CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
By the time Kiva finally made her way back to the palace, her feet felt like lead, her head was pounding, and she desperately needed a nap. But with the clock ticking down to the masquerade, she made herself wash quickly, scrubbing off Torell’s blood — amazed no one had noticed it — and donning her gown.
Mirryn had delivered her a mask, as promised, and while the shimmering delicacy of it was beautiful, it was nothing compared to the masterpiece that was Kiva’s dress.
Fashioned entirely out of a pale gold silk, the bodice cut low across Kiva’s chest and fit tight to her waist, before flowing out like liquid to the floor. What truly made it spectacular was the luminium beaded into it, like little specks of sunlight, leaving the dress — and Kiva wearing it — looking nothing short of radiant.
Coupled with her intricate mask and glittering slippers, when Kiva peered in the mirror before leaving her room, she had to do a double take, barely recognizing herself.
“What am I doing?” she whispered, frozen to the spot. But then a knock on her bedroom door had her jumping and hurrying across her room to answer it.
On the other side was Jaren, dressed in formal black from head to toe, with whirls and eddies of gold embroidery dancing along the collar of his shirt and the seams of his jacket, begging for Kiva to reach out and run her fingers over them. Over him.
From his boots to his black-and-gold mask, he was utterly magnificent, and try as she might, Kiva couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Not that she tried very hard, especially when she saw the look in his eyes as he stared shamelessly right back at her.
Heat pooled in her stomach at the desire on his face, at the sheer hunger that only deepened as his gaze raked slowly over her, like the softest, sweetest of caresses. Her skin felt like it was melting right off her bones,
every part of her suddenly throbbing with want, with need — And then Naari walked into the room.
Kiva leapt backwards, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
She was panting lightly, feeling as if she’d run a lap around the training yard, embarrassed by her reaction but also still experiencing the magnetic pull toward the prince.
“Ready for the party?” Naari asked, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“Where’s Tipp?”
Kiva shook off what she could of her stupor. “He’s, uh —” She fumbled for a response, having been so preoccupied on the walk back to the palace that she hadn’t considered what excuse she might use. It was on the tip of her tongue to say he was sick, but Naari and Jaren would want to check in on him, and they’d also know Kiva would struggle to leave his side if that were the case.
“He went to Silverthorn with you, didn’t he?” Naari pressed, reminding Kiva that there were guards watching the River Road — but apparently their eyes had been elsewhere today, missing the abduction that had occurred on the road up to the academy. “Did you come back together?”
It would take Naari all of two seconds to discover if Kiva lied, with numerous people — including the gate guards — having seen her return alone. Licking her lips, she answered, “It was his first time there, and he wanted to stay longer. Rhessinda — my healer friend — offered to show him around while I came back to get dressed.”
Naari frowned toward Tipp’s open bedroom door, before shrugging and saying, “I’ll keep an eye out and let you know when he returns.”
Kiva’s stomach knotted, but she murmured her thanks. She only had to stall until morning. Then she could talk to Tipp and, hopefully, convince him to keep her secrets.
“You look nice, by the way,” Naari said to Kiva.
Jaren made a strangled sound, the first noise he’d uttered since arriving, but Kiva kept her eyes on Naari and replied, “So do you.”
The guard was wearing her customary black, but she’d traded her leathery armor for a pantsuit, the cuffs and collar threaded with the barest hint of gold, like an added afterthought for meeting Mirryn’s color scheme. To finish, Naari wore a simple but still dainty mask, the golden flecks standing out in stark contrast to her dark skin.
“I don’t like these events,” Naari said, running her hands down her sides.
“I can only conceal so many weapons in this outfit.”
Kiva’s eyes bugged out, since she couldn’t see any weapons on Naari, and she was afraid to wonder where, exactly, she’d managed to conceal them.
Jaren, she knew, was wearing a dagger at his waist, a glint of steel having peeked out from beneath his jacket when she’d first opened her door to him, but aside from that, he appeared unarmed as well.
“But since every Royal Guard we have is on patrol tonight,” Naari continued, “and Mirryn ordered me to take the night off, I suppose I’ll just have to put up with it.” She pulled a displeased face. “Never mind. Shall we go?”
She didn’t wait for them to answer before striding back toward the door.
Kiva made to follow, but Jaren’s hand caught her forearm, halting her.
“Naari’s wrong,” he said, his voice husky, his blue-gold eyes blazing a path of flames everywhere they touched her skin. “You don’t look nice.” He leaned in, causing Kiva’s breath to hitch as he pressed his lips just beneath her ear and whispered there, “You look exquisite. You are exquisite.”
Shakily, Kiva said, “It’s the dress.”
Jaren chuckled, his breath against her skin causing goose bumps to rise.
“Trust me, it’s not the dress.”
“Are you two coming?” called Naari’s voice from the hallway.
Jaren pulled back with a muted oath. “Do you think anyone would care if I murdered my own Golden Shield?”
Kiva bit back a smile. “Hypothetically?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“I can hear you!” Naari called.
Jaren sighed and placed a hand on Kiva’s back, guiding her toward the doorway and muttering under his breath, “Maybe not so hypothetically.”
Upon arriving at the masquerade, Kiva discovered the circular ballroom had been fully transformed. People were everywhere, dressed to perfection in shades of blue and gold, delicate masks hiding some of their features better than others. Multiple luminium chandeliers sparkled from the golden ceiling, a string orchestra played from a balcony high above their heads, and at their ankles swirled a layer of misted cloud — kept in place by elemental magic, no doubt, as were the floating specks of light dotting the air, like starbursts hovering among the dancing couples. On the far side, the glass wall had been opened to a reveal a balcony beyond which the Serin lay, its surface dusted
with enough luminium candles to make it sparkle brighter than the moonlight shining down on the city.
“Oh,” Kiva couldn’t keep from gasping quietly.
“My sister is a lot of things,” Jaren mused, “but she certainly knows how to throw a good party.”
Kiva nodded mutely, too stunned for words. She tried to spot Mirryn in the crowd but only saw the king and queen holding court near a large cluster of guests, young Oriel remaining obediently at their sides, Flox squirming in his arms.
“There are far too many people here,” Naari stated, looking unhappily around the packed room.
“Half of them are guards,” Jaren said. “And the other half are people we know. You’re off duty, Naari. There’s no danger to me here.”
“But I —”
“Mirry ordered you to take the night off,” Jaren reminded her. “If she sees you clucking around me like a mother hen, you know she won’t be pleased. So grab a drink, get some food, and have some fun.” When Naari continued to hesitate, Jaren smirked and added, “Unless you want to three- way dance with Kiva and me all night?”
The look on the guard’s face was comical enough that Kiva normally would have laughed, but instead she looked at Jaren and repeated, “Dance?”
A devious grin stretched across his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”
And then he was tugging her deeper into the room.
“No — Jaren — I can’t —”
But she didn’t finish her protest before he twirled her into his arms, one of his hands landing on her waist, the other gently clasping her hand.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Kiva said quickly.
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve been dancing all my life,” Jaren replied, his eyes sparkling. “You just have to trust me.” His forehead dipped until their gazes locked. “Do you trust me, Kiva?”
The way he said it, Kiva knew he wasn’t just talking about as a dance partner.
And when she held his gaze and whispered a breathy, “Yes,” she knew he realized she was answering with the same level of meaning.
His face lit with such hope, such joy, that for one moment, Kiva could only stare, but then he pulled her closer and whispered back, “Then follow my lead.”
Kiva had no idea what she was doing, but she let Jaren guide her around the dance floor, spinning and twirling to the music. He didn’t care when she stood on his toes, or that it felt like everyone in the room was watching them.
He only cared about her, and the way his eyes never left her — not once — told her as much. It was all too easy for her to fall into the same enchantment, forgetting her troubles and sinking into the moment. Into Jaren.
When the song ended, he smiled, wide and glorious, and led her straight
into the next dance.
And the next.
And the next.
They didn’t stop until they were interrupted.
“All right, cousin, I think it’s time you let someone else show your girl how to really dance.”
As if being pulled from a dream, Kiva’s eyes fluttered when Caldon’s voice drifted to her during a pause in the music.
“Sunshine, may I?” the prince asked, offering his hand.
Jaren held her tighter for a moment, before sighing and loosening his grip. “I’ll go wish my sister a happy birthday,” he said, drawing Kiva’s fingers to his lips and placing a perfunctory kiss on the back of her hand — something that felt anything but perfunctory to Kiva, leaving tingles in its wake.
“Good luck with that,” Caldon said dryly. “Dearest Mirry hasn’t graced us with her presence yet. My guess is she’s waiting to make a grand entrance.” He tilted his head toward Ariana, Stellan, and Ori, his voice lowering. “Your father’s looking a bit peaky, though. You might want to suggest they retire early. Ori’s miserable anyway since they won’t let him leave their sides, and Flox keeps escaping to play in the mist, scaring the life out of the guests when he curls around their feet.”
Kiva coughed to hide her laugh, but she sobered quickly when Jaren’s concerned gaze shot toward his family.
“I’ll go speak with them,” he said, before offering a gentle smile to Kiva and sending a meaningful look to his cousin. “Take care of her.”
“Goshdarnit, there go my plans to toss her in the Serin,” Caldon deadpanned.
Jaren didn’t deign to reply and took off into the crowd.
Caldon snickered, drawing Kiva into his arms as the music started again.
“I like him like this,” he said. “It’s so easy to rile him up these days. You’ve
been a real gift to us all, you know that?”
Kiva deliberately stood on his foot and smiled sweetly as she replied, “I’m so pleased to be of service.”
The prince hummed an amused sound, spinning her away, then back into his arms. “I’ve been looking for your brother and sister.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Mostly your brother. But no sign of them yet.”
Kiva’s stomach tumbled. “Tor’s not coming.”
Caldon’s brows rose above his golden mask. “Oh?”
Weighing her response, Kiva realized that if there was one person she could tell about her abduction — without having to lie about how she’d escaped — it was Caldon. And at least someone at the palace would know Mirraven had attempted to trap Jaren. But that wasn’t the only reason Kiva decided to share.
She quickly — and quietly — summarized her day, before finishing with, “So I could really use your help. With Tipp. Maybe if you come with me tomorrow, you can be there when I explain?”
Caldon had cursed multiple times during her tale, but none so creatively as when she’d shared about Tipp learning who she was.
“I don’t know which part worries me the most,” Caldon murmured, guiding her around another dancing couple. He didn’t answer her question, instead saying, “I’ll have Veris double the city patrols to make sure there are no more Mirravens lying in wait, but you need to push your sister for details about the bargain your mother made with Navok.”
Kiva nodded. “I will. But right now, Tipp takes priority for me. So will you help?”
Caldon led her into another spin. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do,
but yeah, I’ll come with you.”
Kiva wilted with relief. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure he’s safe wherever he is tonight? I don’t like that —”
“I know, I hate it too,” Kiva interrupted, chewing her lip. “But Rhess promised to watch over him.”
Caldon looked skeptical now that he knew the truth about the other girl, but despite Rhessinda’s treachery, Kiva trusted her, especially having witnessed how deeply she cared for Torell.
“I’ll help you cover for his absence tonight,” Caldon offered. “But if things don’t work out the way you want tomorrow, you’re going to have to make some tough decisions, Sunshine.”
Kiva blew out a breath and looked away. “I know.”
Caldon moved their joined hands to tip her chin up, meeting her gaze.
“Speaking of tough decisions, I’m really proud of you for telling Zuleeka you’re done with them. That can’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t.” And yet Kiva recalled how understanding her sister had been, with no hint of anger, no sign of judgment. It was enough for her to wonder if maybe Zuleeka felt a little like Torell, at least deep down.
Or perhaps she simply realized that after a decade in prison, Kiva deserved to make her own choices.
Marveling at the thought, Kiva moved into one final spin as the music came to a close, and then, barely a second after they stopped, Jaren materialized at their sides, eliciting a huff of amusement from his cousin.
“It was touch and go,” Caldon said, his voice grave, “but she survived being parted from you for a whole seven minutes.”
Jaren ignored him and reached for Kiva, linking their hands and leading her off the dance floor.
“Don’t mind me!” Caldon called after them. “I’m fine by myself!”
At first, Kiva thought Jaren might have been taking her to his family, but a quick glance revealed he’d been successful in convincing them to leave.
Mirryn hadn’t yet arrived, so they weren’t heading toward her, nor were they en route to the gilded refreshments table. Instead, Jaren was guiding her around masked men and women, many of whom called greetings, all of whom looked at Kiva in unabashed curiosity, and none of whom Jaren paused for, his attention wholly focused on their destination.
That being, to leave the ballroom.
“Where are we going?” Kiva asked as they stepped through the ornate doors into the hallway and then ascended the nearest red-carpeted staircase.
“Somewhere quiet.”
The two words had Kiva’s heart giving a leap, which turned into multiple leaps when she realized they were approaching the River Room.
The very empty River Room.
Situated directly above the ballroom, the music filtered through the walls, but there were no crowds of people, no prying eyes or lingering looks. The luminium chandelier cast a golden glow over the room, the candle-dotted Serin stretched out beyond the windows, the space nothing short of romantic, especially when, with a wave of Jaren’s hand, mist tickled at their ankles and floating specks of light burst into being, a perfect recreation of the ballroom
— just smaller, more intimate. And for the two of them alone.
“I know it’s selfish,” Jaren said, leading Kiva toward the windows, “but I don’t want to share you with anyone else tonight.” The orchestra launched into another melody. “May I have this dance, Kiva?”
Her throat suddenly dry, she answered by stepping closer. He didn’t lead her into a waltz this time; instead, his arms encircled her waist, guiding her to sway gently in place, his eyes never leaving hers. . . . Eyes that were full of emotion, revealing everything, hiding nothing,
his heart laid bare.
Kiva’s pulse grew erratic.
“Do you remember that night in the garden?” he asked quietly.
Kiva swallowed. They’d only ever been in one garden together — her medical garden back in Zalindov. And they’d only ever been out there once at night, when Tipp had fallen ill. But before they’d found him — “I wanted to kiss you that night,” Jaren murmured.
Kiva’s breath lodged somewhere in her chest.
Jaren leaned down, his lips by her ear as he whispered, “And I think you wanted to kiss me, too.”
A shiver traveled along Kiva’s spine. “A lot has happened since then,” she breathed, her voice different to her ears. Low, husky.
Jaren’s eyes darkened at the sound. “It has,” he agreed, one of his hands moving slowly, languidly, up her side and across her shoulder, before whispering up her neck to cup her face.
Flames ignited beneath Kiva’s skin at his touch, her stomach dipping, molten heat pooling in her core.
Gently, Jaren pulled off her mask, and a moment later, his own was gone.
The full effect of his unconcealed expression — the desire, the longing — made Kiva’s knees weak.
“A lot has happened,” Jaren repeated her words in a whisper, his thumb stroking her cheek. “A lot has changed.” He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. “But the one thing that hasn’t is how I feel about you.”
Kiva’s fingers clutched at his chest, her breathing turning shallow.
Jaren angled his head to the side, his nose brushing hers. A quiet sound left her lips, the noise making his already-dark eyes darken even more, the gold rims like circles of fire in a twilight sky.
The sight was too much for Kiva, and she closed her own eyes, achingly
aware of what he must be able to read in her expression.
His mouth moved back to her ear as he murmured there, “I know you’re scared.” He pressed a whisper-soft kiss against her neck.
Kiva whimpered.
“But I promise you don’t have to be.” Another kiss, this one at the edge of her jaw. “You’re safe with me, Kiva. You’ll always be safe with me.”
Her shallow breaths turned into panting.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Jaren whispered.
It took her a moment, her heart pounding, pounding, pounding, but when she looked at Jaren again, everything in her stilled at what she saw radiating
from his expression.
And then she erupted.
Kiva didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on hers, his hand tangling in her hair, his other arm drawing her chest flush against his.
At the flick of his tongue, she gasped, her mouth opening automatically. He moaned as their kiss deepened, the sound causing her legs to buckle enough that his arm became a steel band around her waist, keeping her upright. She leaned her whole body against him, her hands sliding up his chest to his neck and into his impossibly soft hair, holding his face to hers, never wanting their kiss to end.
But then he shifted slightly, and the dagger at his belt dug into Kiva’s side, the jolt of pain enough that she drew back with a quiet, “Ouch.”
Jaren looked dazed, his hair mussed and eyes glassy, but with clear effort, he asked, “Are you all right?”
Unable to help herself, Kiva touched his face, tracing a finger over his kiss-swollen lips.
Heat flared in his eyes again, that same heat filling every part of her, but before he could lean toward her once more, she reached for his dagger, pulling it from his belt.
“Can we get rid of —” Kiva’s words halted as she stared at the weapon.
“I’m sorry, I forgot all about it,” Jaren said, prying the dagger from her suddenly numb fingers. “It’s ceremonial, something I’m encouraged to wear to formal events. The blade isn’t even sharp.” He ran his finger along the
edge to show her what he meant.
But Kiva wasn’t looking at the blade.
She was looking at the hilt.
And at the clear gemstone embedded into it.
Kiva pointed a shaky finger at the jewel, a horrible feeling growing within her as she asked, “What is that?”
“Remember the Eye of the Gods? The gift they gave Sarana and Torvin?”
Jaren tapped the diamond-like jewel. “It came forged into a dagger — so I guess a more accurate name would be the Dagger of the Gods, but that’s a bit morbid.” He cocked his head to the side. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Kiva shook her head. Then shook it again.
No.
No, no, no.
“This one is just a replica.” Jaren tapped the jewel again. “As I said the
other day, Ashlyn has the real one.”
He was wrong.
So, so wrong.
Because Kiva had seen the real one.
In her grandmother’s cottage.
The one Ashlyn had was a fake. It had to be, or Delora wouldn’t have been so determined to hold on to hers — and to keep it from the rest of their family.
“All the legends are different,” Jaren went on, not noticing how pale Kiva had become, “but while some stories claim Sarana attacked Torvin with her magic, others claim she used this very dagger, nearly killing him with it. Or, well, not this dagger. But the one Ashlyn carries.”
Kiva barely heard him. Instead, she was thinking about how Zuleeka had coveted the weapon for years, believing it symbolic to the rebels but having
no idea of its true value.
Until two nights ago.
When Kiva had stupidly, stupidly shared about the Royal Ternary.
Ice filled Kiva as she realized that one of the two other objects was already in Zuleeka’s hands, her explanation for stealing the Book no longer seeming so trustworthy.
In fact, Kiva was positive Zuleeka had lied.
It wouldn’t have mattered if the Eye really had been hundreds of miles away, the Ternary incomplete without it, but now . . .
I need to grab something before the party, but I’ll meet you at the palace.
Zuleeka’s words from that afternoon all but shouted in Kiva’s ears, a terrible premonition coming over her when she remembered her sister had tried to get the dagger many times, but had never succeeded, claiming Delora
kept it hidden.
It is hidden, Kiva’s own voice echoed in her ears. She keeps it in a hollowed black book called 1,001 Pies and Pastries.
Staring in dismay at Jaren, Kiva choked out, “I have to go.”
Jaren’s eyebrows shot upward. “Go?”
“Bathroom,” she blurted.
“I’ll wait for you here,” Jaren said.
“No, no, you should rejoin the party,” Kiva insisted, trying to keep her panic from showing. “See if Mirryn has arrived yet.”
Jaren leaned in to kiss her cheek, his voice rumbling with meaning as he repeated, “I’ll wait for you here.”
Kiva ignored the desire that rose anew within her, scrambling instead for anything that might excuse how long she would be gone. “I need to track down Tipp and make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, so I may be a while.”
Jaren chuckled, misreading her anxiety and assuming it was about what they’d just done. With the memory of his kisses still on her lips, she wished she could stay and continue what they’d started. But her mind was focused on a cottage in the swamp, her blood pulsing with desperation to get there.
I’d rather die than see that dagger in your sister’s hands, Delora had declared, the memory only adding to Kiva’s dread.
“Take as long as you need, sweetheart,” Jaren said. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He pressed his mouth to hers, the lightest of touches and yet so full of promise, before finishing, “I’ll always wait for you.”
His words washed over her, the warmth of them nearly chasing away the cold that had swept in upon her first seeing the dagger.
Nearly — but not quite.
And because of that, Kiva forced a wobbly smile to her face and turned from him, keeping her steps even until she was out of sight around the corner.
Then she ran.
