CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When Kiva woke the next morning, her entire torso was plastered to Jaren’s, their legs tangled in an impressive feat of flexibility.
Panic hit her, but she told herself to remain calm. She just had to slip away before he stirred. If she could extricate herself without jostling him too
much, then — “Morning.”
Kiva froze, barely having managed to remove her arm, let alone anything else.
“You’re not trying to sneak off, are you?” Jaren asked, his voice husky
and yet still bubbling with humor.
“Erm . . .”
Moving impossibly fast, Jaren flipped them both over, the breath whooshing out of Kiva as she found herself on her back and looking up into his highly amused face.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” he murmured, kissing the hinge of her jaw. “Good morning, Kiva.”
A garbled sound left her, her stomach pooling with heat as his lips moved boldly to her neck and kissed the sensitive spot right beneath her ear.
“Did you sleep well?” he whispered there, his mouth brushing her skin with each word, prompting a delicious shiver to travel down her spine.
Another unintelligible sound left her, causing him to chuckle quietly and say, “I did, too.”
Kiva gripped his bare waist, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. Before she could decide, he drew back and looked down at her with a soft expression. “Spend the day with me.”
Her mind was so addled by his touch that it took her a moment to respond. “Pardon?”
The word was breathy enough that she would have been mortified if Jaren’s eyes hadn’t softened even further, with him instantly ducking down and placing a feather-light kiss on the corner of her mouth, as if he couldn’t
help himself. It happened so fast that Kiva would have wondered if she’d imagined it, if not for the tingling that remained in its wake.
“Spend the day with me,” he repeated.
This time, Kiva ignored everything he was making her feel in an attempt to focus. “Don’t you have meetings?”
“I’ll reschedule.” He leaned in until his face was all she could see.
“Please. I need a day off. And I want to spend it with you.”
It would have taken a much stronger person than Kiva to say no, especially when he was looking at her like . . . like . . . like that.
“All right,” she surrendered. “But if you mean the whole day, then you’re telling Caldon.”
Another quiet chuckle from Jaren. “I think you can survive missing one training session.” He tilted his head toward his balcony. “And besides, it’s already well past dawn.”
Kiva followed his gaze and gasped at the bright sunlight, having no idea how she’d slept so late. “He’s going to kill me tomorrow,” she moaned, already fearing the punishing workout.
“Then we’d better make sure today is worth your inevitable demise.”
With those mirth-filled words, Jaren lifted his weight off Kiva and pulled her out of bed, his arms remaining loosely wrapped around her.
“How’s this for a plan,” he said. “You go get dressed while I rearrange a few things, and I’ll meet you at your suite in twenty minutes. I know a great breakfast place right on the river that makes the best egg and bacon rolls in all of Wenderall, so we’ll grab something to eat, and then —” He grinned.
“Well, then you’ll see.”
“You’re being very mysterious,” Kiva told him.
His grin widened. “You’re one to talk.”
Kiva had no defense to that, so she rolled her eyes and pushed away from him, walking toward the door. She’d just opened it and was about to step through when Jaren called her name, making her pause and turn back to him.
“Best sleep I’ve ever had,” he said quietly.
Kiva swallowed at the look that had returned to his eyes. She wanted to lie, but what came out was the absolute, undeniable truth. “Me too.”
Jaren was right about the egg and bacon rolls. One bite and Kiva nearly inhaled the rest, having eaten so little the previous day. The taste also helped wash away the bitterness of Delora’s potion, which Kiva had downed the
moment she’d returned to her room. With only one mouthful now left in the vial, she would have to find her way back to her grandmother tomorrow as agreed, but that, she decided, was something she could worry about later.
“I told you,” Jaren said as they meandered along the river, noting how quickly she finished her roll and graciously handing over what remained of his.
Kiva thought about objecting, but she didn’t have the willpower — like most things when it came to Jaren. It was only after she was done and licking her fingers that both rolls reached her stomach, making her regret her poor life choices.
“You’re looking a bit uncomfortable there,” Jaren said, lips twitching as he watched her holding her belly and moaning. “Do you think you can walk up the hill, or should I carry you?”
He gestured toward a familiar road, one Kiva had traveled numerous times since arriving in the city.
“You’re taking me to Silverthorn?” she asked, tilting her head in puzzlement. The amulet shifted around her neck, a reminder that it was resting beneath her sweater, protecting her from harm. “I’m not that unwell. I just ate too much.”
Jaren chuckled and wound an arm around her waist, leading her off the crowded River Road and onto the quieter side street toward the academy.
“We’re not going there for you.”
Alarm filled Kiva. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he answered quickly. “We’re not going there for me, either.”
He paused. “Well, I guess we kind of are. But not in a way that —” He broke off. “Never mind. You’ll see when we get there.”
Her curiosity piqued, Kiva followed him up the hill, expecting to walk right through the front gates. But before they reached the campus, Jaren guided her between two narrow apartment buildings, moving deeper into the shadows until he was certain they were out of sight.
“This isn’t creepy at all,” Kiva stated, looking around.
“If you think this is bad, never accept Caldon’s offer for a night out on the town,” Jaren returned, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing two small golden objects. “Especially if he mentions chasing the spirits of our ancestors or hunting the ghosts of the gods.”
Kiva blinked for a long moment, before slowly saying, “There’s so much there that I don’t even know what to ask.”
Jaren chuckled. “It’s a story that can wait for our next family night.” He held out one of the golden items. “Here.”
Kiva took it, turning it over in her hands. An uneasy feeling hit her at the sight of the simple but elegant mask, but this one wasn’t silver and there were no coiled serpents, so she swallowed her trepidation and asked, “What’s this for?”
Jaren peeled back his mask and affixed it to his face. “For what we’re about to do, I have to be Prince Deverick.” He pointed to his masked features, a self-conscious look coming over him as he indicated what she held and added, “If you don’t mind, I think you should wear one, too.”
Kiva frowned. “But I’m not royal. No one cares who I am.”
The reason for his unexpected look became clear when he said, “Humor me. I’m . . . thinking ahead.”
The breath left Kiva at his implication, Tipp’s family portrait flitting across her mind, the image of her and Jaren holding hands and wearing crowns impossible to forget.
Perhaps you might share with us your intentions for her.
Councilwoman Zerra’s words returned to Kiva, an odd swooping sensation hitting her, the feeling not entirely unpleasant.
Jaren didn’t seem to expect a response, and after waiting for her nod of consent, he plucked the mask from her numb fingers, gently sticking it to her face.
“It suits you,” he murmured, smoothing down the edges.
Kiva was having trouble drawing air into her lungs, but she managed to wheeze out, “Erm, thank you.”
Jaren grinned, his mask ending at the tip of his nose, leaving his mouth visible. His eyes were like twin pools of sunlit ocean staring out from behind the golden filigree, impossibly beautiful and frustratingly distracting.
Kiva cleared her throat and looked away, touching the cool metal on her face. “All right, Prince Deverick,” she said, his official name feeling strange on her tongue. “I think it’s time you explained why we’re heading to Silverthorn.”
Jaren didn’t respond other than to grin wider and lead her onto the campus. She tried to keep an eye out for Rhessinda as they traveled the stone pathways, but was distracted when they started up a fork in the path toward the infirmary for long-term patient care and rehabilitation.
As soon as they stepped into the large building, it became clear that Jaren
knew his way around the sterile hallways, with healers and residents waving as they passed, none surprised to see him. They did, however, send curious glances toward Kiva, making her grateful that the mask shielded her from their prying looks.
“Nearly there,” Jaren said as they ascended a wide, spiraling ramp up to
the higher levels.
“Nearly where?”
Once again, he didn’t answer, but he did halt when they reached the top of the ramp, turning to her and asking, “Would you mind if I borrowed your amulet? I have to wear it when I’m here because — well, you’ll understand in a minute.”
Kiva squinted at him in question, but when he just waited patiently, she huffed out a breath and fished the amulet from beneath her sweater, handing it over. He immediately placed it around his own neck, making sure the crest was resting over his clothes, clear for all to see. Only then did he continue guiding her along a white corridor until they reached a closed door at the end.
Frustrated by the lack of answers, Kiva started to say, “Jaren —” just as he opened the door. Before she could finish, multiple shrieks of “PRINCE DEVERICK!” pierced her ears, and she abruptly swallowed her complaint.
Kiva stood in the doorway, stunned, as the beaming Jaren strode into the room, waving to all the delighted faces around him.
Children, Kiva mentally corrected — waving to all the delighted children around him.
One quick glance at the small beds lined up beside each other, the mishmashed art plastered to the walls, and the colorful toys strewn haphazardly across the floor told Kiva that they were in the children’s ward of the long-term patient infirmary.
And at the center of it all was the crown prince, his arms stretched wide as the children scrambled from their beds — some much slower and weaker
than others — and hurried over to him.
“He’s always so good with them.”
Kiva turned to find a white-robed Silverthorn healer having crept up beside her, the middle-aged, dark-skinned woman watching the prince with clear adoration — not for who he was, but for what he was doing. Because as Kiva watched, Jaren raised his hands . . . and the children started flying.
Squeals of joy left them as they zoomed around the ward, with Jaren seeming to know who needed to be more careful and treating them
accordingly. Parents and visitors looked on, all smiling at the prince with love and appreciation, as if they’d seen this before. Numerous times.
It was enough for Kiva to turn to the healer and ask, “Does he come here often?”
“Every week,” the woman replied, motioning for Kiva to step further into the room. “Well, at least when he’s here in the city. He was gone for most of the winter — the children were devastated — but he came again as soon as he returned. He’s so generous with his time, especially since he divides his hours evenly amongst the other places, too.”
Kiva watched as Jaren waved his hand and flowers appeared around the room, joined by blossoming vines that crept across the ceiling and up the walls, the ward coming alive with natural beauty. And with it, Kiva suddenly
understood why he’d needed the amulet.
It was a cover.
The public knew Prince Deverick controlled both wind and fire magic, but nothing more. If he’d been here and done this before, he must have come up with a story about the amulet, making them believe his family had imbued it with power for him to manipulate — when really, he wasn’t using it at all.
Kiva’s throat grew tight and she rasped out, “Other places?”
The healer nodded. “Oh, yes. He gets around, our Prince Deverick. He visits all the orphanages, the elderly respites, even helps feed and clothe the homeless down near the docks. Whatever he can do to ease the suffering of others.”
Tears prickled the back of Kiva’s eyes, her throat tightening even more, keeping her from forming a response.
The healer noted her reaction and stepped closer to quietly say, “Queen Ariana is respected well enough, but Prince Deverick? He’s the people’s prince. He’s our prince. The day he inherits the throne will be the best day in Evalon’s history.” She shifted her gaze to Jaren, who had returned all the children to the ground and was now juggling fire balls to their shrieks and laughter. “That young man is destined for greatness. He’s going to be the best king we’ve ever seen. I’m certain of it.”
Kiva couldn’t take any more.
Because as Jaren summoned water droplets and made them sparkle like beads of light, wowing the children anew, she couldn’t help looking at him and knowing down to her bones that the healer was right. He would be a wonderful king — the best king.
And her family was planning to take that from him.
She was planning to take that from him.
“Goodness, Healer Tura, what did you say to our visitor? She looks like she’s about to be ill.”
Kiva forced her eyes from Jaren to see the Matron Healer entering the ward, evidently recognizing her despite the mask.
“We were just talking about how wonderful the prince is, Matron,” Tura said. Her eyes turned alert as she looked at her charges. “If you’ll excuse me, it looks like young Katra is about to cause some mischief.”
She headed quickly toward a little girl who was tying one of Jaren’s still- growing vines around her own feet, clearly hoping it might rise enough to dangle her in the air now that he’d set all the flying children back down.
“I was hoping to see you again, Miss Meridan,” Healer Maddis said once they were alone. “When I heard Prince Deverick was here with a companion, I hurried over to see if it was you.”
“I’m sorry, Matron Healer,” Kiva said, “but if this is about me attending —”
Maddis waved her hand. “I said you could take your time deciding, and I meant that.” She pulled a jar from her robes, a pale ointment contained within, and held it out. “I came to bring you this.”
Kiva unstoppered the lid, noting familiar scents but unable to identify
every ingredient. “What is it?”
“It’s for your hand.”
It took Kiva a moment to process the words, but when she did, her eyes shot up to meet Maddis’s.
Unaware of her sudden distress — or perhaps ignoring it — the Matron Healer went on, “It won’t erase the scarring completely, but it will promote regeneration of the cells, helping it to fade over time.” She tilted her chin toward Jaren. “Our prince might like to use some, too.”
And then, revealing she could sense everything churning within Kiva, Maddis gently took her left hand, pulling back the sleeve to expose the Z scar — the same scar Kiva had been certain would doom her if the Matron Healer learned about it.
“Our scars define us,” Maddis said quietly, the tip of her finger tracing the three slashed lines. “They tell a story of courage and survival. They tell of who we are at our deepest being, of the challenges we’ve faced and overcome.” Whispering now, she patted Kiva’s hand and finished, “Not all
scars are as visible as this. I daresay you have many more on the inside. But never forget that every scar is beautiful. And you should never, ever, be ashamed of them.”
With the kindest of smiles, Maddis released Kiva and turned back toward the doors, leaving without another word.
Overwhelmed, Kiva just stood there, breathing deeply.
Maddis knew she’d been in Zalindov.
Knew, and didn’t care.
She hadn’t rescinded her offer and told Kiva she could no longer be a student, hadn’t crushed her dreams.
No — only Kiva was doing that. Kiva and her commitment to her family and their mission and everything that was keeping her from the life she wanted, including Silverthorn. Even now, after the betrayal she’d learned of yesterday, after everything she could no longer deny feeling for Jaren, even now she was still faithful to her brother and sister and their plans for vengeance.
Because after ten years, she didn’t know how not to be.
Even if she wished — so desperately wished — she could let it all go.
Her heart and mind at war, Kiva glanced up and caught Jaren’s content gaze. Seeing that she was now alone, he held out a hand, beckoning her over.
And so, with a tight smile, she pocketed the jar and strode toward him, beaming genuinely at the children who squealed with renewed delight at having another visitor to play with.
“What do you say we have some fun?” Jaren asked her.
Looking at him, Kiva’s smile grew even as her heart broke, and she answered, “Let’s do it.”
Kiva and Jaren spent almost the entire day at Silverthorn, moving from ward to ward and bringing joy to children and adults alike. It didn’t matter that she had no elemental magic, because Jaren was more than eager to follow any requests she made. With a wave of his hand, he had entire rooms filling with bubbles that refused to pop, fire animals frolicking around water fountains, and tropical forests springing up out of nothing.
Over the course of the day, so many healers spoke with Kiva, sharing how much Jaren’s generosity meant to the children and their families, claiming it was the highlight of their weeks.
The people’s prince, Healer Tura had called him.
She wasn’t wrong.
With each new child’s laugh and each new thrill of Jaren’s magic, Kiva was forced to acknowledge that she was in more trouble than she’d thought.
Because every time Jaren looked at her, smiled at her, touched her, she knew deep down what she would do if they ever had another night like last night, another morning like that morning.
She wouldn’t push him away.
She would hold on to him, for as long as she could, for as long as he’d let
her.
Because she was in — “You’re very quiet,” Jaren said, bringing her thoughts to a screeching
halt.
Her dangerous, dangerous thoughts.
“Hmm?” Kiva replied, praying her face didn’t betray her and wishing they hadn’t removed their masks upon leaving the academy grounds.
“I didn’t mean to tire you out,” he continued as they walked slowly along the River Road back toward the palace, the sun setting in the distance. “I just wanted to show you that my life isn’t always filled with council meetings and dreary politics. And I thought —” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the amulet that was once more around her neck. “I guess I wanted to share something with you that I’ve never shared with anyone else. I thought you might appreciate it. Enjoy it, even.”
Kiva saw every expression shifting across his features, the doubt, the self- consciousness, the uncertainty. All there because of how much he felt for her, and how much her opinion meant to him.
Her voice was rough with emotion when she replied, “I did appreciate it.
And I did enjoy it. More than I can say.”
He sent her a relieved grin, but it faded quickly at whatever he saw on her face.
Tugging her to the side and halting them next to the railing, he asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? All day, it’s like there’s been a . . . sadness about you.” He eyed her carefully. “Is it because of the children? I thought you’d be all right with it, as a healer.” Quickly, he added, “Not that you’d be fine with them being sick, I just meant —”
“I know what you meant,” Kiva said, cutting him off. She’d thought she’d hid her misery well, but as always, he was able to read her better than most.
Use it, came a voice that sounded suspiciously like Zuleeka. Use this opportunity. He’s giving you the perfect opening.
“I —” Kiva started, and then stopped. The amulet shifted, as if it were begging her not to do this. Or perhaps that was merely her own heart.
There are things he doesn’t even share with the Royal Council, with his family . . . But you have his ear.
That was definitely Zuleeka’s voice — and it kept coming.
Find us a legitimate way to take the throne, something that will make Evalon accept us as their new rulers without contention.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Kiva turned to lean on the rail, unable to look at Jaren as she said, “It was hard, seeing you with them today. How much you love them. How much they love you.”
Jaren leaned beside her, his arm resting against hers. “Why was that
hard?”
“Because —”
Do it, sister.
“Because —”
It’s him or us. Them or us. You can’t have it both ways.
Kiva closed her eyes at the memory. She had made her choice then. And she had to stick with it.
“Because I couldn’t help worrying about something happening to you. To your family.” She pushed the words out fast, as if doing so would make it easier.
A startled sound of humor left Jaren. “What?”
Committed now, Kiva explained, “I know you’re not worried about the rebels at the moment. But —” She made herself look at him with fear in her eyes. “But they abducted me, Jaren. And that means they’re still conspiring.
What if they’ve found a way to hurt you?”
Eyebrows rising, Jaren asked, with clear incredulity, “You’re worried about the rebels?”
His sentiment was genuine, despite having been attacked by rebels himself only two nights earlier.
“If they try to take the throne —” Kiva said, but she was cut off when another startled laugh left him.
“Let me stop you there.” He cupped her face, his voice gentling. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Kiva. I promise you. As much of an annoyance as they are, they’ll never have the numbers required to take the
kingdom by force. And even if they did, our citizens would never accept a ruler who spilled so much innocent blood.”
“But what if they’ve found another way?” Kiva asked, keeping an anxious furrow on her brow. “What if they know of something lawful that forces you to abdicate and the people to accept them?” Swallowing back bile, she made herself add, “If they have a Corentine heir among them, they’d have a valid claim, wouldn’t they?”
“Firstly, that’s unconfirmed,” Jaren said.
“But you believe it’s true,” Kiva pressed.
He acknowledged her point and continued, “And secondly, you’re right.
There is a way they could, theoretically, be willfully accepted by the people.”
Kiva’s heart stopped in her chest.
“But when I say ‘theoretically,’” he went on, “the chance of it happening is so slim — impossible, really — that it’s not even worth thinking about.”
Barely able to push sound through her lips, Kiva asked, “How can you be sure?”
Jaren was silent for a long minute, just looking at her. She didn’t have to try to school her face, dread filling it without any effort at all.
“You really are concerned about this, aren’t you?” Jaren finally murmured, his hand shifting around to the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her skin in comfort.
“You have no idea how much,” Kiva answered, speaking true.
He gave her one more comforting stroke before trailing his hand down her arm until their fingers tangled once more.
“Come with me,” he told her quietly. “I want to show you something.”
