CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jaren led Kiva to the less familiar western palace, guiding her through the halls until they came to a set of large gilded doors that opened into a library so magnificent that Kiva spent a full minute turning in a circle with her mouth open.
As with the rest of the palace, the library was colored gold and white, but here the walls were made of bookshelves that rose at least three floors high, with spiraling ladders between them and balconies on each level, all looking down to the open floor that was sparse but for the numerous comfortable reading chairs. In the center of it all and stretching up to the muraled ceiling sat a massive, twisting trunk of a pale oak tree, like an ancient guardian watching over the tomes.
“I take it you haven’t been in here before?” Jaren said, mirth filling his tone at Kiva’s reaction.
She could only shake her head, awed into silence.
Jaren chuckled softly, then led her deeper into the open space, toward the base of the leafless oak tree. “At the risk of you never leaving, there’s an entire section on the second floor dedicated to herbal lore and the healing arts. Silverthorn residents often make requests if their own library falls short on a specific subject.”
Kiva longed to run straight up the nearest spiraling staircase and bury herself in what could only be the rarest of books, but she shook off her wondrous daze and asked, “Why did you bring me here?”
“To show you this.” Jaren stopped before the tree trunk and indicated a small shelf that had been cut into the wood. On it lay a single book, the leather aged, the pages discolored and frail, and yet given how old it was — and what it was — it was remarkably well preserved. By magic, no doubt.
“Is this what I think it is?” Kiva whispered reverently as she read the title.
“The Book of the Law,” Jaren confirmed, opening the cover and flipping through the ancient pages. His serious eyes locked with Kiva’s. “No one other than my mother and the Royal Council knows what I’m about to tell
you. The ruling monarch, their chosen heir, and Evalon’s supreme governors — that’s how it’s been since Sarana Vallentis sat on the throne and created the laws which we uphold to this day.” He tapped a finger against the book.
“My father doesn’t even know, nor do Mirry or Cal or Ori or anyone else.
Just Mother, the council, and me. I need you to understand what I’m saying.”
Kiva understood. He was trusting her. With his life — and with his kingdom.
In a wobbling voice, she said, “Maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”
Part of her prayed that he wouldn’t.
Because that same part feared that whatever he was about to share could spell his doom.
It’s him or us. Them or us. You can’t have it both ways.
Kiva shoved her sister’s voice away.
“It’s important to me that you feel safe here,” Jaren said quietly, “that you’re not worried about a future that will never happen. It goes without saying that this is my greatest secret — Evalon’s greatest secret — but if it’s going to help you sleep better at night, then I want you to know it. I trust you, Kiva. You have to know that by now.”
Please stop, Kiva wanted to say. Please don’t.
But she held her tongue as Jaren flipped more pages, before pausing and pointing at the aged ink.
The scrolling calligraphy was written in ancient Evalonian, a language only the most educated of scholars still understood. At the very bottom was an addendum in minuscule print, the lettering so small that Kiva had to squint to make out the individual words.
It was to this addendum that Jaren was pointing as he said, “I told you that there’s a way the rebels could, theoretically, take over leadership of the kingdom in a legitimate manner, and the means to do so is written right here.”
Kiva’s heart sped up to unhealthy levels.
“It’s a clause buried in the fine print of our very own laws, one that reveals the only instance in which the citizens of Evalon must yield — peacefully — to a new monarch. Similarly, any current rulers must also surrender to the new leadership without contention.”
Kiva wondered if she was about to pass out.
“The clause states that the person or persons who possess the Royal Ternary in its entirety have an automatic right to the throne, above and
beyond all blood ties, political powers, and royal lineages,” Jaren recited. His brow crinkled in thought. “So really, I suppose it doesn’t matter if the rebels have a Corentine heir or not. But since their entire movement is founded on the misguided premise of avenging Torvin for something he deserved in the first place, then I assume they’d flail without one of his descendants to lead them.”
Kiva’s head was spinning. The Royal Ternary — the words she’d heard the Royal Council speak during their meeting, the same words she’d asked her siblings about, none of them knowing just how secretive the answer might be.
Despite her internal struggle, Kiva ignored what Jaren had said about Torvin in favor of asking the only acceptable question, her voice hardly more than a croak: “What’s the Royal Ternary?”
“It’s three objects,” Jaren answered, flipping through the pages again.
“The first is this —” He tapped a finger against the Book of the Law. “The second is the Royal Signet — a golden ring worn by the current ruler of Evalon. My family’s crest was fashioned to imitate it, so it’s basically a much smaller version of the amulet you’re wearing, just without the power to channel magic.”
Thinking of the ring she’d seen on Ariana’s finger last night — and countless times before — Kiva asked, “Your mother wears it?”
Jaren nodded. “When I inherit the throne, it’ll pass to me.”
Kiva couldn’t meet his eyes. “And the third object?”
Jaren pointed to the new page he’d opened. On it was a drawing of two outstretched hands holding a simple jewel, spherical and without color, like a shining diamond or the purest of crystals.
“The Eye of the Gods,” Jaren said. “It’s the reason why you don’t have to worry about anyone taking the kingdom from us.”
Peering at the jewel, Kiva asked, “The Eye of the what?”
“Let’s sit,” he said, guiding her to the nearest reading lounge. Once comfortable, he answered, “You already know the tale of Torvin and Sarana — or, one of the tales. The story you shared in Zalindov is one I’ve heard before, but it’s not the only one. And it’s not the one I believe.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. All the tales start out the same, with them falling in love. Can we agree on that?”
Kiva nodded, curious about the other stories he’d heard, but not enough to interrupt him.
“Legend claims that when they ruled together, some of the ancient gods still lingered in this world, not yet having left to watch over the everworld,”
Jaren said. “Upon the union of Sarana and Torvin, those gods decided they were no longer needed, believing our people safe and our lands protected by the powerful magic the two rulers possessed. As a parting gift, they bestowed a precious jewel — the Eye of the Gods — upon the newlyweds, a blessing to mark their worthiness as leaders. To this day, it’s said that whoever holds the Eye has the gods’ approval to rule in their stead.”
“You told me the Eye is the reason I don’t have to worry,” Kiva managed through numb lips. “Nothing you’ve just said makes me feel any better.”
Jaren chuckled. He actually chuckled. “Breathe, Kiva,” he said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “The reason you don’t have to worry is because the Eye is almost impossible for anyone to steal. We keep it —”
“Don’t tell me,” Kiva blurted.
Jaren shook his head indulgently at her, even more amused, and said, “I told you I trust you. And besides, my sharing where it is won’t cause any harm. You’d literally have to get through an entire army to steal it.”
Kiva blinked, not following.
“The Eye travels with the current general of Evalon’s armies,” Jaren revealed. “Right now, Ashlyn has it, hundreds of miles north of here. Not only does she have powerful wind and earth magic protecting it, but any thieves would need a force large enough to overcome our significant military numbers — and therefore, they’d already have a force large enough to conquer Evalon without needing the Ternary at all.” He paused, making sure she was paying close attention, as he finished, “The rebels don’t have that kind of force. And if they ever came close, we’d take other precautions.”
Slowly, the tightness within Kiva began to ease.
“Mirraven and Caramor, on the other hand,” Jaren said, his tone conversational but his face hardening, “their alliance is a concern, since they do have those kinds of numbers, collectively. But even if they knew the true value of the Eye — which they don’t — they wouldn’t care. They’re not after a legitimate means to take Evalon. They wouldn’t bother with the Royal Ternary — they’d just use their armies to take over.” He squeezed her hand again, perhaps feeling the return of her tension. “But that’s not going to happen. We’re watching the mountain passes closely, and we have all the advantages on our side. They can’t beat us. Mirraven, Caramor — and definitely not the rebels. None of them pose a true threat to Evalon, and
Royal Ternary or not, they never will.”
Kiva didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Jaren had just told her how to take his throne — and also revealed that it was all but impossible.
Relief and devastation warred within her. . . . But relief won.
Releasing a long, shaky breath, Kiva said, “So this clause says someone has to have all three objects? Not one or two, but all of them? And that’s the only way they can be considered true rulers?”
“All three,” Jaren confirmed, smiling at whatever he saw on her face. “So you can relax. The Eye is well protected and the Book and the Signet are kept safe here at the palace. The Royal Ternary clause can’t be enacted without all three.”
“And there’s no other way for someone to take power, outside of bloodshed?” Kiva pressed.
Jaren laughed quietly. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re planning to overthrow me yourself.”
Kiva forced out her own breathy laugh, aware of how desperate she was sounding. “Sorry,” she said. “I just —”
“I understand,” he cut in gently. “You’re worried. But I hope you now realize you don’t have to be.”
She did realize that, just as she realized that ten years of her life had been dedicated to a cause that had no chance of succeeding. Even if the rebels one day outmanned the royal armies, the Evalonian people wouldn’t abide a bloody transfer of power. Unless the rebels survived the warfare and were then able to steal the Eye from the magic-wielding general — doubtful, if Ashlyn Vallentis was anything like her family — then without the Royal Ternary clause making them stand down, the citizens of Evalon would fight back.
Kiva, however, had a feeling that the rebels might not care about that, especially with Zuleeka as their commander. As their future queen.
Wars aren’t won without sacrifice, little sister.
“Come on,” Jaren said, breaking into her uneasy thoughts. “While we’re here, let me give you a proper tour.”
And so Kiva followed the crown prince around the magnificent library, mulling over everything he had shared . . . and having no idea how to feel about it.
When Kiva returned to her room later that night, there was a note waiting on her bed. Her muscles clenched when she recognized her sister’s familiar handwriting, the coded words offering an address and a time, after which was a roughly drawn map with clear directions — the latter two hastily added in Torell’s penmanship.
Uneasy at the thought of a rebel spy slipping the message into her room, Kiva considered ignoring the summons, especially since she was still upset about the disastrous lunch. But as painful as the betrayal was, she’d already resolved to let it go. If she wanted to have any kind of positive relationship with her sister — which, frustratingly, she still did — then she should at least hear what Zuleeka had to say.
Kiva looked at the address again, noting that it was down at the docks, a reasonable walk away. The meeting time was quickly approaching, so without second-guessing herself, she grabbed a cloak and strapped Naari’s dagger beneath her boot before sneaking out.
While Kiva wasn’t doing anything wrong in meeting up with her siblings — ignoring who they really were, of course — she decided to be cautious and use the secret iron grate exit, not wanting to risk anyone seeing her leave through the front gates.
Once she was aboveground again, Kiva jogged across the parkland to the luminium-lit city streets. She then ventured northeast, keeping Tor’s map in mind while also relying on her memories from when Caldon had given her a tour of the docks last week.
Located beside the harbor, where the Serin River flooded out to meet the Tetran Sea, the docks were the first port of call for any ships traveling to and from Vallenia. Largely made up of warehouses and other storage buildings, they bustled with activity during the day as crewmen loaded and unloaded vessels of all sizes, and pop-up street markets sold local seafood alongside rare silks, spices, soaps, perfumes, and numerous other goods from across the ocean, all peddled by incessant vendors.
At night, however, the docks were nearly deserted — as Kiva soon discovered upon her arrival. She cursed her siblings for choosing such an isolated meeting point, even if she understood the necessity.
Pulling her cloak tighter, Kiva hurried along the darkened streets until she reached the address she’d been given, finding a small warehouse tucked between two much larger ones. She was just about to search for the entrance
when she heard her name called from the claustrophobic alleyway between the buildings, and she squinted into the blackness to see Tor and Zuleeka waving her over.
“Couldn’t we have done this in the daytime?” Kiva complained as soon as she reached them, the space so tight that they were nearly standing on top of each other. “You two might have had a decade of learning how to defend yourselves, but I can barely swing a wooden sword. If anyone is murdered tonight, we all know who it’ll be.”
Tor grinned at her grumbled rant, but Zuleeka’s lips didn’t so much as twitch.
Kiva looked warily at her sister, noting her uncomfortable expression.
“Thank you for coming,” Zuleeka said, shifting from foot to foot and avoiding Kiva’s gaze. “I — We — I —” She blew out a frustrated breath and tried again. “I called you here so I could say sorry. For yesterday. For what you learned, but more, for how you learned it. I didn’t handle that well. Any of it. Including my behavior during lunch. And I know it’s no excuse, but it was just — it was hard to be there, at the palace. With them. I let that cloud my judgment, when I shouldn’t have.”
A startled breath left Kiva. She hadn’t known why she’d been summoned, but she certainly hadn’t expected a stammered apology. Especially not one that sounded genuine.
“Zulee has thought long and hard about everything that happened,” Tor said, his crossed arms and hard features making it clear that he’d pushed her to do so. “She knows what she did was wrong — not just yesterday, but also not freeing you from Zalindov.”
“It was Mother,” Zuleeka defended quickly. “She really did tell me you were safer there, especially with your magic. That we were safer, too. And I was young, Kiva. Young and scared. So I listened to her. Her reasons made sense — that if you were discovered, we’d all be discovered. It could have ruined everything. But with you in Zalindov and us moving from place to place, if something had happened while you were locked away, no one would have been able to find us. And —” She stopped, as if catching herself.
Kiva had already heard Zuleeka’s argument, and despite there being some logic to it, there wasn’t enough to justify leaving a child in hell. Regardless, she still pressed, “And what?”
Hesitantly, Zuleeka said, “This will sound awful, but —” She took a breath and admitted in a whisper, “I didn’t want to end up at Zalindov, too.
The very idea haunted my nightmares.”
Kiva closed her eyes, unable to look at her sister. She knew all about Zalindov haunting her nightmares — but she’d also had to live in that nightmare. Alone. For ten years.
“I’m sorry,” Zuleeka whispered. “I shouldn’t have listened to Mother, I know that now. I should have told Tor, and we should have come for you.
We failed you. I failed you.”
Feeling raw, Kiva took a moment to gather her thoughts. She’d lost ten years of her life needlessly, so she wasn’t capable of just forgiving Zuleeka like that had never happened. But her sister had made a good point about how she’d also been young. If their positions had been reversed and Tilda had told Kiva that everyone was safer if Zuleeka remained locked away, wouldn’t she have trusted that their mother knew what she was talking about?
Sighing deeply, Kiva said, “Let’s just — Let’s try to forget about it. As you said yesterday, what’s done is done.”
Zuleeka looked startled. So did Torell.
“You’d be . . . all right with that?” Zuleeka asked slowly.
“I’m not all right with any of this.” Kiva’s voice rose in the dark alleyway, before she lowered it again to add, “I’m also not all right with how you tried to kill Jaren two nights ago, and how you’re the reason Naari lost her hand. But I can’t change any of those things either, can I? So for my sanity’s sake, we need to —”
“Hold on, back up,” Torell interrupted, his brow furrowed. To Zuleeka he asked, “I know about Naari, but what’s this about Jaren?”
Zuleeka didn’t answer, instead looking at Kiva and saying, “If I’d wanted to kill the prince, he’d be dead. That wasn’t my intention. I’d just hoped to rattle him a little. Remind him we’re not going anywhere.”
Kiva marveled at Zuleeka’s overconfidence, but only said, “He knows you’re not going anywhere. But he also doesn’t see you as a real threat in the grand scheme of things. And with good reason, given what I learned today.”
Both of her siblings turned alert, and Kiva scrambled to think of how to downplay her statement, before realizing she didn’t have to. The information Jaren had shared couldn’t hurt him or his family. Not when one piece of their guaranteed demise was hundreds of miles away and protected not only by magic, but also an entire army.
“What did you learn, Kiva?” Torell asked, morphing from her loving brother into the commanding general of the rebels.
Warring with herself, Kiva debated what to say. On one hand, she was still dismayed that her family would have no swift means to lawfully take the kingdom. But on the other hand . . .
That young man is destined for greatness. He’s going to be the best king we’ve ever seen.
Healer Tura’s voice came to Kiva again, the words ringing true. Having witnessed Jaren amongst his people today and seeing how much he cared for them not just in speech, but in actions, Kiva had known.
The kingdom was better off in his hands.
She felt like a traitor to her own family, but try as she might, she couldn’t imagine Evalon with Zuleeka as its queen, not even with Tor as its king. And she certainly didn’t want to rule it herself, having no idea how to juggle politics and diplomacy. She’d been bored to tears just listening to the Royal Council discuss mundane kingdom matters — the idea of having to take part in such conversations made something inside her shrivel up and die.
Jaren, however, had spent a lifetime being groomed for the role, loving
every second of it.
He truly was the people’s prince.
And so, while Kiva knew she should be more upset, there was no denying the relief she felt knowing that, at least for now, the Vallentis family was safe, their throne secure.
“Kiva?” Tor called when she remained silent for too long. “Did you discover something?”
Licking her lips, she said, “Yes. I did. And you’re not going to like it.”
An unpleasant feeling twisted inside her as she told her siblings about her visit to the library and her viewing of the Book of the Law, sharing everything she’d learned about the Royal Ternary clause — Jaren’s greatest secret, something only he, his mother, and the council knew. And now his blood-sworn enemies, too. Kiva hated betraying his trust, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that no harm would come to him; it was an unactionable secret, one he would never even know she’d shared.
When she finally finished speaking, the only sounds in the alley were a light dripping noise and the distant hiss of a tomcat.
And then Tor cursed loudly, slamming his fist into the wall of the nearest building. “Gods dammit!” he cried, punching it again.
Alarmed, Kiva grabbed his arm, wincing at the blood covering his knuckles. She reached for her magic, longing to take away his pain. But then
—
Nothing.
Delora’s potion — Kiva had forgotten.
She couldn’t access her magic while under its effects, not even by choice.
“Calm down, brother,” Zuleeka said, placing her hand on his shoulder.
“There was never any guarantee Kiva would learn something to help us — this doesn’t change our plans.”
“Exactly!” Tor yelled, throwing out his arms. “It doesn’t change anything! We have to keep doing what we’ve been doing!”
Zuleeka’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
I’m tired of seeing good people suffer for a cause I’m not even sure I believe in.
Torell’s words returned to Kiva, words she instinctively knew Zuleeka wouldn’t understand. Jumping in to save him, she quickly said, “It’s my fault — you asked me to find a lawful way to take the throne, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“You did what you could, little sister,” Zuleeka said. She was much calmer than Kiva had anticipated, but then again, she had a lot of making up to do from the previous day — the previous ten years.
“You’re sure, though?” Zuleeka continued. “That it’s impossible to steal the Ternary? The Eye sounds like the trickiest part — is it really so well protected?”
“Jaren said it goes wherever the current general goes,” Kiva said. “So it’s with Ashlyn and the armies — and shielded by her magic, too.”
Zuleeka sighed. “Well, it’s a blow, but we won’t give up. We knew claiming the throne would take time, we just need to be patient.”
Kiva snuck a quick look at Torell, finding him staring furiously out into the darkness.
This life isn’t one I ever would have chosen for myself.
A lump formed in Kiva’s throat at the remembered words, and she pressed into his side, offering comfort in a way that, hopefully, Zuleeka wouldn’t question.
Tor exhaled loudly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. But then he stilled, his gaze focusing on her neck.
“What’s this?” he asked, lifting the golden chain.
“A gift from Jaren,” Kiva answered, pulling the amulet out from beneath her clothes. “I had a run-in with his mother last night, and he gave me this
afterward to protect me from any future magical attacks.”
Both Torell and Zuleeka froze at her words.
“The queen attacked you?” Tor exclaimed.
“Are you all right?” Zuleeka asked, her concern warming Kiva so much more than her earlier apology.
Kiva didn’t share how close she’d come to drowning in the queen’s sitting room — she’d already given them plenty to worry about tonight. “I’m fine,” she said. “Jaren used his magic to save me.”
“Fire magic against the queen’s water magic?” Zuleeka asked, arching an eyebrow. “How did that work?”
Kiva quickly covered, “He has wind magic too, remember? He used it to throw Ariana across the room.” That wasn’t a lie. They just didn’t need to know he must have also used his water affinity to counteract Ariana’s power.
“He did what?” Torell asked, gaping.
“And then he used it again to slam the doors shut behind us, locking her in her rooms,” Kiva shared.
“Whoa,” Torell said, with clear admiration.
“It was pretty impressive,” Kiva admitted. “The things they can all do with their magic . . .” She shook her head in amazement.
“No one should have that much power,” Zuleeka said, a dark edge to her voice. But then it lightened as she added, “At least they’re all limited in some way. Imagine if we had another Sarana Vallentis among us, with all four elements? Now, that would be a concern.”
It took every scrap of acting skill within Kiva not to react. She should tell them. They were her family. But — I trust you, Kiva. You have to know that by now.
Kiva had betrayed Jaren in so many ways — she couldn’t betray him in this.
“So this amulet,” Tor said, squinting at it in the dark. “It protects you from elemental magic?”
When Kiva nodded, her siblings leaned in for a closer look, with Zuleeka touching each of the colored gems as Kiva explained how it worked.
“You’re lucky the prince cares so much for you,” Zuleeka mused. “This is some gift.”
“Hopefully I’ll never need it again,” Kiva said.
Tor cocked his head. “I thought you said Jaren gave it to you after the attack?”
“He did,” Kiva confirmed. “But he also gave it to me in Zalindov — well, technically it was Mirryn who gave it to me — and it saved me from the fire Ordeal. Without it, I would have been turned to ash.”
Her brother’s face paled, but Zuleeka just continued staring pensively at the amulet until Kiva tucked it back beneath her sweater. Only then did Zuleeka shake off her thoughts and say, “We shouldn’t linger here for much longer. But with everything else that happened yesterday, we didn’t get to ask — how did you go with Nanna Delora? Your note implied she helped you?”
“You’re right about her — she doesn’t like us very much,” Kiva said.
“I’m pretty sure she thought I was there to steal Torvin’s dagger — at least until I convinced her otherwise.” She turned to her brother and added, “She’s using it as her apothecary’s blade, just like you guessed.”
Tor snorted. “Figures.”
“She showed it to you?” Zuleeka asked, stunned. “I thought it was hidden.”
“It is hidden,” Kiva confirmed. “She keeps it in a hollowed black book called 1,001 Pies and Pastries. And she didn’t show it to me in the sense of gloating about it — she used it to make a potion, something to suppress my magic.”
“So she was able to help?” Torell said, relief filling his features.
Zuleeka’s, too. “That’s great, Mouse.”
“It’s not permanent,” Kiva warned. “She only gave me enough to last until tomorrow. I have to go back to get some more.”
“You’re seeing Delora again tomorrow?” Zuleeka asked.
Since Kiva had just said that, she only nodded in confirmation.
“I know this is a big ask,” Zuleeka said, “but I’ve been thinking about this since we last talked about it and, well . . .” She took a breath. “Do you think you can try to bring the dagger back with you?”
A short, incredulous laugh left Kiva. “Uh, no. If I show even a hint of interest in that blade, Delora will toss me from her cottage.”
Probably into the swamp.
With Mr. Chomps.
Kiva shuddered.
“It’s just . . .” Zuleeka brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I told you that the rebels recognize it as a symbol of Torvin’s reign, and we all know how powerful symbols are. With Mother now gone” — her words caught slightly — “having it in our possession will help boost their
confidence in us as their new leaders. The Corentine Dagger returned to its rightful heirs.”
Kiva saw the validity of what Zuleeka was saying, but she still argued, “If Delora refused to give it to Mother, why would she give it to me?”
“She’s a cranky old bat who’s holding on to that blade out of spite because she hates our bloodline, and yet, for some reason she’s helping you,”
Zuleeka said. “That must mean she likes you, at least a little.” She then begged, “It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?”
Kiva thought of Mr. Chomps again and winced. But then she relented, “I can’t promise anything, but if Delora’s in a good mood, I’ll see what I can
do.”
Zuleeka smiled. “Thank you.”
Looking at the brightness radiating from her, Kiva found herself wishing Zuleeka would act like this more often. This was the sister she remembered from her childhood, the girl who had feelings and cared about things, not the hardened commander of the rebels. Perhaps there really was hope for them yet.
“We need to go,” Torell said, peering in the direction of the water. “The dockworkers change shifts soon, and someone might see us if we wait around too long.”
Zuleeka glanced at Kiva. “Do you feel safe getting back to the palace on your own?”
Despite having grumbled earlier about the likelihood of being murdered, Kiva answered, “I’ll be fine.”
Zuleeka nodded, then informed her, “We’ll set up a meeting with the other rebel leaders to talk about our next steps. It might take some time — the camps are scattered all across the kingdom, and this is the kind of conversation we’ll need to have in person.”
“You have more than one camp?” Kiva asked, surprised.
Zuleeka looked amused. “We’ve been growing our numbers for years — you didn’t think we’d all fit outside of Oakhollow, did you?”
Kiva felt a sliver of unease, but she was comforted by knowing there was no plan in motion, no action the rebels could carry out — not yet.
“We’ll be in touch again soon,” Tor told Kiva. His features were again stoic, as if he’d returned to his decade of resigned acceptance.
“I’ll let you know if I learn anything else in the meantime,” Kiva said, though she wasn’t sure she was telling the truth. The lines had blurred, good
and bad no longer seeming so black and white.
“For now, just focus on keeping your cover and suppressing your magic,”
Zuleeka said, before quickly adding, “And please do try convincing Delora to hand over the dagger. The value of it . . .” She trailed off, her longing
expression saying more than words.
“I will,” Kiva promised.
After quick goodbyes, Zuleeka and Torell took off deeper into the narrow alleyway, disappearing into the blackness, while Kiva turned and headed out the same way she’d arrived. Walking swiftly, she’d barely made it one building along when a cloaked figure stepped out from the shadows, the large male form causing her pulse to skyrocket.
Without thinking, she reached down and yanked Naari’s dagger from its holster.
But then the figure lowered his hood, revealing the familiar face of Caldon.
“Gods, you scared me.” Kiva forced a laugh and lowered her blade. “I thought I was in real trouble.”
“You are in real trouble,” Caldon said, his voice as hard as his face.
“I . . . am?” Kiva asked. Outwardly, she made herself remain composed, but on the inside, adrenaline was tearing through her as panic set in. While she was confident he couldn’t have heard anything she and her siblings had said down in the alley — it was too narrow for them not to have noticed him slipping in to eavesdrop — he could have easily seen the three of them meeting. And he obviously knew Kiva had snuck out of the palace. Caldon wasn’t an idiot — he’d clearly followed her for a reason.
“Let’s cut the bull and get straight to it, Sunshine,” Caldon said, prowling toward her. “What did your brother and sister want?”
“Zuleeka wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday,” Kiva answered quickly, truthfully. A partial truth, at least.
Caldon came to a stop right in front of her. “Let me rephrase.” He leaned in, his eyes like cobalt fire as he asked in a lethal voice, “What did your brother and sister — the Viper and the Jackal — want?”
