CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kiva was going to kill her sister.
That was her first thought when she began to rouse.
Her second thought was that she was going to be sick, the lingering scent of whatever had knocked her out remaining like a bad aftertaste. No matter how much fresh air she gulped in, it refused to fade entirely.
But when she opened her eyes, coughing and gagging and struggling against the ropes tying her hands behind her back, one look at where she was had her trying hard to ignore her rebelling stomach.
She’d smelled it in the air, the sea salt and brine, the distinctly fishy smell, combined with musty old wood and faint traces of wine and spice, but it was only as she glanced around the building she’d been dragged into that she realized she was inside a warehouse at the docks.
The space around her was piled high with leaking barrels and bulging sacks. Ceramic jars lined the shelves, wooden crates were stacked precariously on top of each other, and only the smallest of slitted windows at the top of the lofty walls let in any hint of sunlight. The floor was largely empty, the stored items arranged in neat piles closer to the walls, but the room was bursting with enough goods to hide Kiva’s line of sight to the door, indicating that she’d been carried deep into the warehouse. Even so, escape wasn’t on her mind. Not when she assumed this was her sister’s sick attempt at getting her attention again, the staged abduction too similar to her first to
be a coincidence.
Only, this time Kiva wasn’t alone.
Lying on the ground beside her were both Tipp and Rhessinda, their hands also bound behind their backs. The young boy was bleeding from a head wound — causing Kiva’s pulse to skittle with alarm — and the healer was bloodied and bruised, though she was slowly returning to consciousness, pulling herself up into a seated position and looking around with a grim expression.
“I can explain,” Kiva blurted when Rhess’s eyes came to her.
“Are you hurt?” the healer asked.
“I’m fine,” Kiva answered. “But I need to tell you —”
Before she could apologize for their predicament, two of the largest men she’d ever seen walked out from behind a row of stacked boxes, one covered in tattoos, the other pale as milk.
“Which one of you is Kiva?” the tattooed man asked.
His strong accent made Kiva still, her mind clearing as the pungent drugs left her system, enough for her to remember that, according to Caldon, her sister hadn’t been the only one to try and abduct her nearly a fortnight ago.
“I am,” Rhessinda answered.
Kiva gaped at her and quickly said, “No, I am.”
Rhessinda shot her a look and hissed under her breath. “Shut up, and let me handle this.”
The words startled Kiva into silence. Looking at Rhess, there was no trace of the fun, friendly healer whom Kiva had come to know and adore. In her place was someone new, someone different, her face hard and her eyes staring at the two men as if her gaze alone could incinerate them.
“You put up quite the fight, dollface,” the pale man said to Rhessinda, his voice also thickly accented. He pointed to a long scrape down his forearm, then a deep scratch across his cheek.
“Loosen these ropes, and we can go for round two,” Rhess said sweetly.
There was no fear in her voice, as if she was eager to fight him.
Something wasn’t right here. Something Kiva didn’t understand.
Something she — The pale man slashed his equally pale eyes to Kiva, cutting off her train of thought. “You’re here for two reasons, girlie, one of which is to remind your sister that our king is growing impatient. The Rebel Queen might be dead, but Navok still expects her side of the bargain to be fulfilled. Zuleeka Corentine has a debt to pay on her mother’s behalf. On your mother’s behalf.
Make sure she knows that debt is overdue.”
Kiva felt the blood drain from her face, her sister’s words from Oakhollow returning with a vengeance: King Navok was more than happy to make a deal with the Rebel Queen.
Everworld help them, what had their mother done?
But Kiva didn’t have time to dwell on it, not when she now had confirmation that Zuleeka wasn’t behind this kidnapping. And perhaps worse, the burly man had just revealed exactly who Kiva was — and who her family
was — to Rhessinda.
Dread flooded her, but when she turned to the healer with a denial on her lips, Rhessinda didn’t seem the slightest bit alarmed.
Or surprised.
“Gods,” Kiva rasped out as realization hit her, “are you —”
“The second reason you’re here should be obvious,” the tattooed man interrupted loudly, kicking her boot. It didn’t hurt, but it did make her scramble backwards until she hit a wooden crate. “You’re the bait.”
“Last time some of our people tried to take you, they weren’t prepared, but today things are different,” the pale man said with a dark grin. “Even so, it could be a while before your handsome prince discovers you’re missing, so if you want to keep that face pretty for him, you’ll hold your tongue. Once he and his guards arrive, we’ll have our own party. It won’t be a masquerade, but it’ll be just as unforgettable.”
You’re just very tasty bait for a much larger fish.
Caldon had been right all along, Kiva realized. King Navok had sent his people to capture her after the River Festival, for this very same purpose — to lure the crown prince. They knew how much she meant to Jaren; they knew he’d come for her.
Caramor and Mirraven are frothing at the bit to launch an invasion, waiting for the slightest hint of weakness.
Kiva was Jaren’s weakness.
The pale man’s grin widened as he saw understanding flood her face.
“Mirraven has big plans for Evalon,” he declared. “Today we’ll be offering a taste of what’s to come.”
Kiva shut her eyes as if it would help block out the words.
She should have kept them open.
Because if she had, she would have seen the hand reaching for her face, the approach of the pungent cloth that slammed over her mouth again, right before the tattooed man said, “This’ll help pass the time. Sweet dreams, girlie.”
“Wake up, Kiva!”
A hand was tapping Kiva’s face, and she groaned, wanting to shove it away, but her arms were still bound behind her.
“Good. Now open your eyes.”
Kiva groaned again, recognizing Rhessinda’s insistent voice pulling her
from her unnatural sleep. A renewed surge of queasiness had her fighting the urge to vomit all over again.
Coughing and gagging once more, Kiva opened her eyes to find she was still in the warehouse, but the sunlight filtering through the windows was much weaker than before, the shadows across the ground longer, indicating it was now late afternoon. Combined with her time spent at Silverthorn, Kiva had been gone for hours, but with the plans for the masquerade in full swing, it was entirely possible that no one yet knew she was missing. That Jaren didn’t yet know she was missing.
Casting her gaze to one side, she saw that Tipp was still unconscious, but in a different position, as if he’d woken and fallen back under again. On her other side, Rhessinda was kneeling next to her, the healer’s wrists bloodied after having torn her way out of her bindings. She immediately shifted to start working Kiva free of her own ropes.
“Who are you?” Kiva mumbled, her numb fingers tingling painfully as Rhess plucked at her wrists. Despite being knocked out again, she hadn’t forgotten what had happened with the burly men, nor Rhess’s reaction — or lack thereof — when learning about her family.
“You know who I am. I’m Rhessinda Lorin.”
“I didn’t ask your name,” Kiva said. “Who are you?”
This time, Rhess didn’t try to avoid the question. “I’m Torell’s second.”
Kiva’s mind blanked. “You’re what?”
“His second,” Rhess repeated. “As in, second in command. Of the rebel forces.”
“I know what second means,” Kiva hissed, struggling to process this news. “But — But you’re a healer! A Silverthorn healer!”
Rhess shook her head. “That was just my cover. Tor wanted you to have someone nearby in case something happened, and since we knew you’d be tempted by the healing academy, it made sense to send me in undercover. My parents were healers, like I told you, and I sometimes help the rebel medics, so I had the best chance of maintaining the guise.” She paused. “After Zuleeka’s abduction, it was simple enough for me to steal some robes and intercept the message from the palace. Dressed like that, I only had to show the royal summons to the guards and they let me right through the gates. It was all too easy to get to you, cementing a position in your life almost as soon as we learned that you’d arrived in the city.”
Kiva thought back over every interaction she’d had with Rhessinda,
wondering why she’d never suspected anything to be amiss. Even yesterday, when no one at Silverthorn had heard of her. Hell, even last week, the Matron Healer herself hadn’t recognized Rhess’s name. And — I’m here every day for the morning shift.
Whenever Kiva had found Rhess, she’d been waiting for her. Just sitting on that same bench in the sanctuary, a coincidence Kiva had never bothered to consider, always too happy to have found her friend to question why she wasn’t working. Never mind how she’d conveniently offered up herself as a tour guide to Oakhollow, and — gods — she’d even seen the magic burst out
of Kiva and had said nothing.
Because she’d already known.
“Was any of it real?” Kiva asked hoarsely.
The healer — not a healer, Kiva reminded herself — paused her tugging, shifting to meet Kiva’s eyes.
“Everything between us was real,” she said solemnly. “Please don’t doubt that.”
“You’ve lied to me about who you are, from day one,” Kiva said, anger rising in her.
The look Rhess sent her spoke volumes. “You can hardly talk.” Kiva’s anger dampened, but she held on to as much as she could, saying, “That’s different. You knew who I was all along.”
“But you still lied to me that whole time,” Rhess argued, her attention returning to Kiva’s ropes. “So why don’t we call it even, and instead of fighting each other, focus on getting out of here?”
Any lingering anger fled from Kiva. Rhess was right — they’d both lied to each other, and they were both in this mess together. They could work out their differences later, once they were safe.
“Those were King Navok’s men, weren’t they?” Kiva asked, already knowing the answer, but showing Rhess she was willing to let everything else go, at least for the moment. “They’re after Jaren?”
“So it seems,” Rhess answered. “They said a few things after knocking you out again — they spoke in Mirravish, thinking I wouldn’t understand, but the village I grew up in was close enough to the border that I was raised bilingual.” As an aside, she said, “That’s where I met your brother, by the way. He saved me from those mercenaries who attacked my village five years ago. He’s been my best friend ever since.”
Kiva remembered what Rhess had shared about her tragic past, and how
she’d been adopted by a new family.
She’d been talking about the rebels all along.
Frustrated anew at missing all the signs, Kiva forced herself to stay on topic. “What did the men say?”
“They want to make a swap,” Rhess answered. “Prince Deverick — Jaren — for us. They think he’ll go for it, especially with you here.”
“We need to escape before he does something stupid,” Kiva said, stating the obvious.
“I’m working on it,” Rhess said, continuing to pluck at the ropes.
Thinking about everything else the men had said, Kiva asked, “Do you know what bargain they were talking about? The debt they said is overdue?”
“That was particularly worrying, I’ll admit,” Rhess said. “I have no idea what they meant by it, but I don’t have a good feeling.”
“Are you sure you don’t know anything?” Kiva pressed, shifting her hands. The bonds were loosening, but she was nowhere near free yet.
“You’re a rebel. And Tor’s second, or best friend, or — whatever.”
“He tells me everything,” Rhess said, doing something to the ropes that had Kiva wincing. “If he knew about some deal your mother made, I’d know.”
“I’m pretty sure Zuleeka knows,” Kiva said, recalling her sister’s veiled words again, and the way the Mirraven men had said her name so boldly.
Rhessinda’s voice changed to one of displeasure. “How shocking.”
Kiva couldn’t keep from asking, “You and my sister . . . ?”
“My allegiance is to Tor,” Rhess declared firmly. “I don’t give a damn about the rebel cause, but I’d give my life for him. I owe him that much after everything he’s done for me. So where he goes, I go. And if that means I have to put up with your scheming snake of a sister, then so be it.” Pulling away from Kiva’s ropes again, she quickly said, “Maybe don’t mention that last part to her.”
Kiva hid a smile. “My sister and I aren’t on the greatest of terms, either.”
She thought about what Delora had said, how Zuleeka had kept the truth of their mother’s dark magic hidden, and their tainted family history. But then she remembered how Zuleeka had apologized for her behavior, how she was trying to mend their relationship, as she’d promised she would. Quietly, Kiva added, “But we’re working on it.”
“Good luck with that,” Rhess muttered. “Just don’t forget that vipers have fangs.”
“You really don’t like her, do you?”
Rhess sighed and gave a particularly vicious tug to Kiva’s ropes, after which came the sound of threads snapping. Still, Kiva wasn’t yet free. “I’m sorry, I know she’s your sister. Tor and I made an agreement long ago not to talk about her. He’s very committed to his family, no matter what choices
they make.”
They.
“If you’ve been with them for five years, does that mean you knew my mother?”
Rhess said nothing, before clearing her throat and replying, “I did.”
Those two words were loaded with feeling, very little of which was good.
“I didn’t know her well,” Rhess went on. “Tilda was very . . . fixated. On her goals. By the time I joined the rebels, she wasn’t around much, leaving the camp often with Zuleeka. Tor was miserable. He felt like he’d lost both his sister and his mother, but he channeled that into his training, growing stronger and more skilled, and making the rebels fall in love with him in the process. I think that, without him as their general, they’d crumble under Zuleeka’s leadership. She’s the cunning, he’s the heart.”
Another snap of ropes, and Kiva could wiggle her hands more.
“Nearly done,” Rhess said.
Determining to think about her messed-up family later, Kiva said, “Once I’m free, we’ll have to hurry.” She looked toward Tipp. “Has he regained consciousness?”
“For a few minutes. He knew his name, remembered what happened, asked about you. But then he passed out again.”
Relief swept over Kiva at hearing he’d been lucid enough to talk. “We need to get him away from here and properly looked at. Any ideas for how we avoid our abductors on the way out?”
“We’ll just have to wing it,” Rhess said. “Tor will know something is wrong by now, so he should be looking for us. I was meant to meet him just
after lunch, and that was hours ago.”
“Tor’s in the city?”
“Him and Zuleeka,” Rhess said. “For the party.”
In the turmoil of everything else, Kiva had forgotten that Mirryn had invited her siblings to the masquerade, and she cursed inwardly at her unending nightmare of a day.
“If we can get out of here, we can find him and —” Rhess cut off with a
triumphant sound, and an instant later, the ropes around Kiva’s hands were gone.
“Thanks,” she said, grimacing as she rubbed feeling back into her fingers.
“You carry Tipp,” Rhess instructed. “I’ll need my hands free in case we have to fight our way —”
She stopped abruptly at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, her wide eyes telling Kiva to return her arms around her back and act as if she were still bound.
“Oh, look, lover girl is awake,” the tattooed man said after reappearing from behind the same stack of crates with his pale companion. “No word from your prince, yet. We’re having trouble getting our messages through with how busy the palace is. You better get comfortable, girlie, because —”
Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted when Rhess launched herself at him, barreling the full weight of her body directly into his gut. He doubled over and snatched for her, but she pulled back quickly, his sword in her hands and slicing through the air.
She was fast, but his pale companion intercepted her blade with his own, returning with a thrust that barely missed slashing open her throat.
Despite having next to no training, Kiva couldn’t let Rhess take on the two massive men alone, so she scrambled to her feet. She’d barely made it three steps before Torell came flying out from behind the crates, his Jackal mask on and a sword in each hand, shouting, “Stay there!” to Kiva as he dived straight into the melee.
The clash of blades rang in Kiva’s ears as Rhess and Tor faced off against the Mirravens, the sound drawing more men and women, all of them wearing the same gray fighting leathers as their abductors.
Kiva lunged for Tipp, dragging him as far away as she could, stopping only when they reached a cluster of wooden barrels pushed into the corner of the warehouse, where she hovered protectively over him, watching the battle unfold.
Tor and Rhess were outnumbered — by a lot.
And yet they were holding their own, fighting back to back, their swords blurring in the air, bodies falling in their wake.
They’d done this before.
It was clear in the synchronized power of their attacks, in the way they covered each other’s vulnerable sides and yelled instructions to each other — “Duck!” “To your left!” “On your right!” “Jump!”
Kiva watched in awe as their enemies continued to fall. Her confidence grew with every slain body, but she still remained on edge, fearing the two rebels, no matter how good, couldn’t keep up their defense against such an unrelenting force.
But then the Mirravens started to thin, with more of them on the ground than were standing, many groaning, many more still. Rhess and Tor were moving slower now, numerous cuts and slashes over them both, but still, they fought on.
Until, suddenly, there was no one left to fight.
Their chests heaving, Tor and Rhess stood in place for one long moment, staring at the mess around them. Rhess shook herself out of it first, moving toward where Kiva and Tipp remained in the corner. Kiva thought she might have heard the slightest of moans from the young boy then, as if he were waking, but just as she turned to him, something caught her eye.
The tattooed man had faked his defeat.
He rose silently behind Tor, unnoticed by her brother or Rhess, both of
them looking in Kiva’s direction.
“TOR!” she screamed. “BEHIND YOU!”
Tor whirled too late to mount a defense, the Mirraven already upon him.
But then Zuleeka was there in her Viper mask, appearing from behind the crates and slamming into the burly man just as he thrust his blade toward Torell. The three of them were locked together, their bodies so close that it looked as if they were embracing. A loud gasp of pain met Kiva’s ears and the tattooed man sank to his knees, before he collapsed entirely, with Tor and
Zuleeka standing above him.
For a moment, no one moved.
And then Tor was falling.
“Torell!” Rhess cried, reaching him just in time to stop him from slamming onto the hard ground.
Zuleeka was staring at their brother in horror.
As was Kiva.
Because the Mirraven’s blade was lodged in Tor’s chest.
For one terrible second, Kiva couldn’t move, couldn’t think, but then Rhess looked to her and screamed, “HELP HIM!”
And Kiva remembered.
She could help him — she could heal him.
Just like she’d healed Tipp.
Sprinting over to them, Kiva battled back a wave of fear and forced herself to remain calm.
“K-Kiva,” Tor said, his emerald eyes clouded with pain beneath his mask.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” she said, using her most soothing healer’s voice. “But this —” She reached shakily for the hilt of the sword.
“This is going to hurt a little. Just a bit of a pinch.”
With no further warning, she ripped the blade from his chest.
Tor’s body buckled, his mouth opening in a soundless, agonized scream, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Tor? Tor!” Rhess yelled. “Wake up! Kiva, wake him up!”
“He’s better off unconscious,” Kiva said, her hands covering the blood spurting from his wound. “Dammit, I think the blade nicked an artery.”
“You have to help him,” Rhess begged, her voice catching. “Kiva — please.”
In the back of her mind, Kiva marveled that the other girl had slain numerous bodies and was coated in bits of each of them, and yet it was the blood pouring from Torell that was her undoing. He was her best friend, she’d said. Kiva couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he was more than that.
“Hold it together, Rhess,” she said quietly. “And give me some space.”
Throughout all of this, Zuleeka continued to look down at them in muted dread, but Kiva didn’t have time to coddle her sister. Instead, she closed her eyes and reached for her magic. Her grandmother was right — she should have spent time learning how to use it, rather than stuffing it away and relying on it in desperate times only. But hindsight wouldn’t help her right now, not when her brother’s lifeblood was gushing through her fingertips.
“Please,” Kiva whispered, having no idea what she was doing but urging her magic to come forth. “Please.”
And then she felt it. The tingling in her fingers, the burning in her hands, the rush of power leaving her as long-buried intuition kicked in, directing the magic to heal the fatal wound. She opened her eyes to see the familiar golden light flooding into Torell, his blood flowing less and less until it stopped completely, his skin sealing shut. His face was pale, his lips nearly blue, the amount of blood he’d lost concerning but not catastrophic. He would recover, Kiva knew, as her magic began to withdraw, the golden light fading. He would live.
A sob left her, and she wasn’t alone in her relief, with Rhess clutching
desperately at Torell.
“Is he —”
“He’s fine,” Kiva said weakly, raising a hand to her suddenly dizzy head.
“He just needs to sleep it off.”
As did Kiva. She’d felt equally exhausted after healing Tipp, but she’d been in the middle of a prison riot at the time and hadn’t had the luxury of taking a nap.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t in the position to do so now, either, so she pushed past her lightheadedness and raised her eyes to her sister, wanting to reassure Zuleeka that Tor would be all right.
But Zuleeka wasn’t looking at Kiva. Her eyes were focused on the corner of the warehouse.
With a sick feeling, Kiva turned slowly to follow her sister’s gaze,
already knowing what she would find.
Tipp was awake.
And judging by the look on his face, he’d seen everything.
