CHAPTER THREE
“. . . didn’t leave me with any choice.”
“Are you mad? You see the bruise on her face? The general’s gonna bury you.”
There was a sound of shifting feet, followed by a mumbled, “The commander said to do whatever it took to get her here alone.”
A strained laugh. “Good luck using that as an excuse.”
Slowly, Kiva opened her eyes, biting back a groan at the steady pounding in her temple. She tried to move, only to find that she was tied to a wooden chair in the middle of a grimy room, ropes chafing against her wrists and ankles, a gag over her mouth. A single door in the corner opened to a brightly lit hallway, revealing shadows cast by two guards standing just out of sight — the owners of the foggy voices that had awoken her.
Carefully testing her bonds, Kiva only succeeded in digging the ropes deeper into her flesh, earning herself a few splinters from the chair in the process. She wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon. Not without help.
Kiva had been in Vallenia barely two days. It was nowhere near enough time to have made enemies, let alone ones powerful enough for orders to come directly from a “commander.” But . . . if someone had seen her walking with Jaren . . . He was heir to the richest kingdom in Wenderall, his enemies innumerable and hailing from every territory across the continent. Should a rival court wish to harm him, a sure way to do so would be to target those close to him.
Kiva swallowed, before reminding herself that Jaren and Naari would find her. They would get Tipp to the palace, then tear the city apart to make sure she was safe. She just had to buy them time. Buy herself time.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway, prompting Kiva to freeze, her gaze darting to the open door.
“You got her?” came a hard female voice.
One of the male guards offered a response too low for Kiva to hear, continuing for much longer than a simple yes or no.
“You’re right, he won’t be pleased,” the woman muttered, before sighing loudly. “He’s on his way. I’ll deal with him when he arrives.”
A thousand questions flooded Kiva’s mind, but every single one fled at the sight of the young woman who strode confidently through the open doorway.
“Uurreega,” Kiva gasped, the gag over her mouth making the word, the
name, indistinguishable.
But there was no denying who it was.
No denying that Zuleeka Meridan — Zuleeka Corentine — had just stepped into the room.
With dark hair braided over her shoulder, eyes the color of liquid gold mixed with honey — their father’s eyes — and moon-pale skin, she looked so similar to when Kiva had last seen her ten years ago. But Zuleeka was no longer an innocent, wide-eyed eleven-year-old child. There was a harshness about her now, her angular features set, her hands resting on weapons belted to her leather-clad waist. Her stance was both casual and threatening, the latter becoming more evident when a slow, dangerous smile stretched across her hawkish face. “Hello, sister.”
Kiva could only stare, having no idea how to respond even if she’d been capable of doing so around the gag.
Stepping closer, Zuleeka tugged the cloth away from her mouth. “I hear you gave Borin some trouble.” She made a tsking noise. “He was only doing his job. We’ve had eyes on you since you arrived two days ago, but you’ve made it tricky for him to grab you.”
Kiva’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “He could have asked nicely.”
A bark of laughter came from Zuleeka, but Kiva found nothing about this to be funny.
She waited a beat, but when her sister made no further move, Kiva asked, “Are you going to untie me?”
“In a minute,” Zuleeka said, drumming her fingers against her thigh.
“First I want to ask you some questions.” A calculated pause. “I hear you’ve
made some powerful friends.”
Kiva’s blood turned to ice.
Ten years.
Ten years she’d been locked away in a godsforsaken death prison. Their parents had died there, and Kiva herself had gone through hell to survive long enough to escape. But instead of showing any indication that she was pleased
to see her, Zuleeka wanted to interrogate her?
Kiva drew in a deep breath and made herself consider how she might have acted in her sister’s place, realizing that perhaps she would be just as careful to test her allegiances. But even so, she couldn’t help feeling a sting of disappointment.
“We have spies everywhere, you know,” Zuleeka said conversationally when Kiva remained silent. “They’ve been watching since you left Zalindov, following your progress all the way here. Your note arrived weeks before you did — I’m on my way to Vallenia. It’s time to reclaim our kingdom. You penned that yourself, your hunger for what is rightfully ours literally written in your own blood.”
She was wrong about that — it wasn’t Kiva’s blood that the note had been written in. And that wasn’t all she had written.
Mother is dead.
Zuleeka had yet to mention the first line of Kiva’s letter. Had her spies — her rebel spies — already shared the details of Tilda’s death, or did she simply not care to know?
“It seems you’ve been busy, little sister,” Zuleeka continued, cocking her head to the side. “Surviving the unsurvivable Trial by Ordeal, escaping the inescapable Zalindov prison, and somehow growing close enough to the crown prince that he’d invite you to live with him and his precious family at the River Palace.” She smirked. “Now, that is a bold move. I applaud you for your strategy. And your acting skills.”
With every word that came out of Zuleeka’s mouth, a burning feeling grew inside Kiva. She squashed it down, not allowing herself to consider the reason for it.
“Unless,” Zuleeka said, drawing the word out. “It wasn’t all an act.”
Kiva sat stiffly in her chair, holding her sister’s narrowed gaze.
“I hear he’s very handsome, Prince Deverick.” Zuleeka flicked the edge of Kiva’s sleeve in a silent observation of whose jacket she wore. “But you don’t call him that, do you? People he cares about use his middle name.
Jaren, isn’t it?”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?” Kiva asked tersely.
Zuleeka pressed a hand to her chest in mock innocence. “No accusations here, little sister. I’m merely trying to assess your priorities.”
“My priorities are the same as they’ve always been,” Kiva said in a firm voice. “First and foremost, they’re to my family.” After everything she’d
been through for them, she couldn’t understand how that was even in question.
“It’s time to reclaim our kingdom.” Zuleeka repeated Kiva’s note again.
Her expression turned cunning, even vicious, as she went on, “Forgive me, but I can’t help wondering how you plan on doing that while rolling in the prince’s bedsheets.”
The burning in Kiva’s chest rose to her face, but it wasn’t from embarrassment.
“I don’t know where your information is coming from,” Kiva said in a cold voice, “but you should have a word with your spies about getting their facts right.”
Zuleeka’s dark eyebrows rose. “You deny that —”
“I’m not denying anything,” Kiva said, bubbling with anger, “because I shouldn’t have to. I’m your sister. That alone should be enough for you to trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Zuleeka shot back. “Least of all someone who might as well have been dead for a decade.”
Kiva’s head jerked as if she’d been slapped, her reaction violent enough that Zuleeka’s features softened for the first time since she’d set foot in the room. She opened her mouth, looking like she was about to apologize, but was interrupted by the approach of loud, fast footsteps and a male voice demanding, “Where is she?”
A stuttered response came from the guards, and seconds later, a young man stormed through the door, coming to a dead halt when his eyes landed on Kiva.
Emerald eyes — the exact same shade as hers.
And the exact same shade as their late mother’s.
“Kiva,” her brother Torell breathed, saying her name like a prayer.
Throat tightening, Kiva whispered back, “Hey, Tor.”
He took another step forward, his gaze still locked on hers, but then it narrowed as he noticed the gag, the ropes, and what she could already feel was a nasty bruise blossoming on her left temple.
“What the hell?” Torell growled, spearing their sister with a look that had Kiva’s knees trembling.
“Calm down, brother,” Zuleeka said. “Kiva and I were just getting reacquainted.”
Tor’s face darkened further, his jaw clenching as if to bite back words.
Unsheathing a dagger, he knelt before Kiva and began sawing at her bonds.
Once she was free, he stood and pulled her up to her feet, straight into his arms.
“Kiva,” he breathed again, his grip forcing the air from her lungs. But she didn’t complain, holding him just as fiercely, tears welling in her eyes.
This was the reunion she’d imagined. The reunion she’d longed for.
As her second-eldest sibling, Torell had been nearly ten the last time Kiva had seen him, a skinny little boy with perpetually scraped knees. There was nothing of that child in the young man who now towered over her, his black hair and piercing eyes complemented by a rich bronze tan, broad shoulders, and a hard body indicating years of careful discipline. With dark clothes and enough weapons to make Naari green with envy, everything about Tor screamed that he was a fighter, a warrior. It was enough for Kiva to know that he, like Zuleeka, had changed much in the last ten years.
“Gods, Kiva, you have no idea how much I missed you,” Tor said, using one hand to wipe her tears before tilting her chin and examining the bruise on her temple. His handsome features hardened as he asked in a lethal voice, “Who did this?”
“It’s just a little bump,” Zuleeka said dismissively, before Kiva could answer. “There was some trouble separating her from her friends, and with the festival being so crowded, things got out of hand. But look at her — she’s fine.”
As much as Kiva wanted to see the brutish Borin reprimanded, she sensed it was more important to talk her brother down, so she placed her hand over his on the unhurt side of her face and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve had worse.”
It was the wrong thing to say, his emerald eyes filling with shadows as he realized why — and where — she’d felt such pain.
His throat bobbed, the anger bleeding out of him as he whispered in a rough voice, “I almost had you.”
Seeing his anguish, Kiva uttered a confused, “Sorry?”
“We were so close,” he continued, his gaze unfocused, his mind a thousand miles away. “My best fighters were with me, all of us ready to do whatever it took to get you and Mother out.”
Kiva sucked in a breath, suddenly understanding.
“We were hiding in the mountains, taunting the Warden and his guards,”
Torell went on. “We feigned a rescue, prompting him to double his sentries.
It was a distraction, something to keep them busy so they wouldn’t notice our
true intentions.”
Kiva remembered — she’d been walking through the refectory the night before her second Trial and had overheard a group of prisoners talking about the rebels’ failed rescue attempt. But . . . if Tor was saying it hadn’t failed, that it had just been an act . . .
“Everything was in place,” he said, sounding hollow now. “We were all set to strike, but then —”
“Then I sent an order for them to stand down,” Zuleeka interrupted. She eyed Kiva warily as if making a decision, then nodded to herself and shared, much more openly than before, “As general of the rebel forces, Tor has the same level of authority as I do, but since Mother named me interim commander before she left for Zalindov, it does no one any good to see us challenging each other. I left him little choice but to withdraw, even if he wasn’t happy about it.”
That seemed like an understatement, given the haunted look on Tor’s face.
“Did you say Mother left for Zalindov?” The word tasted strange on Kiva’s tongue, the implication that Tilda had willingly chosen imprisonment.
“Wasn’t she — Wasn’t she captured? In Mirraven?”
Before anyone could reply, three loud knocks sounded on the ceiling above their heads, prompting dust and plaster to rain down on them.
“We’re running out of time,” Zuleeka said, brushing white speckles from her leathery clothes. “Seems your friends have better tracking skills than I anticipated.”
Kiva ignored the sneer in her tone — just as she ignored how it felt to know that Jaren and Naari were on their way. They hadn’t waited ten years to try and rescue her.
“You need to answer me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I need to know —”
“There’s a lot you need to know,” Zuleeka said, and while the words were taunting, her face was serious. “But you’re going to have to wait.”
Tor sighed, giving Kiva’s shoulders a comforting squeeze. “Zulee’s right.
I’ve heard about the company you keep these days — we need to be well and truly gone before they arrive.”
Kiva braced herself for more of the accusations Zuleeka had slung at her, but Torell only grinned and added, “Befriending the crown prince and his Golden Shield? Very clever. I can’t think of a more effective way to gain
privileged information.”
Though his words were full of praise, there was something in his eyes that Kiva couldn’t identify. It wasn’t judgment or suspicion or anything remotely similar to how Zuleeka had looked at her. But something about it tugged at Kiva, almost like she was looking into a mirror. Before she could examine it further, Torell blinked and it was gone.
Another three knocks came from above their heads, followed by one more a moment later.
“Time to go,” Zuleeka said, before pointing a finger at Kiva. “Get back in the chair.”
Kiva looked at the chair and back to her sister. “Pardon?”
Zuleeka collected the ropes Torell had cut, giving a low whistle. One of the men guarding the door entered the room and took them from her, handing over a fresh set before leaving again.
“Back in the chair,” Zuleeka repeated her order. “You were abducted, remember? You have a role to play, so put on your acting boots.”
“I —” Kiva didn’t know what to say. She’d planned to travel to Oakhollow in search of her siblings the next day, but now there was no need.
Zuleeka and Torell were standing before her, the three of them finally reunited. She had so many questions for them, so many things they needed to discuss, which was why she croaked out a confused, “Aren’t I coming with you?”
Zuleeka snorted. “You can hardly spy on your prince from the rebel
camp.”
Kiva stilled.
Dark eyebrows rose as Zuleeka said, “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. We have people inside the palace already, but Deverick — sorry, Jaren — has bigger trust issues than I do. There are things he doesn’t even share with the Royal Council, with his family, or so my sources claim. But you have his ear.
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. You can learn his secrets.” She paused before finishing, “And then we can use them against him.”
Schooling her expression, Kiva said nothing. Jaren did trust her — and because of that, she already knew some of his greatest secrets. But for some reason, she held back on revealing anything. Now wasn’t the time, she told herself, almost convincingly.
“I hate to say it, but I agree with Zulee,” Torell said. “For now, you need
to stay here. It’s safer for you this way, with them believing you were taken against your will.”
His gaze flicked to the bruise on her face, then traveled to the chafed and splintered skin around her wrists, his lips pressing together when he realized she wouldn’t have to lie to convince anyone.
Unlike Zuleeka, Tor didn’t say more about her spying, nor did he imply that she was only as useful as the information she gleaned. Instead, he wrapped her in another quick hug and whispered, “I’ll see you again soon.
Promise.”
Stepping away, he pulled what appeared to be a silver mask from inside his cloak. Kiva didn’t get a good look at it before he turned to Zuleeka and said, “I’ll make sure our exit is clear. You finish up here — gently — then meet me in the alley. Be ready to run.”
Zuleeka gave a short nod, and Torell took off after one final glance at Kiva, silently reassuring her that he would keep his promise.
“Sit,” Zuleeka ordered Kiva, and this time she did as she was told. With hurried motions, Zuleeka bound her with the fresh ropes and pulled the gag up until it covered her mouth once more.
More knocks sounded above them, conveying enough urgency that even Kiva understood her sister would risk discovery by staying any longer.
“Tor doesn’t know this, but I’ve ordered a handful of our people to stay behind, just enough to put up a believable fight,” Zuleeka said. She tilted her head to the side and finished, “I’m sorry about this. He told me to be gentle, but this part needs to be believable, too.”
Kiva’s eyes scrunched with confusion, but then they widened with alarm when her sister unsheathed a dagger and, with no further warning, slammed the pommel into the side of her already injured face. Pain burst anew . . . and then she succumbed to darkness once more.
