just in time to watch the door open with the arrival of the Royal Council, Jaren at their head. Queen Ariana also accompanied them, having clearly abandoned her afternoon of paperwork.
Kiva reminded herself that she was no longer locked away in the Abyss, but she would be if they caught her. She had to stay calm, had to stay silent.
And she had to pay attention. Because inadvertently or not, she’d just found herself in the best position to spy on the Royal Council.
“— want you to acknowledge that it was reckless and dangerous,” a middle-aged man with graying hair was saying, his beady eyes set in a frown.
“Foolish, even. So much could have gone wrong. So much did go wrong.”
“Horeth, if you intend to spend the afternoon scolding me like a child, let me know now,” Jaren said with clear impatience. “I have better things to do.”
Horeth — Kiva had heard that name earlier. He was the Grand Master of the Royal Council. And right now he was scowling at Jaren, as were the three other people who had trailed into the room behind him, two women and another man. All four of the council members wore red robes with glimmering circlets at their brows, Horeth’s being gold, the other three silver.
Jaren and Ariana took their seats at the table, with the Grand Master and his three companions following their lead. Kiva had to crane her neck and squint through the gap in the cabinet to keep her eye on them all, but she was still able to see everyone reasonably well.
“I think what my son means to say is that he’s aware his actions were . . . rash,” Ariana said in a mollifying voice. “But when he heard news of Tilda Corentine’s impending transfer to Zalindov, he saw an opportunity too great to resist.”
Kiva’s fingers twitched at the mention of her mother.
“And he nearly died because of it,” a dark-skinned woman pointed out, her black hair pulled into a strict bun at the nape of her neck.
“Yisari’s right,” Horeth said with an imperious nod, his gaze spearing Jaren. “We’ve all read Naari Arell’s reports, so we know Eidran Ridley
volunteered to insinuate himself inside the prison for Tilda’s arrival. We also know his ill-timed accident meant the plan should have been abandoned.
What we don’t know is why it wasn’t — and why you, the heir to our kingdom, decided to risk your life by going into a hostile environment completely unprepared. For everworld’s sake, look at your hand! You’ll have that scar forever, and gods know how many others from your time in there.”
Horeth had clearly never seen Jaren without his shirt on, or he’d know that a few new scars were the least of the prince’s concerns. Even so, Kiva had to repress the shame she felt, since she was the one who had carved the Z into Jaren’s hand. She wondered if Naari’s reports had included that particular detail.
All eyes turned to the prince, but he only leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Eidran’s doing better, thanks for asking,” he said pointedly. “His leg was damaged worse than we thought, so it’s taking some time to heal, but he’s staying with his family in Albree and they’re helping with his rehabilitation. I’ll be sure to pass along your regards.”
Silence fell after Jaren’s dry statement, and Kiva’s lips curled up at the edges. This was a side of him she’d never seen before — princely, almost insolent.
“Perhaps we should move on,” murmured the silver-circlet-wearing man, his head bald and skin milky white. “As we can all see, Prince Deverick is safely returned to us. Indeed, we were unaware he was even in Zalindov until after his escape. There’s no point in dwelling on what has passed.”
“Wise words, Feldor, as always,” said the second councilwoman. She too was pale, though her visible skin was dusted with freckles and lined with age, her auburn hair streaked liberally with silver.
“Fine,” Grand Master Horeth said, his features pinched with displeasure.
“If we’re not going to address His Highness’s careless actions, then let’s discuss his thoughtless decision in bringing not one, but two escaped criminals back to Vallenia with him — and right to the palace, no less.”
Apprehension filled Kiva’s body, but not because of Horeth’s new line of discussion. It was the stormy look on Jaren’s face that made her cramped muscles unconsciously tense.
“Tread carefully with what you say next, Grand Master,” Jaren warned, his voice cold. He leaned forward, his eyes like shards of ice. “One of those criminals you’re talking about is a young boy whose only crime was to love his mother too much —”
“His mother was a thief —”
“— and the other criminal, as you call her,” Jaren continued over Horeth, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, “was barely seven years old when she arrived at Zalindov. I don’t care what you say — there’s something fundamentally wrong with our laws when children can be sent to a death prison.”
“But she —”
“Let’s also remember that Kiva earned her freedom by triumphing over the Trial by Ordeal. If not for the riot, she would have been set free.”
“We all know you helped her survive the Ord —”
“And ignoring all of that,” Jaren said, refusing to let the Grand Master get a word in edgewise, “she spent every waking moment at Zalindov helping the other prisoners, often at great personal sacrifice. In my mind, that makes her a hero. Try to remember that the next time you think I’ll sit back and smile as you call her a criminal.”
Cheeks red and eyes blazing from having been interrupted so many times, Horeth spat, “Her father was suspected of —”
“I know all about her father.”
With just six words from Jaren, the world fell out from beneath Kiva.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t look into her?” he asked the table, incredulous. “The first thing I did when we arrived at the winter palace was ask Caldon to hunt down her prison records. But of course he was already three steps ahead of me. He’d started investigating her the day they met, all the way back at the first Trial. He briefed me straightaway, sharing everything I needed to know.”
Kiva’s shock transformed into a cold, horrified numbness.
“Then you know —” Horeth tried, but Jaren continued to cut him off.
“What I know is that Faran Meridan’s alleged association with the rebels was exactly that — alleged.” The prince’s voice was as unyielding as his expression. “He was sentenced to Zalindov for suspected treason without proof of any crime on his part. Gods, the man spent his life saving people.
And what did he get in return? A swift death, and the burden of leaving his daughter to suffer for a crime he may never have committed, all because she’d resisted his arrest.”
“Exactly!” Horeth cried. “She resisted his arrest! That’s a criminal offen —”
“She was seven years old!” Jaren all but yelled, his hands now fisted on the table. “She’d just watched her brother die in a senseless accident, and her
father was being dragged away into the night. Of course she resisted his arrest. Anyone would have!”
Kiva didn’t hear Horeth’s reply over the ringing in her ears. She tried to calm her raging heartbeat, reminding herself that she’d told Jaren parts of her story months ago. He’d already known Kerrin had died — she’d just never told him how, or that she’d witnessed it. He’d also known about her father being in Zalindov, but she’d never revealed what Faran had been accused of.
That was dangerous information, the kind that could make him question if she had ulterior motives, especially since she’d failed to divulge the full truth herself.
But . . . if Jaren had known everything since their first day at the winter palace, if Caldon had known for even longer . . .
The tightness in Kiva’s chest eased as she realized that was all they knew. Caldon must not have dug any deeper after reading her prison records — not that he would have had a reason to. The charges against her father were unfounded and therefore led to a dead end. Furthermore, there was nothing in Warden Rooke’s archives that could have linked her — or Faran — to Tilda, nor had she or her father ever been known as anything other than Meridan, with the name Corentine having been abandoned by her mother’s great-something grandmother generations before Kiva had been born. Prior to Zalindov, her family had stayed clear of any rebel activity, so there was nothing incriminating in her history — and certainly nothing that was
documented.
That meant she was still safe.
But she’d underestimated them. Both Jaren and Caldon. She couldn’t afford to do so again.
“The only good thing out of this entire mess,” Jaren said, running agitated fingers through his hair, “is that Kiva seems to have been too young to know it was the Royal Guard that ruined her life, or that Captain Veris himself was there that night.” He was wrong on both counts, but Kiva wasn’t about to pop out of the cabinet and correct him. “She hasn’t shown any signs of recognition, but Veris remembers her like it was yesterday. I’ll never forget those eyes, he told me.” Jaren stared down at the table, his expression wretched as he whispered, “Gods, if she knew the truth, she’d never be able to look at me again.”
He was wrong about that, too, even if Kiva wished he wasn’t.
“What a tragedy that would be,” Horeth said callously. He turned to the
queen and said, “Your Majesty, you can’t possibly want the Meridan girl running around the palace? The child, too — Tripper, or whatever his name is. They’re a security threat. If nothing else, they should have guards on them at all times.”
Jaren opened his mouth to argue, but Ariana placed her hand over his clenched fist, silencing him.
“I’ll admit that when I first heard about my son’s traveling companions, I was concerned,” the queen said. “But I also knew he would never risk placing our family — or our kingdom — in any danger. Jaren trusts them, and I trust his judgment.” She eyed each of the council members, her gaze lingering on Horeth as she finished, “You should, too.”
“Trust is the first ingredient in a recipe for betrayal,” the Grand Master returned, shaking his head — in disappointment or disgust, Kiva wasn’t sure.
But goose bumps prickled her flesh at his prophetic words.
“Horeth makes a good point,” the bald-headed Feldor interjected. “What is the basis for your trust, Prince Deverick? An explanation might help us understand better.”
“Kiva saved my life,” Jaren said, his words simple, but every person in the room sat up straighter. “I’d be dead in a tunnel beneath Zalindov right now if not for her. I could barely stand without her help, let alone walk out of there on my own. She could have left me, and she didn’t.”
Queen Ariana’s beautiful features had paled with each word Jaren spoke, though surely she already knew every detail of their escape.
Horeth, however, made a dismissive sound. “Naari would have found you eventually. And even if she hadn’t, are we supposed to ignore your magic?
You didn’t need to walk out of there, Your Highness, and we all know it.”
Kiva blinked into the darkness, realizing Horeth was right. If Jaren could hover above an underground river, he could have easily levitated himself to the tunnel exit and up the ladders. Hell, he could have just used his earth magic to crack open the ground, rising straight up to the surface.
“You’re forgetting that I’d been tortured for a fortnight, and laboring for weeks before that on limited food and water,” Jaren said, causing his mother to pale even more. “I’d also already expended a lot of my magic and had no energy for it to replenish properly. I was down to sparks and embers, nothing more.”
He’d been down to sparks and embers because he’d used his magic protecting Kiva from the Ordeals. The little power he’d had left must have
been what he’d used to light their path out of the tunnels — and then escape from Zalindov afterward.
“You truly expect us to believe that you’re only alive today because of Kiva Meridan?” Horeth asked, scoffing.
“I don’t care what you believe,” Jaren stated. “But I do expect you to treat both her and Tipp with respect. They’re here as my guests, and I won’t hear another word against them.”
He stared down each member of the council, daring them to argue further.
Only one of them did — but not in the same vein as before.
“Is that all they’re here for?” the auburn-haired woman asked, a sly smile quirking her lips. “I’ve only seen Kiva from a distance, but I couldn’t help noticing she’s not difficult to look at, if you catch my meaning.”
Jaren stilled. “Careful, Zerra.”
The woman’s smile deepened as she raised her hands in supplication.
“Forgive an old crone her curiosity, but perhaps you might share with us your intentions for her. Do you plan to wed?”
Kiva experienced a full-body reaction to the suggestion. Her torso jolted, her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and a quiet gasp slipped perilously through her lips before she could clamp down on it.
“Wed?” Horeth spluttered. “Surely you jest, Zerra. The girl’s a commoner. No, she’s less than a commoner; she’s a crim —”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Jaren commanded, his voice like steel.
But he wasn’t the only one at the table who was suddenly furious.
“My husband, your king, was once a commoner,” Queen Ariana said, her tone enough to make Kiva shiver. “You’re toeing a dangerous line, Grand Master. Have a care.”
Horeth quickly backpedaled. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I merely wished to express concern for your son — and for the future of our kingdom.
If he intends to —”
“My intentions are none of this council’s business,” Jaren said in his firmest voice yet. “If the time comes when they become the council’s business, then — and only then — will I make them known. Is that understood?” He waited until all four red-robed councillors nodded before he went on, “Kiva has spent over half her life locked in a nightmare. The last thing I want is to make her feel like she’s trapped in another kind of cage, gilded though it might be. I have no idea what the future will bring for us, but
right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams. I can only hope she’ll grant me the honor of being by her side on that journey, and if she does, you’ll have to find a way to deal with it. I don’t think I can be any clearer than that.”
Kiva’s chest constricted all over again at Jaren’s heartfelt words. She couldn’t allow herself to feel them so deeply, but despite her best efforts to resist, they burrowed in and held tight, warming her all over.
“The people will never accept her once they learn where she’s come from.”
Horeth’s snide words made all the warmth within Kiva dissolve. But Jaren held the Grand Master’s gaze, purposefully tracing the Z scar on the back of his hand as he said, “If they can accept me, they’ll accept her. You do our people a disservice by assuming they judge as harshly as you.”
The Grand Master frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Ariana cut him off.
“I think we’ve spoken enough about my son’s personal life today,” she said, making it clear the subject was closed. “What other matters are on the agenda?”
Jaren took advantage of the council members’ hesitation by jumping in and saying, “I’d like an update on the investigation into Warden Rooke’s abuse of power. I’ve heard nothing since leaving the winter palace — has he been charged yet?”
Kiva jerked, her contorted joints barking in protest, but she couldn’t help her reaction. Rooke was being investigated? Was he — Was he actually going to pay for what he’d done?
Feldor scratched his smooth scalp before answering, “We lodged your inquiry as requested, Highness, but Rooke isn’t technically under our jurisdiction. He’s not a citizen of Evalon — he answers to all eight kingdoms, and only Nerine and Valorn are backing your demand for justice. In this case, the majority rules, I’m afraid. Our hands are tied.”
Kiva’s hope faded all over again, before she reminded herself that she would just have to seek her own revenge against him. One day.
“So that’s it?” Jaren asked, his frustration clear. “He’s just allowed to keep on terrorizing the inmates? Poisoning them when he decides they need culling?”
“There’s no proof he did that,” Yisari said, a warning in her voice.
“I was there,” Jaren shot back. “Naari, Kiva, Tipp — we all saw the
prisoners dying, one after the other. We all wondered if we’d be next.”
“And again, you have no proof that Rooke was behind it,” Yisari repeated, spreading her hands in apology. “He’s kept Zalindov’s denizens under strict control for over a decade — that’s longer than any other warden.
It’s his word against yours, and without tangible evidence, we won’t sway the other kingdoms against him. They don’t want to see him replaced when he’s
done such a fine job.”
“He’s a murderer,” Jaren snarled.
“His victims were hardly innocents,” Horeth said, before amending, “Most of them, at least.”
Jaren glared at the Grand Master, before turning to his mother and stating, “We need to re-evaluate our sentencing laws. I can’t speak for the other kingdoms, but I refuse to abide any citizen of this territory being arrested without a fair trial. There should be no innocents inside Zalindov.
None. And the actual criminals who deserve to be locked away should still be afforded basic human rights.” He addressed the whole table as he finished, “If we can’t remove Rooke, then we should at least try to protect our own people inside those walls — and stop anyone who shouldn’t be there from being arrested in the first place.”
The council sat stunned after Jaren’s declaration — as did Kiva — but Ariana nodded at his side, a small, proud smile on her lips.
“I agree,” she said. Turning to Horeth, she ordered, “Meet with the Legal Guild and have them go through the Book of the Law to note what needs amending. Make this a priority.”
The Grand Master blinked stupidly for a long moment, but not even he was foolish enough to refuse a direct command from his queen, so he nodded stiffly in agreement.
Little puffs of air left Kiva’s lips as she realized how many lives might be saved if the laws were amended, but she couldn’t dwell on what Jaren had instigated — and how it made her feel — because the council meeting was far from over.
“What’s happening with the rebels?” Queen Ariana asked, moving the conversation along. “They’ve been quieter since Tilda’s death, but last night they abducted Kiva — presumably to bait Jaren. Are they rallying again?”
“Our newest intelligence is frustratingly limited,” Zerra said, her earlier smile gone, her freckled features now serious. “Ever since Rhune and Whitlock turned up dead, we’ve struggled to get our spies anywhere close to
the inner circle, and not even they were able to infiltrate the main camp. It’s like the Viper and the Jackal have a sixth sense when it comes to loyalty.”
The Viper and the Jackal — Kiva didn’t need to guess who they were, but she was curious how her siblings had come to be known by such names. She was also disturbed by the reference to the two dead men, her stomach turning over at the thought of Torell or Zuleeka being responsible.
“It’s more likely that they have their own spies among us,” Jaren said with a sigh. “They don’t need a sixth sense if someone is telling them everything they need to know.” He scrubbed a weary hand down his face.
“Gods, I wish Eidran were here. He’d know exactly what we should do, and who we could trust.”
“He trained Rhune and Whitlock, didn’t he?” Feldor asked.
Jaren nodded. “Their deaths hit him really hard. That’s why Naari and I made him come with us to the winter palace — to get him out of the city and keep him from doing anything rash. But even while we were gone, he was still brainstorming new ways to infiltrate the rebels.” Jaren paused, as if suddenly remembering something. “Just before we left, he was certain he’d found a secret meeting place here in Vallenia. He’d planned to go in undercover once we got back.”
Yisari’s dark eyes were eager as she asked, “Did he tell you the location?”
A snort of amusement left Jaren. “In the last half hour alone, I’ve been called both reckless and foolish. Do you really think Eidran would have given me that information, knowing what I’d do with it?”
No one responded.
Queen Ariana turned to Zerra and said, “Send someone you trust to Albree. I want to know everything Eidran knows. Then prepare one of our newer spies to go in.”
“He won’t tell you,” Jaren said. “After what happened with Rhune and Whitlock, he knows we have a leak somewhere, and he’ll assume all our people have been compromised.”
“He won’t have a choice,” Horeth stated. “Not if he wants to reclaim his esteemed position in the guard upon his return to full health.”
Jaren had nothing to say to that, so the four councillors began suggesting names of who to send to Albree and who to sneak into an underground meeting. They then segued into a debate about how to weed out any rebel spies, with Ariana jumping in to offer her own opinions.
None of them were paying attention to Jaren, so they all missed the calculating look on his face. Similarly, no one had realized that he’d never answered Yisari’s question, instead replying with his own.
Do you really think Eidran would have given me that information, knowing what I’d do with it?
Kiva was certain Jaren knew more than he was letting on. If Eidran had shared what he knew about a rebel meeting place, then it was almost a guarantee that Jaren would act on that information. Kiva would have to keep a closer eye on him, watching for him to make a move.
“— so we’ll keep monitoring the rebel situation as best as we can, like we always have,” Zerra was saying, prompting Kiva to tune back in. “But ultimately, we all know that while they’re pests, they don’t pose a real threat to Evalon.”
Kiva’s lips parted in indignation before she quickly snapped her mouth shut again.
“Try saying that to the people who have lost loved ones because of them,” Jaren said, his face tight. “Or the ones who have lost their homes, sometimes their entire villages. I doubt they’d consider the rebels mere pests.”
“None of us like the civil unrest they’re causing, and especially not the resulting damages,” Grand Master Horeth said, his tone placating for once.
“But Zerra’s right. As hard as they try, they’ll never muster a force great enough to defeat our armies. And without the Royal Ternary, there’s no other way for them to claim the throne.”
Kiva’s ears perked up at the strange words. The Royal Ternary — what was that? And what did it have to do with the throne? She made a mental note to ask her siblings the next time she saw them — just as she would be asking about the destruction caused by their uprising, praying they had a valid justification.
“For now, there’s nothing more we can do about the rebels,” Horeth continued. “Or rather, there’s nothing more we need to do about them. We’ve already seen that they’re growing quieter. With their queen gone, they’ll eventually give up — we just have to wait them out.”
“The Viper and the Jackal won’t give up so easily,” Jaren said, echoing Kiva’s thoughts. “Eidran thinks one of them, perhaps both, could be directly related to Tilda. Her siblings, her cousins, her children — no one outside of their inner circle has seen their faces, so we can’t guess their ages. But if
Eidran’s right, and if they’ve taken over leadership as we assume, then that means —”
“They could have Corentine blood,” Ariana said, her sapphire eyes narrowing.
Kiva found herself grateful that Eidran was halfway up the coast, since his knowledge of the rebels seemed to be all that was keeping the Royal Council afloat.
“That’s troubling, I’ll admit,” Horeth acknowledged, “but it still doesn’t change anything. Corentine blood or not, they won’t succeed. We’ll continue sending guards to protect our citizens in places of high rebel activity, but otherwise all we can do is wait for them to realize that their movement is doomed to fail.”
Jaren frowned down at the table, clearly unhappy with the lack of initiative.
“In the meantime,” Horeth went on, “we have a more pressing concern.”
Jaren’s gaze returned to the Grand Master, who pushed back from the table and stood, his robes cascading down his wiry body like a wave of blood.
And then he started walking across the room.
Directly toward Kiva.
She stopped breathing as he approached, terrified to make any sound that might give her away. He halted right in front of the cabinet, blocking her line of sight. All he had to do was bend down and open the doors, and she would be — “We’ve received a letter from the King of Mirraven,” Horeth said, and Kiva nearly whimpered with relief when she heard the rustle of parchment.
Her view cleared when he strode back to his seat with the missive in his hands.
Groaning, Jaren asked, “What’s Arakkis threatening this time? Let me guess: if we surrender Evalon to him, he won’t kill us all? Maybe one day he’ll find some creativity.”
A wary silence fell, before Queen Ariana turned to her son and slowly
said, “Arakkis is dead.”
Jaren visibly jolted. “What?”
“I wrote to you,” Ariana said, a crease in her brow. “Right after you left Vallenia for the winter palace.”
Jaren was shaking his head. “The only notes I received were about Tilda
being captured in Mirraven and you negotiating to have her sent to Zalindov.”
“That happened after Arakkis was gone. Those negotiations were all with —”
“Don’t say it,” Jaren whispered, his face paling.
“Navok is king now,” Ariana said quietly. Regretfully, even. “As you know, Mirraven laws state that if anyone of royal blood challenges the ruling monarch and defeats them in combat, they can claim the throne as their own.
Navok challenged Arakkis. And he won.”
“He killed his own father,” Jaren said in a flat voice.
“Arakkis was no saint,” the Grand Master pointed out.
“He was in comparison to his son.”
The weight of Jaren’s harsh declaration filled the room until Horeth cleared his throat and gestured to the parchment. “This arrived last night.
Until now, Mirraven hasn’t been responding to any of our recent missives.
Nor has Caramor, for that matter.”
Jaren reached for the letter and began scanning it immediately.
“As you can see,” Horeth said, “unlike his father, Navok isn’t threatening to attack.”
“He’s smarter than that,” Jaren murmured, a look of concentration on his face as he translated the Mirravish words. His eyes narrowed at one point and his head jerked up. “Serafine is marrying Voshell?”
“One of Navok’s first edicts as king was to betroth his sister to Caramor’s crown prince,” Horeth confirmed. Sourly, he added, “As if the two territories need to be any closer.”
“They don’t,” Jaren said, his brow furrowed. “They’re already joined at the hip — a marriage isn’t going to strengthen them further, especially since we all know Serafine would rather die than wed Voshell. What’s Navok playing at? This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Perhaps he’s getting her out of the way so she doesn’t think to challenge him?” Yisari suggested, brushing at a tendril of dark hair that had escaped her strict bun.
“Serafine Kildarion wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Jaren argued. “If she didn’t look so much like her brother and father, I’d swear she was adopted. She’s nothing like them.”
“She must take after her mother in personality, then,” Zerra mused.
“Let’s just hope she doesn’t meet the same end,” Feldor said darkly.
Kiva’s brows rose, wondering if perhaps the ex-queen hadn’t fled in the night after all.
Or maybe she’d tried, and her cruel husband had caught up to her.
“Poor Serafine,” Jaren said, his words genuine. “Navok is obviously using her for some kind of bargaining power. She doesn’t deserve that — she was the only one of them who I could ever stand to be around during our northern diplomatic missions. Mirryn enjoyed her company as well — they became fast friends. And Caldon — well, obviously Cal liked her. Though she was always clever enough to spurn his advances.”
Jaren rolled his eyes, prompting chuckles from around the table. But then they all sobered as he lowered the parchment and exhaled loudly.
“This letter doesn’t really tell us anything, does it? Navok’s just taunting us with pleasantries, wanting us on edge and worried about what he’s planning.” Jaren drummed his fingers on the table. “But regardless, send word to Ashlyn. If the armies of Mirraven and Caramor are stirring, we need our own to be ready.”
“Our armies are always ready,” Yisari said, with evident pride. “If those northern brutes think they can invade us so easily, they’ll quickly learn why Evalon is the most powerful kingdom in Wenderall.”
Jaren gave a distracted nod, his gaze scanning the missive again.
“Something about this doesn’t seem right to me. He’s all but gloating about Serafine’s impending nuptials. But why?” Looking at Yisari, he asked, “Do we have eyes inside Mirraven?”
“No one deep enough to provide anything useful,” she answered.
“Get Ashlyn on it,” Jaren commanded. “Tell her to send in her best, someone who can think quickly and adapt as needed. Navok is both cunning and perceptive — he’ll smell a spy before they even set foot in Zadria, so whoever goes in needs to be crafty.”
“I’ll dispatch a messenger tonight,” Yisari promised.
“Knowing Ash, she’s probably already got someone on the inside who we don’t know about,” Jaren said, passing the letter to his mother. “But if she
doesn’t, she’ll make it happen.”
“And until then?” Horeth asked.
“We watch,” Jaren said. “We listen. We wait.”
“If they make a move, we’ll stop them,” Queen Ariana said in a hard voice. “No one threatens my family and my kingdom and gets away with it.
No one.”
Kiva trembled at the fury in Ariana’s voice, the words repeating in her ears long after the Royal Council moved on to talk about the other items on their agenda. Foreign trade negotiations, city maintenance updates, guild requests . . . all matters that were inconsequential to her. She soon grew bored, the discomfort of her physical condition becoming more obvious, her muscles aching and her backside numb.
Just when Kiva thought she wouldn’t be able to survive another minute in the claustrophobic space, Jaren and Ariana rose to their feet, declaring the meeting over. She nearly wept with relief when the councillors followed them out into the dark passageway and the door sealed shut behind them.
Unwilling to risk discovery now, Kiva waited long enough for them to have returned aboveground before she finally opened the cabinet — and toppled straight out onto the hard stone ground. Lying there, she bit her lip against the pins and needles, waiting for the pain to ease.
It didn’t.
She blamed Caldon and his torturous morning workout, though it was hardly his fault that she’d crammed herself into a cupboard for the better part of the afternoon.
It had been worth it, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth and standing to her feet. Not even Naari had been allowed in the room. Hell, not even Mirryn was privy to all the council’s secrets — only the queen and her heir.
And today, Kiva.
Now she just had to find a way to communicate what she’d learned to Torell and Zuleeka.
An unpleasant feeling hit Kiva’s stomach as she began her painstaking journey out of the room. She tried to convince herself that it was from hunger, and not because of how thoroughly she planned to betray the Vallentis family.
How thoroughly she planned to betray Jaren.
The last thing I want is to make her feel like she’s trapped in another kind of cage.
His words echoed in her mind, her stomach twisting even more.
Right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams.
If only it were that easy, Kiva thought. If only the last ten years had never happened. If only she weren’t bound by duty, by love, by family.
I can only hope she’ll grant me the honor of being by her side on that journey.
He would be by her side. Right up until the crown fell from his head.
Kiva had to stop in the middle of the darkened tunnel, the agony of that
image almost too much for her to bear.
And then she continued on.
Because she had to.
But despite her best attempts to ignore it, the twisting pain stayed with her all the way up to the palace, lingering for what remained of the afternoon and long into the night, a steady ache that refused to fade.
