CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Unsurprisingly, Kiva couldn’t sleep that night.
After dinner ended, she tossed and turned in bed, guilt and shame keeping her awake until she finally donned a silk robe and left her room.
Given that it was the dead of the night, Kiva didn’t see anyone as she ventured along the gold-and-white corridors, and she didn’t expect that to change when she reached her destination. But upon entering the River Room, she found she wasn’t alone.
Jaren stood beside the window-wall, looking out over the Serin River, blissfully unaware of her presence.
Wearing only loose-fitting long pants, the low light revealed the scars marring his back, all of which Kiva had seen before, many times. Only two nights earlier she’d felt them beneath her hands as he’d comforted her in bed.
But looking at them now, pain lanced through her, the thought of anyone hurting Jaren — the Butcher, his mother, anyone — causing her both physical and emotional distress.
Wars aren’t won without sacrifice, little sister.
Zuleeka’s harsh words blazed across Kiva’s memory.
It’s him or us. Them or us. You can’t have it both ways.
Kiva closed her eyes, certain of only one thing: she was going to hurt Jaren. She would be the reason something horrible happened to him. And she
— And she —
She couldn’t let that happen.
But she also couldn’t stop it.
Staring at him, Kiva felt like she was being ripped in two. On one side was her dedication to her family and their cause. And on the other —
Was Jaren.
But also Caldon.
And Naari.
Young Oriel and Flox.
Even Princess Mirryn and Queen Ariana and King Stellan.
The whole Vallentis family.
Captain Veris, Kiva wasn’t yet sure about, but despite him being there the night her family was destroyed, it wasn’t his sword that had killed her brother. She still remembered his growled words: This wasn’t meant to happen. This never should have happened.
Without her permission, these people had worked their way into her heart, forcing her to see them not as royals and guards, but as human beings.
As a family.
For ten years, all she’d wanted was to ruin the family that had ruined hers. But now that she knew them . . .
I’m tired of seeing good people suffer for a cause I’m not even sure I believe in.
Torell’s words were going to haunt her, she was sure of it.
Unable to withstand her troubled heart, Kiva backed away silently, not wanting to disturb Jaren and risk whatever new kindness he would offer, her very own form of torture. But some sixth sense made him look over his shoulder, his body stilling as he caught sight of her, before relaxing again.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, leaving the window-wall and walking her way.
“Looks like I’m not the only one,” Kiva returned, her voice hoarse with all she was feeling.
“Come sit with me for a bit?” Jaren asked, nodding to the plush lounge.
“I could use the company.”
Peering at him closely, Kiva could see he wasn’t lying. The earlier strain had returned to his features, a deep weariness mixed liberally with unease.
You can get to him in a way no one else can, learn things about him, about his plans, about where he’s most vulnerable.
Zuleeka’s words from days ago returned to Kiva, her inner turmoil growing because she knew what she needed to do.
Moving slowly over to him, she sat on the far edge of the couch and prompted, “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
She’d left him plenty of room, but when Jaren sighed loudly and took a seat beside her, he was close enough for their arms to brush.
“Want to tell me about it?” Kiva offered, part of her wishing he would
say no.
But he didn’t.
Because he was Jaren.
And he trusted her.
So he shared, “The Royal Council is concerned about a threat to the
kingdom.”
“The rebels?” Kiva asked, playing dumb.
“No,” Jaren said. “Well, yes, but also no.”
Kiva waited for him to go on, even if, thanks to her eavesdropping, she already knew what he would say.
“The rebels have been quiet since Tilda’s death,” he said with a quick, apologetic look, knowing how much Tilda had meant to her as a patient.
“They’re still causing some trouble, but nothing like before the winter — aside from their attempt to abduct you, which we can only assume was to remind us that they’re out there.”
He paused, then shared, “There are rumors Tilda left behind an heir old enough to take over, maybe more than one. We won’t know for sure until they restart their attacks.” He blew out a long, frustrated breath, before rolling the tension from his neck. “So until that happens, for the first time in years, they’re not my main concern.”
“But something is troubling you,” Kiva observed, still acting oblivious.
“It has been since we arrived here, with you locked in meetings and looking more and more miserable after each one.”
“Miserable?” Jaren repeated, a hint of humor touching his eyes.
An easy comparison came to Kiva. “Like how Flox looks when he can’t follow you somewhere. That kind of miserable.”
Instead of adding to his mirth, Jaren’s hand quickly covered her mouth.
“Shhh. Don’t say his name or you’ll wake the clingy devil.”
A tilt of his chin over to the window revealed the fluffy creature asleep on the ground, right where Jaren had been standing. As they watched, Flox’s eyes fluttered open, his head popping up fast once he realized he was alone, a mewing sound of distress leaving his mouth. But then he turned and looked their way, his little silver face brightening as he bounded over to them.
Jaren groaned as Flox leapt straight onto his lap, curled up again, and was snoring softly a moment later.
Slicing his eyes to Kiva, Jaren said, “I blame you for this.”
Biting back a laugh, she combed her fingers through Flox’s soft fur. “It’s not my fault you’re so irresistible.”
At first, Kiva didn’t realize what she’d said, but then she noticed Jaren
had gone still beside her, and she mentally replayed the words.
“Irresistible, huh?” he teased, his eyes dancing.
Kiva tried to rally. It was either that or jump out the window and drown herself in the Serin. “You know — to, um, a fox thing.”
If anything, Jaren’s amusement only grew. “A fox thing?”
“Ferret? Racoon? I have no idea what he is.”
Jaren chuckled. “He’s a silverbear.”
Squinting at the dozing creature, Kiva observed, “He looks nothing like a bear.”
“I didn’t come up with the name,” Jaren said, still grinning. “They’re rare, only found in the wilds of Odon’s northern mountains. Flox was a gift
from their king and queen.”
“To Oriel?”
“To me.” Sheepishly, he added, “More a bribe than anything else.”
“Let me guess,” Kiva said dryly. “They have an heir of marriageable age?”
Jaren didn’t meet her eyes, which was confirmation enough. “Ori was lonely at the time. There weren’t many kids around the palace, and Mirry, Cal, Ash, and I were all so busy with politics and training. When Flox arrived, I gave him to my brother, and they became fast friends.”
“And yet, he’s much more obsessed with you,” she noted.
“I hear it’s because I’m irresistible.”
The look Jaren sent Kiva made her want to jump out the window all over again.
Clearing her throat, she returned to their earlier topic. “Before we were interrupted” — she stroked Flox’s spine — “you were talking about a threat to the kingdom.”
Jaren was silent for a long time, long enough for Kiva to wonder if he’d changed his mind about sharing, but then he said, “Do you remember what I told you in Zalindov about the other kingdoms fearing the rebel movement will spread into their lands? How in some cases it already has?”
Kiva bit her cheek and nodded.
“Do you remember what else I said?” Jaren asked. “About Mirraven and Caramor waiting for any sign of weakness?”
“You think they’re going to invade?” she asked, feigning concern — not that she wasn’t concerned.
“Something is stirring up north,” Jaren said, not quite answering. “There
have always been warnings, threats, the usual. But something has changed recently, from around the time we started negotiating with Mirraven for Tilda’s transfer into our custody. They were so difficult, refusing to accept any of our terms, no matter how generous.”
That last part was news to Kiva, and she straightened beside him.
“I’ve only learned about most of this since leaving Zalindov,” he went on, “and it doesn’t make sense to me. We offered them some things they’ve wanted for a long time, including greater access to our luminium stores and looser restrictions for border crossings, both of which would hurt our economy while boosting theirs. But they weren’t interested.”
A strange feeling came over Kiva, and she flattened her free hand against her suddenly churning stomach, recalling her sister’s words from earlier that day.
King Navok was more than happy to make a deal with the Rebel Queen.
In return, he only had to make it so the negotiations between kingdoms resolved with her heading to Zalindov.
Kiva had been so caught up in everything else that she hadn’t thought to question the deal Tilda had proposed in return for Mirraven turning down Evalon’s request for an extradition agreement. But now Kiva couldn’t help wondering — what had her mother offered? What had she done?
“The council fears what their lack of cooperation means, especially since they’re no longer answering any of our missives,” Jaren said. “The same goes for Caramor. Both kingdoms have always envied Evalon — our lands are rich and prosperous while theirs are largely barren. They’ve never hidden their desire to invade us, but with the Tanestra Mountains in their path, and our armies prepared to meet any attacking force, they’ve always been too smart to try. Now, though . . . I can’t help thinking they’ve decided it’s worth the risk, especially while we’re distracted by our internal troubles with the rebels.”
Throat dry, Kiva asked, “Then isn’t it good that the rebels are quiet right now? Because you’re not distracted?”
Jaren nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.
“Why do you still look so concerned?” Kiva asked.
“It’s just —” Jaren ran a hand through his hair, the golden ends sticking out all over the place. “I love my people too much not to worry about them.
It’s an intrinsic part of who I am — wanting to keep them safe. So I don’t like the idea of any threat looming over us, even if I’m confident of our own
defenses.”
Kiva couldn’t keep from raising an eyebrow. “You’re the heir to the richest land in Wenderall. You’re always going to have threats looming over you.”
Jaren made a sound that was part laugh, part groan. “Believe me, I know.” He then straightened his shoulders and said, “Even if Mirraven and Caramor decide to try, they won’t make it very far into Evalon. We have too many defenses blocking them. It’s a fool’s errand, and that’s the only reason I’m able to sleep at night.”
When Kiva turned skeptically toward the darkened windows, Jaren amended, “Well, most nights.”
“So you’re worried in general, but not about anything specific,” she summarized.
“I’m worried about plenty of specific things.” Jaren looked at Flox and added, somewhat dryly, “Like whether I’ll ever be able to leave this couch.”
“Such a conundrum,” Kiva teased.
Jaren smiled, but then he quickly sobered. “Speaking of leaving, I meant to tell you earlier, but we got distracted by the most humiliating dinner of my
existence.”
Kiva snickered in memory.
“I’m leaving for Fellarion in the morning,” he continued. “The city leaders want to discuss infrastructure and farming and a number of other things that need overseeing. I’ll be gone for at least four days, possibly more.”
“Oh,” Kiva said, secretly delighted. If Jaren was gone, he wouldn’t notice if she went missing for a few hours — and after another near miss with her magic tonight, she was more desperate than ever to find her grandmother.
“Well, uh, thanks for telling me.”
“I was going to invite you along,” he said. “But I’d rather not be responsible for you dying of boredom.”
“I appreciate that,” Kiva said, shuddering inwardly as she recalled the second half of the Royal Council meeting.
“I also heard you’ve been offered a position at Silverthorn,” Jaren added, “and I didn’t want to risk pulling you away from your dream.” He leaned closer, his expression filling with pride. “Congratulations, Kiva.”
Right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams.
Her chest tightened at the remembered words. “I haven’t accepted yet.”
“I heard that, too.” Jaren cocked his head to the side. “I’m just not sure why.”
“I —” Kiva swallowed. “I just want to make sure I’m ready first.”
“Healer Maddis says you are.”
That wasn’t what Kiva had meant by ready. “She only says that because of my father.”
“She knew him?” he asked, surprised. “You told me he was a healer — did he study at Silverthorn?”
“Sort of,” Kiva hedged. “Maddis said he was one of her best students.”
She knew better than to give Jaren more of her family history — he already knew too much for comfort. And yet . . . he’d still defended Faran to the Royal Council. Kiva, too, by association.
“Like father, like daughter,” Jaren said, looking at her warmly and sliding a comforting arm behind her shoulders.
Kiva couldn’t speak for a long moment, his words resonating deeply.
It was true — she was like her father. She had his healer’s heart, his compassion for people, and, long ago, she’d also had his eternal optimism.
But then Zalindov had happened.
And Faran had been taken from her.
In all the time since then, she’d become so obsessed with vengeance that she hadn’t stopped to think about what he would have wanted. For her. For their family.
Or perhaps she hadn’t considered it because she already knew the answer.
Faran would have wanted them to forgive, and to move on. He would have wanted them to chase their dreams, to be happy, to live.
He wouldn’t have wanted them bent on revenge.
He would have just wanted them safe.
And deep down, Kiva knew he would be turning in his grave if he knew what his children were up to.
“Speaking of fathers,” Kiva said, croaking slightly and needing to not think about her own. She settled deeper into the lounge, unintentionally leaning into Jaren. “King Stellan, is he — um —”
“Is he what?”
In a whisper, Kiva asked, “Is he sick?”
Jaren froze beside her. But then his arm curled tighter, either to comfort himself or to comfort her as he breathed out a quiet, “Yeah.”
“Is it terminal?” Kiva kept whispering.
Jaren nodded. “It’s in his blood.” His free hand smoothed Flox’s ears as he shared, “There’s been more bad days than good lately. That’s why you didn’t meet him before tonight — he’s been in bed all week.”
Softly, Kiva asked, “How long does he have?”
“We don’t know,” Jaren admitted, just as softly. “It could be years, but
most likely months. Possibly weeks.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”
Shaking his head, Jaren said, “We’ve tried everything. Now we just keep him as comfortable as possible.”
Seeing the raw pain on his face, Kiva erased the last of the distance between them, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his stomach, being careful not to dislodge Flox. She knew it wasn’t wise, that she should keep her distance, physically and emotionally.
She knew — but she didn’t care.
Not when Jaren was upset.
Not when he needed her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
In response, he placed a soft kiss on her temple.
Silence fell between them, long enough for Kiva to decide it was time to return to her room. But just as she was about to do so, her eyes drifted shut and she descended into sleep.
