CHAPTER TWENTY
That night when Kiva settled into bed, numerous worries battled for her attention. More than anything else, she couldn’t get Caldon’s furious face out of her mind. She’d never seen him that angry, not even when she’d stabbed him.
She had to go to him, she realized, pushing back her blankets. She had to at least try to make things better. It was the only way she’d be able to soothe her twisting insides.
The problem was, Caldon didn’t sleep in the palace — he slept in the barracks.
Unable to just don a dressing gown and wander down the hall to his room, Kiva had to find a dry cloak and fasten it over her pajamas, tucking her long silk pants inside a fresh pair of boots. Her dark nightclothes were barely visible beneath her cloak, but she was careful to clasp the front tightly as she left her room and ventured downstairs and out into the night.
With the storm having cleared, there was a bite to the air that had Kiva moving swiftly along the path toward the brightly lit barracks. It was late enough that Caldon should be somewhere in the sleeping quarters, which, if she recalled correctly, were located between the mess hall and the private infirmary.
Upon arriving at the entrance, Kiva reached the doors as two guards were walking out, a man and a woman wearing polished armor and clearly on their way to begin the night shift. They looked at her with curiosity, but neither stopped her as she brushed past. Because of that, she turned and asked, “Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Cal — er, Prince Caldon?”
The female guard arched an eyebrow, and Kiva cursed inwardly, realizing how her presence there — in the middle of the night — could be construed. She tightened her fingers around her cloak and kept her head high, willing the blush away from her cheeks.
The male guard — someone Kiva recognized from the training yard — didn’t bat an eyelash, so she hoped that meant he’d keep his companion from
spreading any uncomfortable rumors.
“The prince has a private room,” the man answered, before offering quick directions.
Kiva thanked him and continued inside the building. While curious, she didn’t pause to tour the infirmary, nor did she linger at the multiple doorways she passed, many of which she assumed led to private quarters and meeting rooms, and others to dormitories where the lower-ranked guards bunked together.
As Kiva approached Caldon’s room, nerves fluttered within her. She halted outside his door, staring at the wood and summoning her courage before knocking quietly. When no answer came, she frowned and knocked again, louder.
For one embarrassing moment, Kiva wondered if Caldon had company — the kind he wouldn’t want interrupted. Grimacing, she started backing away, but then the door opened, revealing the prince in sleep trousers and a rumpled, unbuttoned shirt. His hair was tousled and his eyes were squinting into the brighter light of the hallway, indicating he’d just been rudely awoken.
Kiva bit her lip, fearing he’d now have another reason to be angry at her — not that he needed it. As it was, he already appeared to be debating whether or not to close the door on her.
“Please,” she rasped. “I’d really like to talk.”
Caldon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he moved to the side, allowing her entry.
Slipping past him, Kiva looked around his quarters with unveiled interest.
Aside from the bed, desk, bookcase, and wardrobe, the room was bare, the space practical and functional. There was no art on the walls, no clutter on the floor, everything perfectly in its place — with no personality whatsoever. It was so antithetical to everything Caldon was that Kiva felt a thread of alarm, enough that, instead of opening with a repeat of her earlier apology, the first thing she blurted was, “Why don’t you live in the palace?”
Caldon closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his semi-bare chest. “Why are you here, Kiva?”
He didn’t answer her question. But worse, he’d called her by her real name. Not Sunshine, not Sweet Cheeks. She loathed them both — or so she told herself — and yet she would have given anything to hear either of them from him right now.
“May I sit?” Kiva gestured to the chair behind the desk.
Caldon didn’t move from the door. “No.”
Kiva had known this would be difficult, but he wasn’t even trying to make it easier for her.
“I know you’re upset with me,” she said in a placating tone. “You have every right to be.”
“How generous of you,” he said flatly, his face hard.
Wincing, Kiva reminded herself of why he was so angry — and that it wasn’t just because she’d drugged him.
Do you have any idea how that feels, to know someone you care about is missing, possibly in danger, and you don’t know how to find them?
Unable to hold his angry gaze, Kiva looked away, her eyes landing on his desk and seeing something she’d missed during her initial scan, the only hint of color in the otherwise utilitarian space.
It was a small, framed portrait — a boy and girl, both grinning widely with their arms around each other, behind whom stood a man and woman smiling adoringly down at them.
Kiva’s heart gave a painful throb as she shifted closer, her fingers itching to take hold of the frame, but she made herself resist. Even so, she knew exactly what she was looking at: Caldon and his family, before tragedy had
ripped them apart.
“I screwed up,” she whispered.
Caldon straightened in surprise.
“I made a mess of things today. I should have just told you I needed some alone time. I hate —” Her voice broke. “I hate that I put you through that.”
She reached for the portrait then, trailing her fingers gently along the edge.
“I know what it’s like to have your family taken from you,” Kiva said hoarsely. “To feel that emptiness — that pain — and fear it’s never going to
leave you.”
Caldon’s throat bobbed.
“I know how it feels to be left with nothing but darkness,” Kiva went on, before offering a quiet, dangerous admission. “I know what it’s like to become that darkness, how consuming it is. It’s so much easier to hide in the
night than to fight for the light.”
Gods, did she know that.
“I also know how tempting it is not to feel any of those things,” Kiva
whispered. “To shut everyone out so you never have to experience that kind of agony again. I know, Cal. I know.”
He uncrossed his arms, his eyes shining with the hint of tears.
“My family was taken from me ten years ago,” Kiva continued to whisper. “What I did today was wrong, but can you really tell me that if you were given the choice, you wouldn’t do whatever it took to be reunited with your parents again?”
It was a low blow, using his own heartache against him, but nothing Kiva had said was a lie — not this time.
“I truly am sorry,” Kiva said quietly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Caldon’s jaw was clenched tight, but as he looked at Kiva and saw the genuine remorse on her face, he finally loosened it and sighed loudly, before ordering, “Get over here.”
Kiva hesitated, worried that he was about to throw her out.
But then Caldon was moving toward her, his strides long and swift, until suddenly he was drawing her startled body into his arms.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?” he whispered into her ear. He pulled back to hold her eyes, adding much more firmly, “And if you ever — ever — drug me again, I’ll throw your ass in the dungeon for a week. Maybe more. Is that clear?”
Kiva nodded, stunned by his embrace, by his forgiveness.
“You’re right — you screwed up today,” Caldon went on. “But you’re also right that, if ever there was a reason to act as foolishly as you did, then at least it should be for family.” He stepped back, putting some space between them, while still remaining close. “Jaren came and told me everything I missed. I hope your siblings come tomorrow, if only so we can see if they’re
worth all the fuss you caused today.”
Kiva’s insides tumbled at the reminder.
“Are they?”
She blinked at the two almost snapped words. “Are they what?”
“Are they worth it?” Caldon asked, his face serious. “You risked a lot to reunite with them. But despite that, you came back to us afterward. You’re staying with us, not them — that says something.”
As Zuleeka had said over a week earlier, Kiva could hardly spy on the royals from inside the rebel camp. And yet . . . She considered Caldon’s words, wondering where she would choose to live if it were up to her.
She knew the answer immediately, panic hitting her as she realized how
comfortable she was at the palace — not because of how lavish it was, but
because of who she shared it with.
Everworld help her.
Needing to regain a sense of control, Kiva forced a wry grin to her face and asked, “Are you kicking me out?”
Caldon rolled his eyes. “It’s becoming a full-time job to look after you, so no.” His head angled to the side. “Not unless you give me a reason to.”
“I’m not that much trouble,” Kiva argued, if only to keep from admitting that there were multiple reasons why he should keep her away from his family.
“I beg to differ,” he said. “Kidnapped by rebels, attacked by Mirravens, disappearing to places unknown in misguided attempts to visit —”
“Wait,” Kiva cut in. “What do you mean, attacked by Mirravens?”
Caldon leaned a hip against his desk. “I think there was more to your abduction than we understand. Jaren, Naari, Veris — they weren’t there. But after I cleared the building of rebels and came to get you, that next group that ambushed us . . . I don’t think they were connected to the first. I think they wanted something different. That’s why I was so worried about you today — I thought Mirraven had captured you.”
Kiva blanched, recalling that Caldon had already aired his suspicions after the incident and he’d been ignored. But if what he said was true — “Why would Mirraven want me?”
Caldon sent her a sharp look and countered, “Why would the rebels want you?”
Kiva couldn’t answer that, since she couldn’t admit to their fake abduction.
“So you see,” Caldon went on when she didn’t reply, “keeping an eye on you is much easier when I know where you are. Or at least where you should be.” His pointed gaze caught hers. “Stunts like today don’t help.”
Kiva looked guiltily at the ground. She wasn’t sure if she believed Caldon’s claim about Mirraven — the rebels had been recruiting further north, and Zuleeka could have easily left more people behind than she’d implied. That was much more likely than Kiva being targeted by a second, unknown group on the very same night. The coincidence was too great, and she resolved to put it from her mind, having enough to worry about without adding hypothetical concerns to the list.
Yawning loudly, Caldon pushed off from his desk and moved toward the
door. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this midnight chat, I need my beauty sleep.
Let’s get you back to your bed. Big day tomorrow.”
“It’s all right, I can make it on my own,” Kiva said, butterflies swarming anew at his reminder.
“Move your ass, Sunshine,” Caldon said, opening the door and giving a jerk of his chin, apparently not taking no for an answer.
Kiva was just relieved that he’d called her Sunshine again, her butterflies fading as warmth crept back in.
Shuffling past him and out into the slumbering hallways of the barracks, she couldn’t resist repeating, “Why don’t you live in the palace?”
This time, Caldon answered. “I do have rooms up there. Have you seen my wardrobe? Where do you think I keep most of my clothes?” He raised a comical brow, and Kiva stifled a grin. But then she sobered as he went on, “I prefer it down here. I grew up moving from barracks to barracks, so it reminds me of that. Of a different time, of things I —” His voice caught. “Of things I don’t want to forget.”
Kiva’s chest tightened at his admission. Jaren had been wrong when he’d said Caldon was avoiding anything that might remind him of his parents. It was the opposite — Caldon was doing everything he could to remember them. Except, perhaps, the things that hurt too much. Like seeing his sister.
And visiting the army camps. And taking up the mantle of leadership that he’d been born into, that he’d worked hard for, that he’d wanted.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Caldon was punishing himself.
That even three years on, his grief remained raw enough to dictate his decisions.
Kiva could empathize with that, more than anyone. She also knew he wouldn’t want her pity, so she mustered a wry smile and said, “Yeah, I can see why you like it down here. It’s so private. Peaceful, too. And there’s so much space. It’s like your own little haven of solitude.”
She’d timed her comment perfectly for when they walked past an open doorway into one of the larger guard dormitories, the bunks cramped together, the loud sounds of snoring — and other bodily functions — echoing out to them.
Caldon’s lips twitched. “I’m sure we could find you a spare room, if you’d like to move down here.”
Kiva pulled a face, and Caldon’s lip twitch became a full grin.
“It’s cold outside,” Kiva said, not rising to his bait — but that only
amused him more. “You should button up your shirt or you’ll catch a chill.”
Caldon laughed quietly but made no move to fix his outfit. “Abs like these deserve to be seen.”
Kiva shook her head, unable to keep from snorting in response.
With the mood considerably lighter between them, they made their way out of the barracks and up the path to the palace. Upon reaching the front entrance, Kiva insisted that she didn’t need an escort all the way to her bedroom, and quietly bid Caldon a good night.
Just as she was turning away, he called out to her.
“You say you became the darkness, that it consumed you,” he said, his cobalt eyes soft on hers, “but I call bull on that. I’ve never met anyone who shines as brightly as you do.”
And with that unexpected — and profound — compliment, he walked away, leaving her fighting back tears as she stood there in stunned, heartfelt silence.
