CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kiva was burning.
Falling.
Drowning.
Water. So much water. She couldn’t breathe.
Her skin was on fire. It burned. It burned.
Down she fell, the wind ripping her apart, the cold shredding her skin.
The thwack of a whip. A quiet, masculine moan.
Blood flowing into a drain.
Darkness — so much darkness.
She couldn’t breathe.
SHE COULDN’T BREA — “Wake up!”
Kiva gasped and shot up in bed to find a dark outline of a man hovering over her, gripping her shoulders. She shrieked and threw her fists at his naked chest, thrashing wildly to get free. He made an oomph sound but only held on to her tighter, trapping her arms. She opened her mouth to shriek again, but
then — “Kiva! Kiva! It’s me!”
Jaren’s voice finally penetrated, causing her to freeze.
“It was just a nightmare,” he said, holding her firmly against his warm, strong body. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He stroked her sweaty hair away from her face and repeated, “I’m here.”
“J-J-Jaren?” Kiva stuttered around her frantic, panting breaths. The room was dark, barely enough moonlight drifting in to make out his concerned features.
“I’ve got you,” he told her, rubbing soothing patterns on her back.
Kiva was quaking so badly that she cuddled into Jaren’s bare torso and burrowed her face in the crook of his neck, forgetting that she should be pushing him away and instead clinging to him like a child.
From the doorway to her bedroom came Tipp’s hushed voice. “Is she a-
all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” Jaren answered quietly. “You did the right thing, coming to get me. Why don’t you go and wake Ori, have a sneaky hot cocoa, then go back to sleep. You can talk to her in the morning.”
Kiva sensed Tipp’s hesitation, but then she heard the door shut as he left her room.
Still clinging to Jaren, Kiva couldn’t bring herself to let go, her body continuing to tremble. She didn’t even care that they were alone, tangled together on her bed, with him only half dressed. All she knew was that she felt safe in his arms. They were all that was holding her together.
He was all that was holding her together.
“I have them, too, you know,” Jaren whispered, his fingers combing through her hair. “The dreams. Ever since Zalindov.”
She burrowed deeper into him, recalling the sounds of distress she’d heard muted through the walls at the winter palace.
Against his neck she asked, barely a breath of sound, “What do you dream about?”
She knew she should put some distance between them.
But she didn’t move.
Just this once, she told herself.
Just this once, she would allow herself to forget who he was — who she was — and rest in the comfort of his embrace.
“I dream of darkness, I dream of death,” Jaren answered slowly. “I dream of you falling from that tower and me not catching you in time. I dream of you walking into the crematorium and never coming back out. I dream of — of —” He swallowed. “I dream of finding you at the bottom of the quarry, not breathing.” He shuddered against her. “I dream of you dying, over and over, while I just stand there, watching.”
His words prompted flashes of Kiva’s own nightmare.
Falling.
Burning.
Drowning.
But also the soul-destroying darkness of the Abyss. And — “I saw you getting whipped.”
The words left her without her permission.
Jaren turned as still as a statue.
After the day she’d had, everything she’d heard, everything she’d felt —
and was currently feeling — Kiva’s guard was completely torn away.
Because of that, she couldn’t keep from continuing, “It was my fault. You — You saved me, and he — he hurt you.” Her throat caught, making a jagged, painful sound.
“Sweetheart,” Jaren murmured, kissing her temple.
She melted into him. She couldn’t help it.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, the apology coming from deep within her.
“I never said it to you before. I should have said it to you before.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I didn’t say thank you, either,” Kiva went on, not hearing him. She was still half asleep, her words tumbling from her lips without thought. “You saved my life, and I never said thank you. I — I was so angry that you’d lied to me, but you still — you still saved me. I’m alive because of you.” Her voice became hoarse. “What kind of person doesn’t say thank you?”
A comforting stroke of Jaren’s fingers. “I’m sure you thanked me.”
“I didn’t,” she argued, gripping him tighter. “I didn’t.”
“All right, then you’re saying it now,” Jaren said, his tone pacifying.
“I should have said it sooner.”
“You’re saying it now,” Jaren repeated.
Kiva fell silent, emotion simmering within her. Her nightmare had left her raw. She was feeling so much — too much. Everything she’d been trying to bury for six weeks, for ten years, was rising to the surface.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, the words breaking.
“You already said that, beautiful,” Jaren whispered back, gathering her closer.
But this time, Kiva wasn’t apologizing for what had already happened.
She was apologizing for what lay ahead.
And as Jaren continued to hold her, promising he would stay until she fell back to sleep, she knew she was in more danger than ever before.
Because she didn’t want to let him go.
And she wasn’t sure if she ever would.
When Kiva woke in the morning, there was a prince in her bedroom — but it wasn’t the same prince who had stayed with her after her nightmare until she’d eventually dozed off in his arms.
“Training, Sunshine,” Caldon said. “Up, up, up!”
Groggily, Kiva pulled back her covers, wondering when Jaren had left,
but grateful that his cousin hadn’t caught them in bed together.
A painful moan left her as she stood to her feet, her muscles protesting everything she’d put them through the previous day. But Caldon showed her no mercy once they reached the training yard, his second lesson turning into a replica of the first, just with extra box-stepping and an added running lap.
Kiva again vomited up the contents of her stomach, with Caldon unsympathetically pushing her to her limits — and beyond.
Sweating like a river and aching all over, Kiva wasn’t sure how she made it back to her room afterward, but once she’d soaked in a long, hot bath and changed into clean clothes, she began to feel mildly human again.
Embarrassment from the previous night tried to creep in, but she wouldn’t let it take root. Jaren had been there for her when she’d needed him. Jaren was always there for her when she needed him. She just couldn’t think about that, because when she did . . .
She’d seen him in the training yard that morning, facing off against Captain Veris again. He’d paused only long enough to look her way and send her a comforting smile before dodging the captain’s next sword thrust, but that smile had been enough for her to know that whatever had happened between them in the night — and in the cavern yesterday — didn’t require an explanation. Or a definition. They were what they were. Jaren and Kiva. Two people connected for better or worse. It wasn’t something Kiva needed to dwell on. In fact, it was something she couldn’t dwell on if she wanted to maintain any semblance of sanity. Her plans hadn’t changed — even if her heart refused to listen.
A knock on her bedroom door startled her from her thoughts, and she assumed it must be Tipp coming to check on her after her nightmare. But when she opened it, she found an elderly servant woman, who bobbed into a quick curtsey.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but the healer who treated you the other night has sent word asking for you to meet her at Silverthorn.”
“Rhessinda?” Kiva asked.
The woman nodded. “Yes, miss. I can have her return to the palace if you’d prefer?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Kiva said. “It’s a beautiful day. It’ll be good for me to get out for a bit.”
Staying active would help keep her sore muscles loose, too. Not to mention, it would give her an excuse to have some time away from Jaren.
Distance, she reminded herself, was needed — even if she was failing spectacularly at following her own advice.
“Very good, miss,” the servant said, curtseying again and departing.
Kiva had planned to spend her day snooping around the palace and mapping the grounds, but with everything she’d learned yesterday, she’d earned herself a break. It wasn’t like she could offload the information yet anyway, still having no idea when her siblings intended to reappear.
After tugging on her boots, Kiva made her way down to the ground floor and stepped out into the spring sunshine. She’d been told upon arriving in Vallenia that she could come and go from the palace as she pleased, the guards having been ordered to give her free rein through the front gates.
Because of that, she had no issue leaving the grounds, smiling politely to the Royal Guards and receiving respectful nods in return.
Kiva took her time meandering along the River Road toward Silverthorn, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the sun on her skin. It was the last day of the River Festival, but the streets were nowhere near as crowded as the first night, with no pushing or shoving, just pockets of children dancing to upbeat tunes from wandering musicians.
It was almost a shame when Kiva reached the academy, her muscles burning anew as she ascended the steep hill atop which the campus rested.
Moving stiffly to ease some of her agony, she headed in the direction of the main infirmary, having no idea if Rhessinda would be there but confident someone would be able to point her in the right direction.
Strolling down the arched stone pathway, Kiva admired the luscious green sanctuary between the buildings, again marveling at the serenity. She was so lost in her appreciation that she nearly collided with a woman walking in the opposite direction, and did a quick hop-step to the side just in time.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking —” Kiva broke off when she recognized the head of Silverthorn.
“Miss Meridan, what a nice surprise,” Healer Maddis said warmly. “I was hoping to see you again.”
“I, um, hello,” Kiva said, uncomfortably aware that she’d nearly plowed down the elderly woman.
“Have you made a decision about your studies?” Maddis asked, pushing wire-framed spectacles up her nose.
“I — well —” It was on the tip of her tongue to say she wasn’t interested, but she knew her lie would be unconvincing. “I’m still thinking about it,”
Kiva finally said.
Maddis smiled with understanding. “Take as long as you need. As I said the other day, the offer will remain open.”
Kiva swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The matron removed her glasses and placed them in the pocket of her white healer’s robe. “If you didn’t come to speak with me, what brings you to Silverthorn?”
“Healer Rhessinda summoned me,” Kiva said. She pointed to the bruise on the side of her face. “I’m guessing she wants to see how I’m feeling.”
“Oh dear,” Maddis said, gently turning Kiva’s chin to the side. “That must have been a nasty bump.”
“The swelling went down fast,” Kiva said, “but it’s still tender to the touch.”
“Who did you say treated you? Healer Lucinda?”
“Rhessinda,” Kiva corrected.
Maddis considered for a moment, before she offered an apologetic shrug.
“I used to know all of our healers, but there are so many now, and I’m not as good with names as I once was. Lucinda, Rhessinda, Jacinda, Melinda — they all blur together, I’m afraid. It’s a peril of growing older, but not the worst, I’ll admit.” Her dark face lit with self-deprecating humor as she waved a hand down her aging body. “Once everything decides to move south, it’s all downhill from there. Something for you to look forward to.”
Kiva couldn’t help chuckling.
“Someone at reception will be able to help you find her,” Maddis went on, gesturing to the infirmary Kiva had already been heading toward. The healer’s attention was then snagged by a white-robed group lying on the grass, their faces tinged a sickly green. With a long-suffering sigh, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with some of the novices about their behavior at the festival last night.”
With a pat on the shoulder, Maddis left Kiva standing on the path, but not before turning back to call, “I’ll look forward to hearing once you’ve made your decision.”
Kiva said nothing, not wanting to let the Matron Healer down. Not wanting to let herself down. But now wasn’t the time — there were too many other things she needed to focus on. Her own desires would have to wait.
Right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams.
Jaren’s words to the Royal Council echoed in her mind, but Kiva closed
her heart to them. Even if she made the selfish decision to put herself first, the scar on her hand would forever mark her as a criminal. No patient would ever trust her, no healing academy would ever accept her. One close look was all it would take for Maddis to rescind her offer.
And yet . . .
Kiva sighed, Jaren’s words burrowing deep despite her best efforts to ignore them. Try as she might, she wasn’t ready to give up on her dreams.
Because dreams were all she had.
Dreams where her family was safe and happy and living the life they deserved.
Dreams where she studied at Silverthorn and was able to help those who needed her, bringing comfort where there was suffering, light where there was darkness, and hope when all hope was lost.
Dreams where she and Jaren — No.
She knew better than to dream about Jaren.
“Hey, over here!”
Kiva looked up to see that she’d been walking blindly along the path toward the infirmary, only to discover Rhessinda sitting on a bench in the sanctuary and waving at her.
Passing through one of the stone archways, Kiva approached the young healer, the grass soft underfoot, the smells of lilac and lavender from the nearby shrubbery tickling her nose.
“I got your message,” Kiva said, taking a seat when Rhess patted the wood beside her.
While her white robes were spotless, the healer’s ashy hair was again in a messy bun, a few tendrils hanging loose around her face. “How’s the head?” she asked, her russet eyes examining the bruise much like Maddis had done.
“Much better,” Kiva said. “The aloeweed gel brought the inflammation down faster than I expected.”
“The poppymilk probably helped, too,” Rhess said with a knowing wink.
Kiva grinned. “I slept like the dead that night. Not sure if that was wise after a head wound.”
“If memory serves, I did tell you to wake regularly,” Rhess said dryly.
She then asked, “Other than the swelling, have you been feeling well enough? No slurring, numbness, coordination concerns? Drowsiness, vomiting, headaches? Anything like that?”
Admittedly, Kiva had experienced most of those things in the last two days, but all of them she attributed to training with Caldon, so she shook her head.
“You were limping when you walked over here,” Rhess observed in a leading statement.
“I’ve recently started a new fitness regime,” Kiva said, moderating her voice to keep from revealing how she felt about it. Judging by the mirth in Rhess’s eyes, she wasn’t successful.
“Ah,” the healer said. “So just your standard muscle aches and pains?”
“If by ‘standard,’ you mean ‘I’m dying,’ then sure.”
Rhess snickered. “I can give you something to help, if you want?”
“That would be appreciated.”
Kiva expected the healer to say she’d have a muscle relaxant sent to the palace, but Rhess reached into her pocket and withdrew a small jar filled with a pale orange powder.
Seeing the look Kiva sent her, Rhess explained, “I keep what feels like a small infirmary on me at all times. Be ready for anything, I say.” She handed over the jar. “Mix a pinch of that into your tea right before bed, and then again when you wake up. You’ll feel better in no time.”
Kiva removed the stopper and gave it a sniff. “Buttercress, ginger-weed, halo pods, and —” She took another sniff. “Lurmeric?”
“Well done,” Rhess said approvingly. “I heard you have some healing experience.”
“Nothing compared to what you do here,” Kiva said, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater and making sure it covered her scar.
“Silverthorn is in a league of its own, I’ll grant you that,” Rhessinda agreed, glancing out across the grounds with an awe that Kiva understood deep in her soul. Rhess, however, was already living the dream that Kiva could only wish might one day find her.
“Thanks for coming all the way up here,” the healer went on to say. “I wanted to check in after everything that happened the other night. Being abducted — that must have been frightening.”
“I was unconscious for most of it,” Kiva said, sticking to her lie. “Have you visited Caldon? His wound was worse than mine.”
Rhess waited until two young healers walked past and continued deeper into the sanctuary before saying, “From what I hear, the prince has suffered much more grievous injuries in the past. He’ll send for someone if he’s
worried.”
Unable to help herself, Kiva said, “People usually jump at the chance to spend time with him.” Pointedly, she added, “He’s very handsome.”
Rhess scrunched up her nose. “He certainly seems to think so.”
Kiva laughed, surprised — and delighted — by the healer’s candor.
“Most women fall at his feet.”
“I am not most women.”
Kiva was beginning to realize that. And respect it. “So are you avoiding him on principle because he flirted with you?”
“I’m not avoiding him,” Rhessinda stated. “I just don’t want to see him.”
When Kiva’s lips twitched, Rhess’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t judge — you’re the one who stabbed him. If that doesn’t send a message, I don’t know what does.”
Kiva winced. “In my defense, I thought he was someone else.”
A beat of silence passed, and then suddenly Rhess was laughing. A moment later, Kiva joined her.
“I can’t believe you stabbed a prince!” the healer exclaimed, holding her stomach.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Kiva said, though her voice rumbled with lingering humor. “You’re a healer. Where’s your sense of compassion?”
“You’re not the first person to ask me that,” Rhess said, still chuckling. “I must have missed the day they taught about bedside manner.”
Kiva shook her head with amusement, feeling a growing connection to the healer. Their kinship seemed effortless — something that, if she’d still been at Zalindov, she would have avoided at all costs. But she wasn’t at Zalindov now. She didn’t have to push people away to save herself the pain that came with their death. That wasn’t her life anymore.
With that in mind, when Rhess asked if she wanted to walk down to the river and grab some lunch, Kiva hesitated only a moment before agreeing.
It was all right, she told herself, to start building a life. To start making friends — especially outside of the palace, since everworld knew any relationships she built there were going to crumble soon enough.
“So what’s your story?” Rhess asked as they left the academy and began strolling down the hill.
“I don’t have a story,” Kiva said, too quickly.
“Right,” Rhess said with clear disbelief.
“I don’t,” Kiva argued. “I’m just your normal, everyday kind of girl.”
“The scar on your left hand says otherwise.”
Kiva nearly missed a step. But Rhess wasn’t finished.
“Not to mention, you were abducted by rebels, you’re living at the palace, and the crown prince looks at you like he would burn the world to keep you safe. But sure, you’re just a normal, everyday kind of girl.”
Kiva said nothing, unsure which of Rhess’s observations was the most damning.
“Personally, I think normal is overrated,” the healer said. She unfastened the band around her hair, her ashy locks catching in the breeze. “Normal is tedious, it’s boring. The best people are the ones with stories, the ones who have lived through things others can only imagine in their wildest dreams — and their worst nightmares.” She looked pointedly toward Kiva’s hand.
“People like you.”
It was too late for Kiva to cover her scar, but Rhessinda didn’t seem perturbed by it. There was no judgment in her tone, just curiosity.
“As for me,” the healer went on, sidestepping a small child toddling away from his mother, the crowds growing thicker as they reached the River Road, “I have a story, too.”
It was a taunting statement, begging for Kiva to ask more, but she knew that in order to receive answers, she had to be willing to give some.
Swallowing against her dry throat, she said, “I assume that story has something to do with how you ended up at Silverthorn?”
Rhess came to a stop beside the railing overlooking the river, her eyes turning dark. “It might.”
Kiva took a minute to think before deciding that since Rhess had seen her scar and knew about her link to the royals, she might as well hear the rest.
So she told her.
She shared about her time at Zalindov and how she’d met Jaren. She shared about their escape and how they’d spent weeks recuperating in the mountains before venturing to the capital. She shared what she’d been doing with her days, training with Caldon and getting to know the royals, but then she stopped sharing, knowing better than to reveal anything about her family or the rebels to a near stranger. Even so, it was still more than she’d told anyone, ever.
When she was finished, Rhess whistled through her teeth. “I’d heard rumors that the Rebel Queen was at Zalindov and someone had volunteered
to take her place in the Trial by Ordeal. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”
Kiva’s insides pitched. “There are rumors about me?”
She looked around the bustling River Road, half expecting to see families pointing and staring.
“People like to gossip,” Rhess said. “But don’t worry, everyone thinks
you’re dead.”
Kiva jolted. “Excuse me?”
Shrugging, Rhessinda said, “No more news came after the fourth Ordeal, so the general consensus was that you’d failed.” Thoughtfully, she added, “It probably wouldn’t be too hard to get word out about your victory, if that’s what you want. You’d get a lot of attention.”
Kiva recoiled at the idea. “No, thanks. I’d rather be dead.”
Rhess choked on a laugh, and, realizing how that had sounded, Kiva quickly amended, “You know what I mean — I’d rather they think I’m dead.
The last thing I want is strangers coming up to me and asking questions.”
“Oh no, strangers,” Rhess said with a dramatic shudder. “They’re the worst.”
Kiva rolled her eyes. “Your turn. How did you become a healer?”
Rhessinda tugged at her white robe, her humor vanishing. “My parents were healers, so I guess you could say I followed in their footsteps.”
“Do they live here in Vallenia?”
“No. They don’t.”
Something in Rhessinda’s voice had Kiva bracing.
The healer sighed, as if reluctant to speak now that it was her turn, but nevertheless she shared, “When I was fourteen, a band of Mirraven mercenaries slipped past the border guards and raided our village — that’s not uncommon that far in the north; they usually just take their spoils and leave. But those raiders were different. They weren’t after coin. It was winter, they wanted bodies to warm them, and they didn’t care how unwilling those bodies were. Our townspeople fought hard, but the mercenaries were ruthless.
They —” Rhess turned to stare out at the water. “They made us pay. All of us.”
Kiva swallowed, fearing what was to come.
“My parents did everything they could to keep me safe,” Rhess said. Her voice wobbled slightly but then she took a deep breath, her tone deadening as she declared, “And then they were slaughtered before my eyes.”
A small, devastated gasp left Kiva.
“The mercenaries took me and —” Rhessinda cut herself off, unable to finish, but Kiva didn’t need her to. The haunted look she wore said it all.
Taking a moment to regain control, the healer continued, “I managed to escape. Timing, chance, luck. A combination of all three. Another family took me in, helped me heal.”
Shadows grew in her eyes, spreading across her face. “There were some dark days. Days when I gave up. Days when I tried — really damn hard — not to feel anything. Days when I didn’t feel anything.” In a whisper, she admitted, “Those were the worst. Because when I didn’t feel anything, I
didn’t have anything to hold me here.”
Kiva’s heart clenched.
With a sharp exhale, the shadows in Rhess’s eyes began to clear. “My adopted family saved my life in more ways than one. It took time, but they helped remind me that life is too precious to throw away, no matter how hard it is, no matter how much it hurts. I wouldn’t —” Her throat bobbed. “I wouldn’t be here today without them.”
Rhess’s final statement was so implicit that Kiva had to blink away tears, realizing the choice the healer had nearly made.
But she hadn’t.
She was here, she was alive, she had fought the darkness and won.
She had survived.
Just like Kiva.
“I told you,” Rhess whispered, her gaze suddenly locking with Kiva’s.
“The best people have stories. Even if they wish they didn’t.”
Kiva blew out a shaky breath, unable to do anything but offer a solemn nod. She knew there was much more to Rhess’s tale, just as there was more to her own, but they’d both revealed enough for now.
The healer seemed to think so too, because she quietly said, “I don’t usually share about my family to people I hardly know, but you trusted me with your story, so it only seemed fair to trust you with mine. That said, I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell anyone. I’m not after pity.”
Shaking her head, Kiva promised, “I would never.”
“And I’ll keep your secrets, too,” Rhess said. “I hope that goes without saying.”
It didn’t, normally. But there was no denying that Kiva felt a connection to the healer. They’d both suffered so much in their young lives that it was as if their souls recognized each other, the pain, the hurt . . . the healing.
“Come on,” Rhess said, turning from the river and pointing to a cluster of market stalls set up further along the water’s edge. “Feelings make me hungry. I need to stress-eat my weight in chocabuns.”
And just like that, their heavy conversation passed.
“Chocabuns?” Kiva asked.
Rhess looked at her, aghast. “Don’t tell me they didn’t serve you
chocabuns in prison?”
Kiva sent her a deadpan expression.
The healer grabbed Kiva’s elbow and dragged her toward the stalls. “My friend, your life is about to change forever.”
Rhessinda was right — and she was wrong.
The chocabuns turned out to be divine: smooth, velvety chocolate chunks mixed into a dough that melted in her mouth. But as good as they were, they didn’t change Kiva’s life. No, it was what happened after she and Rhess had ingested enough to warrant stomach aches, when they were walking back up the hill to the academy, moaning about never eating again.
It was just as they reached the entrance to Silverthorn and came to a stop, ready to part ways, that a man hobbled past them, heading toward the infirmary. He was holding his side, a look of pain on his face, but when Rhess asked if he needed assistance, he politely declined her offer.
He continued on, and Kiva put him from her mind — or she would have, if not for the tingling she felt in her hands, the glow that erupted at her
fingertips.
Rhess sucked in a breath. “What the —”
Pure, unadulterated panic filled Kiva, and she shoved her magic away, harder than ever before. The golden light winked out like a candle, her skin normal once again, but the force of the suppression left her feeling nauseous, a headache stabbing at her temples.
Rhessinda’s russet eyes were narrowed on Kiva’s hands. “Did you just
see —”
“I need to go to Oakhollow.”
Kiva blurted out the words, partly in an effort to distract Rhess, but mostly because she couldn’t ignore the facts any longer. Three times in three days her magic had risen to the surface against her will. She had no idea what was causing it, but she couldn’t risk it happening again, not while she was living at the palace. If Jaren saw . . . if anyone saw . . .
Kiva needed to speak with her siblings. She couldn’t keep waiting for
them to come to her — they could take days before making contact again.
Weeks, even.
Judging by what was happening with her magic, Kiva might not have that long. She had to risk seeking out Torell and Zuleeka herself, praying they’d be able to help. Neither of them had exhibited magic as children, but that could have changed. Even if it hadn’t, their mother had once possessed healing magic, despite having chosen not to use it in order to keep them safe from discovery. Maybe Tilda had told them something that could explain what was happening to Kiva and how she could bring her magic back under control.
“Oakhollow?” Rhessinda repeated. “What’s in Oakhollow?”
Offering a truth not even Jaren knew, Kiva swallowed and said, “My family.” Swallowing again, she asked, “Do you know how I can get there?”
Rhess was looking at her closely, her gaze shifting from Kiva’s face to her hands and back again. She then shook her head as if deciding that whatever she’d seen must have been a trick of the light, and Kiva nearly fainted with relief.
“It’s fairly easy,” the healer said, pushing windswept hair behind her ear.
“You just follow the River Road and turn off it to leave the city through the South Watch, then head straight through the farmlands until you reach the first crossroads. After that, you take a left, then a right, then . . .”
Rhess continued giving instructions, which Kiva tried to memorize, but the healer soon paused at whatever she saw on Kiva’s face.
“You know what? I’m due to head to Oakhollow for some house calls this week,” she said. “Why don’t I move my trip up to tomorrow, and you can tag along with me? I’ll have to leave you alone for a few hours once we get there, but that’ll give you time with your family, and at least you won’t get lost.”
Kiva was so grateful that she could have hugged the healer. “You don’t mind?”
“I have to go at some point anyway. And you’re not terrible company.”
Rhess’s quick grin told Kiva that maybe she wasn’t the only one to feel a growing friendship between them.
Because of that — and a myriad of other more desperate reasons — Kiva asked, “What time should I meet you?”
They quickly came up with a plan for their departure the next morning, with Kiva intending to leave the palace right after her training session with
Caldon. If anyone asked, she would say she was spending the day with a Silverthorn healer — not a lie, even if it implied she’d be at the academy. It was the perfect cover, Kiva realized, somewhat bitterly. But she pushed away her guilty thoughts to focus on the positive.
Tomorrow she would see her brother and sister again. And while she had things to tell them — and more importantly, needed their help with her magical problem — she was also going to make the most of the opportunity.
She had questions, and it was about damn time they were answered.
