CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kiva didn’t waste time changing into clothes better suited to riding, instead running straight out of the palace, her slippered feet sliding on the path. She swiftly intercepted a stableboy leading a guest’s horse away, taking the reins and exclaiming, “Family emergency!”
The prepubescent boy gaped as she mounted, silk skirts and all, and tore off toward the gates and out into the city.
Her previous two ventures to Blackwater Bog had taken twenty minutes at a sedate pace, but with urgency thrumming within her, Kiva galloped recklessly along the moonlit road, every part of her screaming to hurry.
If Zuleeka had gone for the dagger . . . If Delora had tried to stop her . . .
Kiva didn’t know which of her fears was the worst, but all of them led to what might happen if Zuleeka retrieved the Eye, leaving only one part of the Ternary — the queen’s Signet — between her and the entire kingdom.
She would become Queen of Evalon.
And the Vallentis family —
Jaren — Kiva couldn’t finish the thought.
She reminded herself there was no point in worrying about a future that hadn’t yet happened, especially when their elemental magic was more than enough to keep them safe. Each of them, even young Oriel, was a force to be reckoned with. Panicking about undetermined events would help no one.
So Kiva focused only on staying on her horse, on riding faster than the wind.
She reached the swamp in half the time it would normally take, her horse panting as she leapt from the saddle and bounded up the porch steps, her heart lodging in her throat when she saw the door to the cottage cracked open.
“Delora!” she called, sprinting through the doorway and into the living room. There she came to a dead halt, taking in the mess of books and ornaments strewn all over the floor, the shelves stripped and bookcases
overturned, the entire room looking as if it had exploded.
Zuleeka was nowhere to be seen.
But at the center of it all, face-down on the ground, was Delora.
“No!” Kiva gasped, lurching forward to kneel beside her grandmother, gently turning her over.
One look and Kiva recoiled, her hands flying away in shock and uncertainty. But then Delora moaned and Kiva realized the old woman was still alive. She just didn’t know what was wrong with her.
A shadowy mist had settled over her abdomen, like a swirling black cloud. Kiva had no idea what it was, just that it was hideously unnatural. She was loath to touch it, but she made herself lay trembling hands on Delora’s stomach, once again calling upon the healing magic in her veins, begging it to come to her grandmother’s aid.
Her fingers started to tingle, her skin burned, her power rose to the surface . . . but the golden light didn’t appear.
Something was wrong.
Her power wanted to heal, she could feel it there, ready and waiting for her to release it, but something was blocking it. Something that, for once, had nothing to do with Kiva.
Delora coughed and her eyes fluttered open. She seemed unsurprised to see Kiva, and equally unsurprised by the darkness that eddied along her torso.
“It w-won’t work,” Delora said in a weak voice, eyeing Kiva’s hands hovering above her. “Don’t waste your strength.”
Kiva ignored her and pushed harder, again urging her magic into the woman. But still, nothing happened — aside from a wave of dizziness hitting her, the force of which made her reach out to steady herself on the ground.
“The she-devil came for the d-dagger,” Delora said, her wrinkled face pinched with pain.
“What did she do to you?” Kiva breathed, reaching for the hem of her grandmother’s tunic. If magical means were beyond her, she still had mundane healing skills.
But Delora raised a fragile hand and stopped her. “I t-told you, she’s as dangerous as your mama. The same evil is in her.” She coughed again, a rattling, wet sound, her fingers tightening around Kiva’s. “This is what h- happens when you yield to Torvin’s darkness. When you turn from healing to hurt.”
Kiva’s stomach bottomed out. “But — Zuleeka doesn’t have magic.
She’s never had magic.”
“She lied. Your mama —” Another wet cough. “Your mama taught her everything she knew. They learned together.”
“No.” Kiva shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
But then she heard Torell’s voice, whispering across her mind: She and Mother were really close, especially toward the end. They spent every minute together.
Could it be true? Did Zuleeka have magic? Had she hidden it from them all? The evidence lay before Kiva, and yet, she still had trouble believing it, even seeing the darkness with her own eyes.
Delora coughed again, this time violently enough that her whole body buckled, a thin trail of blood leaking from her mouth.
Kiva cursed and demanded again, “What did she do to you?”
“My organs are sh-shutting down,” Delora whispered. “There’s n-nothing you can do while her power is working in my body, so you n-need to listen.”
“This is my fault,” Kiva moaned. “She came for the dagger because I —”
“Listen,” Delora urged, as more blood trickled down her chin. “The dagger —”
“I know it’s the Eye of the Gods,” Kiva said, wanting her grandmother to stop speaking, to rest. “I know Zuleeka can use it to take the throne.”
“No, you d-don’t understand,” Delora said, before launching into another coughing fit, pressing her free hand to her abdomen, her other still holding Kiva’s in a death grip. “The dagger — Sarana used it on Torvin. It’s how she s-saved the kingdom.”
Jaren had mentioned that before she’d fled the palace — how some of the legends claimed the queen had used it against the king, nearly killing him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kiva said soothingly, dabbing the blood off Delora’s rapidly paling face. “We need to get you some —”
“Kiva,” Delora snapped, a burst of frustration strengthening her voice.
“That dagger can take away magic. It was a gift from the gods — a gift for Sarana to use against Torvin. A gift to stop him.”
Kiva rocked backwards, her ears ringing in the wake of Delora’s damning
words.
That dagger can take away magic.
“I don’t —” Kiva breathed, unable to finish her horrified sentence.
Delora released Kiva and lifted her hem to reveal a jagged scar across her stomach, the death magic still swirling around her pale skin.
“You wanted to know how I repressed my magic?” Delora asked, her voice growing weak again. “I s-stabbed myself with that blade. The Eye drew every scrap of power out of me, eliminating any chance that I’d ever use it to hurt someone. I d-didn’t want to live with that fear.”
Kiva stared at the scar, even as realization hit her. “The potion — I tried to recreate it, but it didn’t work because — because —”
“It was n-never about the ingredients,” Delora confirmed. “I used the dagger to make it. That’s what stopped your magic.” She took Kiva’s hands again, both of them this time, her aged flesh cold and clammy. “You’re different from them, Kiva, the light to their darkness. Your magic is pure, your heart is true. I c-can sense it.”
A tear leaked down Kiva’s cheek, not just at the words, but because she could feel Delora fading. It wouldn’t be long now.
“But you m-must be careful,” Delora went on weakly — so very weakly.
“One mistake is all it will take, one p-poor choice. You have to fight it. Don’t become like them.” With a final pained gasp, Delora summoned the last of her strength to whisper, “Be the light in the dark, Kiva.”
And then her eyes closed, the black mist vanishing into nothing as she breathed her last.
Kiva bowed her head, tears dripping off her chin. She’d barely known her grandmother, and yet, she knew Delora didn’t deserve to meet this end.
This was Zuleeka’s doing.
She’d killed their grandmother.
Murdered her.
And she had the dagger — a weapon that could steal not only Jaren’s kingdom . . . but also his magic.
Kiva lurched to her feet, scrubbing a hand over her face. Delora needed to be buried, but Kiva would have to return for that later. Right now, she had to get to the palace and warn Jaren, even if it meant revealing the truth about who she was. Too much was at stake to risk keeping the danger to herself.
They needed to guard the queen’s Signet and prepare for Zuleeka’s death magic however they could. Because while Kiva had seen the strength of the Vallentis’s elemental powers, they had no idea what Zuleeka was capable of.
And if she were to attack without warning . . . especially with that dagger . . .
Kiva cast one final glance at her grandmother, and then ran from the room, determined to keep her sister from harming anyone else that night — or ever again.
The ride back to Vallenia was just as harrowing as the journey to Blackwater Bog, but Kiva pushed her mount faster, terror and desperation brewing within her, along with a rising dread that she was already too late. There was no telling how long ago Zuleeka had left Murkwood Cottage, but Kiva hadn’t passed her on the journey. She could already be at the palace and — Enough! Kiva mentally screamed, unwilling to travel further down that road.
When finally the palace gates rose before her, Kiva nearly wept, sweat coating both her and her mount as they sailed right past the guards and along the manicured garden path. She barely came to a halt before leaping off her horse, thrusting the reins at a manservant, and bounding through the pillared entryway. Her lungs burned, her sides ached, but on she ran, taking the stairs two at a time as she sprinted directly for the ballroom, bursting through the ornate doors to find — Dancing couples. Laughing faces. Boisterous conversations.
Nothing had changed.
Nothing was wrong.
Kiva loosed a relieved sob and searched frantically for Jaren among the crowd, certain he must have given up waiting for her in the River Room by now.
She couldn’t see him anywhere, nor could she see Mirryn, but she spotted Caldon dancing with a dark-haired woman. Fearing it was Zuleeka, Kiva’s heart arrested, before a quick spin revealed her to be someone else.
Kiva tore across the ballroom toward them, her disheveled appearance eliciting gasps and murmurs from those she passed. When Caldon caught sight of her, he halted mid-dance, offering an apology to his partner before striding to meet her partway across the room.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, eyeing her from head to toe.
“Where’s Jaren?” Kiva panted.
Caldon rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You two need to —”
Kiva grabbed the lapels of his jacket, shaking him fiercely. “Caldon, where’s Jaren?”
The prince turned alert. “Last I knew, he was with you.”
Kiva closed her eyes, wondering if Jaren had waited for her, just as he’d promised. “Have you seen Zuleeka?”
“She was just here, asking where to find you,” Caldon said. “Someone
told her they saw you and Jaren heading to the River Room a while ago.”
Seeing Kiva pale, Caldon added, “Naari followed her — she can’t get into any trouble.”
Kiva didn’t need to hear more, already turning to sprint back the way she’d come.
“Hey — wait!” Caldon called, his long steps catching up easily as she bolted out of the ballroom and toward the nearest staircase. Keeping pace at her side, he demanded, “What’s wrong?”
“Zuleeka’s dangerous.” Kiva didn’t slow as they climbed to the next floor and barreled along the hallway. “She has magic. Evil magic. And she has a dagger that —”
Kiva and Caldon burst through the doors of the River Room before she could finish her warning. And then she couldn’t speak at all, because the moment she saw her sister standing with Jaren by the window-wall, a wave of blackness speared toward her, rooting her feet to the floor.
It wasn’t like when the queen had encased Kiva’s ankles in ice. Instead, it was as if her very bones had fused together, her legs forced apart, her arms stretched out to the sides, her mouth sealed shut, pain tearing through her as Zuleeka’s dark magic manipulated her muscles and tendons to her will.
Beside her, Kiva was aware of Caldon locked in the same position, the two of them entirely trapped by Zuleeka’s magic — as was Jaren across the room, his body immobile while his eyes blazed with fury.
But Jaren wasn’t looking at them. He wasn’t even looking at Zuleeka.
His gaze was fixed on the floor.
Where Naari lay.
Eyes closed.
In a pool of blood.
Kiva’s heart stopped. But then she saw the slight rise and fall of the
guard’s chest.
Alive — she was alive.
If Kiva had been in control of her own body, she would have buckled with the weight of her relief.
And then she realized something else: Naari had felt Zuleeka’s magic before.
Darkness swirled in my vision and my limbs just wouldn’t obey me, the guard had said when recounting the day she’d lost her hand. It was terrible, not being able to control myself.
If only Kiva had known about the dark magic sooner; if only she’d — “Sister, so good of you to join us,” Zuleeka purred, interrupting Kiva’s woeful thoughts.
A fireball surged from Caldon, making Kiva wonder why Jaren wasn’t using his own magic. Her terror flooded anew, but he didn’t appear to be injured — nor was there any sign of the dagger.
Before Kiva’s alarm could grow, Caldon’s fire hit Zuleeka square in the
chest — And did absolutely nothing.
Zuleeka slashed a grin, fishing something out from beneath the high collar of her navy ballgown.
Kiva’s remaining breath fled at the sight of the amulet.
Her amulet.
But how — Inhaling sharply, Kiva recalled the long embrace she’d shared with Zuleeka that afternoon, when her sister had been whispering assurances in her ear, her hand on the back of Kiva’s neck the whole time.
Working at the clasp.
Kiva hadn’t realized. Even when she’d donned her ballgown and looked in her mirror, she’d been so startled by her transformation — and so exhausted from healing Torell — that she hadn’t noticed it missing.
“Thank you for the gift, sister,” Zuleeka said, stroking the powerful crest.
“I never would have made it this far without its protection.”
Jaren’s eyes shot to Kiva, disbelief and uncertainty emanating from him.
She wanted to scream that Zuleeka was lying, to even just shake her head, but she couldn’t move.
“I don’t have long,” Zuleeka said, returning the amulet beneath her dress.
“I have business in the western palace.” Another slash of a smile, and then she pulled up her skirt and removed a dagger — the dagger — from her thigh holster.
Kiva made a panicked sound in the back of her throat, and Caldon launched another fireball, but it just bounced straight off Zuleeka again.
“Recognize this, Prince?” she said to Jaren, tapping the jewel.
“Unfortunately for you, the blade your general possesses is a fake. This is the real dagger gifted by the gods. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years, passed down from generation to generation.” Her eyes flicked to Kiva’s, a smirk growing as she corrected, “Our family. I think it’s time you and your
beloved were properly introduced.”
Kiva made another distressed noise, but Zuleeka merely gave a poisonous smile and said, “Deverick Vallentis, meet Kiva Corentine — Torvin Corentine’s descendant and my dear rebel sister, who has been working tirelessly to bring you and your family to your knees.” Zuleeka winked at Kiva. “Well done, sister. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Kiva barely heard Zuleeka, her gaze locked on Jaren, allowing her to see the devastation ravishing his features, his heart breaking before her eyes.
“It’s a stinging betrayal,” Zuleeka went on mercilessly. “But it gets worse.”
She dragged the tip of her dagger over Jaren’s chest, his breathing turning shallow — whether from fear of the weapon or from the pain of what he’d just learned, Kiva wasn’t sure.
“You see, my dear sister helped me steal the Book of the Law,” Zuleeka
went on.
SHE’S LYING, Kiva wanted to scream.
“And coupled with this” — Zuleeka indicated the dagger — “I now have two items from your not-so-secret Royal Ternary. That leaves only one left.”
She cocked her head. “Tell me, Your Highness, have you seen your sister today?”
This time it was Caldon who made a strangled sound.
“With so many people coming and going for the party, it was almost too easy to steal her away,” Zuleeka said, grinning. “The poor little princess is having the most awful birthday, but I daresay your mother will give me anything I want in exchange for Mirryn’s safe return, don’t you think?”
Gods, gods, Kiva thought, recalling what Mirryn had said about Ariana just yesterday: I know she’d bring down entire kingdoms if anything ever happened to Jaren or Ori or me. She wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to make sure we were safe.
The queen was going to hand over her Signet — there was no way she
wouldn’t.
This was all Kiva’s fault.
And she couldn’t let it continue.
You’re different from them, Kiva, the light to their darkness.
Delora’s words fueled her desperation, stirring the magic in her blood and urging it to rise. It hadn’t worked around whatever Zuleeka had done to their grandmother, but Kiva refused to let that stop her. She would try, and keep
trying, drawing on every drop of golden power in her veins to break free of the darkness trapping her. Trapping them all.
“As helpful as it’s been,” Zuleeka continued speaking to Jaren, “I’ve heard the power in this amulet has an expiration point, and you’ve certainly already tried to speed it along, given how much magic you threw at me when I first arrived. That must have been exhausting.”
Jaren had fought her — of course he had. Naari, too, given the state of the guard. But neither of them had succeeded. Not with Jaren’s own magic protecting Zuleeka. Magic he’d given Kiva.
“I’m glad I had a warning from my sister about that,” Zuleeka went on slyly. “All four elements — it’s far too much power for one person. I knew that the moment she told me about your secret.”
Jaren’s eyes slashed to Kiva again, and again she wished she could scream that it wasn’t true. Kiva hadn’t shared about his magic. But then . . . how did Zuleeka know?
“Fortunately, I have a way to fix that,” Zuleeka said, waving the dagger.
“I’ve been trying to get my hands on this for years — not because it’s part of your Ternary, that came as a pleasant surprise — but because the Eye has a much more useful power, one that my mother told me all about. Her mother had the audacity to hide it from us, but as you already know, Kiva has been a wonderful spy in so many ways. She might as well have handed it right to me.”
Zuleeka had lied about wanting the blade as a symbol to the rebels. Lies upon lies. But Kiva couldn’t dwell on them now, instead strengthening her attempt to summon her magic, straining against the darkness that held her at bay.
“In all the legends you’ve heard about Sarana and Torvin, did you never wonder why Torvin didn’t return to take back his kingdom?” Zuleeka asked conversationally. “It’s because of this.” She touched a finger to the glittering jewel. “The Eye of the Gods — their gift to Sarana.” With a gleeful smile, she revealed, “A weapon forged to take away her husband’s magic.”
Jaren’s face turned white, and Caldon sucked in a sharp breath.
“I’d always intended to use it on you one day, taking your magic away,”
Zuleeka declared, “but this opportunity is too good to resist. Why take your magic when I can just kill you?”
Kiva stopped breathing, her power slipping away like water through her fingertips.
Zuleeka pressed the blade up against Jaren’s heart, looking back and asking, “Any final words, sister?”
Kiva’s mouth loosened, but she didn’t speak, forcing aside her terror and concentrating, concentrating on the burning beneath her skin, the tingling at her fingertips, pulling power from the very essence of who she was. But still, the blackness swirled around her, no sign of her golden light even though she could feel it right there, just out of reach.
Your magic is pure, your heart is true. You have to fight it.
Kiva didn’t need Delora’s encouragement, already fighting with everything she had. Sweat dripped down her face, mixing with her tears — which only flowed faster when Zuleeka shrugged and resealed her lips, turning back to Jaren and crowing, “I guess she doesn’t care enough to say goodbye.”
You’re different from them, Delora had said, the light to their darkness.
Zuleeka drew back her dagger arm.
Be the light in the dark.
“Farewell, Prince,” Zuleeka said, her snake-smile growing.
Be the light in the dark.
Zuleeka’s dagger sliced through the air — BE THE LIGHT IN THE DARK. — and with an almighty scream, golden light burst from Kiva, the darkness vanishing under its sheer force, releasing her, releasing Caldon, releasing Jaren, leaving no trace of her sister’s corrupt magic to be seen.
But then Zuleeka’s blade stabbed into Jaren’s flesh.
Right into his heart.
A wave of power erupted from him, sending Kiva and Caldon flying into the wall, the windows shattering, the chandelier crashing to the ground.
Zuleeka alone remained standing as Jaren slid to his knees, his mouth open in a gasp of pain, his now-free hands clutching at the dagger lodged in his chest.
“NO!” Kiva shrieked, her ears ringing, head pounding, not just from the strength of his shockwave, but also from how much it had cost her to banish Zuleeka’s magic.
She tried to get up, a sob leaving her when she couldn’t stand, but she needed to get to Jaren — she needed to get to Jaren.
Caldon was groaning, bleeding from his head, barely conscious. He couldn’t help her. She had to — she had to — Crawling on hands and knees, heedless of the broken luminium shards
cutting her skin, tearing her dress, she scrambled toward Jaren, reaching him just as Zuleeka viciously tore out her blade and declared, “Save him, or stop me. The choice is yours, sister.”
And then Zuleeka was gone, donning her mask — her Viper mask — and sprinting out of the room to go make her bargain with the queen.
But Kiva didn’t care.
Zuleeka could have the kingdom.
Just as long as Jaren lived.
His eyes were already fluttering shut, blood gushing from his chest. And yet, at seeing Kiva hovering over him, he still managed to lock his pained gaze with hers, whispering in a ragged, agonized voice, “How . . . could . . . you?” before he lost his battle for consciousness.
The accusation in his words broke something inside Kiva, but right now she had greater concerns than how much he — deservedly — hated her.
“No, no, no,” she cried, pressing her hands against his wound.
He couldn’t die.
He couldn’t die.
And even though Kiva had nothing left, even though it had taken everything in her to free them all, she still closed her eyes and called to the deepest recesses of who she was, begging for even the smallest speck of
power to come forth, to rise.
“Please,” she croaked. “P-Please.”
For one terrifying moment, nothing happened.
But then she felt it.
Her fingers tingled, her skin burned — and the golden glow poured from her hands, straight into Jaren’s wound.
Kiva sobbed, laying her head on his bloodied torso, unable to hold her own weight as her healing light flooded him.
She heard another groan from Caldon, sensed him crawling across the room toward them, but she didn’t look, pushing all her remaining strength into her magic until the glow finally faded.
And when Kiva sat up, she sobbed anew at the sight of the wound sealed shut.
But then another sob left her, this one not from relief, but with sorrow as she recalled how Jaren had once explained his power: My magic is a part of me. Like an arm or a leg.
Zuleeka had stabbed him with the Eye of the Gods.
When Jaren woke, his magic would be gone.
Kiva had done that to him.
She might have saved his life, but she was the reason he’d lost his magic.
And soon, his entire kingdom.
He would never forgive her.
She would never forgive herself.
“You need to run.”
The dead-sounding voice came from Caldon.
Kiva turned woodenly to him, finding his eyes locked on Jaren’s chest.
“He’s going to be all right,” she croaked, just in case Caldon didn’t realize.
“You need to run,” he repeated, his cobalt eyes darkening to ink. “Before he wakes. Before she wakes.” He nodded to Naari.
“I didn’t know,” Kiva rasped, needing him to believe her. “I swear I didn’t —”
“Don’t,” he said, whip-sharp, holding a hand to his bleeding head. “Not right now. I need to — I need to think. And you need to leave before they toss you in the dungeons. Or kill you outright.”
Kiva swallowed, more tears flooding her eyes.
“Cal —”
“Run, damn it!” he roared.
Seeing the raw pain in his features, the grief, the heartache — for her — Kiva staggered to her feet.
And then, with only a single look back — just enough for one final glimpse of Jaren’s pale, unconscious face, committing every line of it to memory — she bolted from the room.
Faster and faster Kiva flew through the palace halls, her golden dress bloodied and torn, tears streaking her cheeks, but she didn’t stop, even as waves of exhaustion and grief pummeled her, as dizziness threatened to
topple her.
She had to keep going.
Because as soon as Jaren woke and realized what had happened, what
he’d lost, what she’d done — Kiva had to keep going.
Torell — she had to find Torell. He might have been the rebels’ general, but Kiva knew deep down that he’d had no knowledge of Zuleeka’s true plans — or her death magic. Once she explained, he would help her. Some
way, somehow, he would — “Going somewhere?”
Kiva came to a screeching halt in the entrance hall, mere steps from the front doors.
She spun in place, nearly collapsing with relief at the sight of Mirryn standing there, her ice blue gown and mask perfect, not a hair out of place.
“Mirry,” Kiva gasped, reaching out as if to prove she was real, that she was safe.
“Sorry about this,” the princess said nonsensically. “It’s nothing personal.”
Before Kiva could question the warning, two bursts of air slammed into the sides of her head, the pressure like twin daggers stabbing her eardrums.
Sheer, inconceivable agony had her screaming out, the pain unlike anything she’d ever known . . . until it became too much, and everything faded to black.
