CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kiva awoke in a cell.
Panic hit her, raw and hard, and she jumped to her feet, a hand flying to her aching head. But her pain was secondary to her fear, her eyes struggling to see in the limited light. Disoriented as she was, for one petrifying second she wondered if she was back in the Abyss, before her wits returned. It took weeks to travel to Zalindov from Vallenia — she was still at the palace.
In the dungeons.
Trembling all over, Kiva approached the iron bars blocking her escape, wrapping her hands around them and giving a useless tug.
“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing down the shadowy passage. “Is anyone there?”
Footsteps sounded in the distance, heels clacking on stone. Kiva expected a guard to appear, but instead she found herself face-to-face with Mirryn, her appearance just as perfect as before, not a scratch or tear or anything to indicate she’d been in a struggle.
Kiva’s hands shook on the bars, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Zuleeka never abducted you, did she?”
The princess held her eyes. “She didn’t need to.”
Four words, and Kiva’s world crumbled.
“Your sister and I have been allies for some time,” Mirryn revealed, smoothing the front of her dress. “We realized we both have the same goals, and that we’d reach them faster if we worked together.”
Mirryn was Zuleeka’s spy in the palace, Kiva suddenly understood. The one who had told Zuleeka about Jaren’s magic, and gods knew what else.
She’d betrayed her own family, had helped orchestrate everything that had happened tonight.
Afraid of the answer, Kiva asked, “What goals?”
“To rule Evalon, of course,” Mirryn said.
But — Mirryn already ruled Evalon. She was a Vallentis. A princess from birth.
Kiva’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you seriously have no idea?” Mirryn huffed out a laugh. She shifted forward, wrapping one hand around the bars, nearly brushing Kiva’s fingers.
“You see my brother just like everyone else — perfect and wonderful and amazing in every single way. Can’t you imagine what it’s like growing up beside that?”
Kiva’s exhausted, throbbing mind was scrambling to follow. “You’re — You’re jealous of Jaren?” she asked. “That’s why you’re helping the rebels take the throne? Your throne? Just so he doesn’t inherit it?”
Mirryn snorted. “You’re finally starting to catch up. But you’re only halfway there.” Her angry blue gaze locked with Kiva’s as she explained, “It was never my throne, but it always should have been. I was the firstborn child — it was my birthright until precious Jaren came along, his magic considered so much more powerful, as if that meant something. Everything was taken from me the day they decided he should rule in my place: my title, my future, everything. I was raised in his shadow, always second best, always the spare.”
Her face twisted, the knuckle of her hand turning white against the bars, but then she visibly relaxed. “When I met your sister, she told me we could work together to get back what belonged to me, what belonged to us. It was a proposal too tempting to resist.” She paused, then admitted, “That said, it’s only been in the last few weeks that I really dedicated myself to our work. I helped provide information before that, but I wasn’t in a rush for action. Now
I am.”
“Why?” Kiva croaked. “What changed?”
“Navok.” Mirryn spat the Mirraven king’s name like a curse. “He said I’m not good enough, that I’m ‘just a princess’ — can you believe that? We were so careful to keep our relationship secret from him, but somehow he found out. And now he’s forcing the woman I love to marry Voshell, knowing that one day he’ll be king, and she’ll rule Caramor at his side.”
Kiva blinked, realizing Mirryn was talking about King Navok’s sister, Serafine. But that meant — Her family got involved. They didn’t think we were a good match.
Princess Serafine was Mirryn’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. They must have been forced apart because Navok wanted his sister to marry an heir, not a spare.
Kiva almost felt sympathy toward Mirryn — but only almost.
The princess leaned closer, her eyes fevered. “This is the only way I can get Serafine back — by becoming Queen of Evalon. Navok promised he’ll terminate her betrothal the moment I’m on the throne. Then she can be mine.”
“Where does Zuleeka fit into that plan?” Kiva asked hoarsely.
“She and I will rule together,” Mirryn said. “We’ve already agreed — we’ll be two queens the likes of which this world has never seen. A Corentine and a Vallentis, the way it was always meant to be.” A slash of a smile. “And it’s all thanks to you.”
Kiva shook her head in denial even if she knew the princess spoke true.
“The Royal Ternary,” Mirryn mused, raising her free hand. On her finger was a ring — the queen’s Signet, Kiva realized with a sinking heart. “We never would have known about that clause if not for you,” Mirryn went on.
“That saved us years of planning.” Another flash of teeth in the low light, stretching into a beaming grin. “Thank you, Kiva. You have no idea how
happy you’ve made me. And Zuleeka.”
Kiva felt hollow inside.
“Unfortunately,” Mirryn said, her grin fading, “it’ll take time for us to figure out how to make the announcement and enact the change of rulership.
Even with the Ternary clause, the citizens of Evalon could still revolt. They may not care that we have a legal right to the throne, despite the Royal Council having no choice but to confirm it.” Mirryn’s lips tipped upward again as she added, “But your sister has a backup plan, just in case. I’ll let her explain when she gets here. She wants to say goodbye.”
Goodbye? Kiva wondered.
“In the meantime,” Mirryn went on, “we’ve ordered Mother to act as if nothing has changed, even though she’s fully aware that she’s no longer in charge. The Royal Council will be informed first thing in the morning. We’ll then discuss the most effective way for my family to abdicate.”
“Jaren won’t abdicate,” Kiva said, everything in her hurting from just saying his name. “Royal Ternary or not.”
Mirryn’s face tightened. “He won’t have a choice. Once we find him —”
She broke off suddenly, as if realizing what she’d said.
Kiva latched on to it, hope welling within her. “Find him?”
Scowling down the dark corridor, Mirryn shared, “Caldon got him and Naari out before we could secure them. But they have nowhere to go, and Jaren has no magic. We’ll find them soon enough.”
For the first time since she’d awoken, a smile touched Kiva’s lips. “Don’t count on it.”
Mirryn’s scowl deepened. “You look much too pleased for someone locked in a dungeon.”
“You obviously have some plan for me,” Kiva pointed out, “or you wouldn’t have dragged me here.” She’d already noted the lack of guards, making her think Mirryn must have levitated her into the cell without anyone seeing, everyone too distracted by the party. “If you’re hoping to use me to lure Jaren back, it won’t work. Not now that he —”
Not now that he knew who she was. Kiva couldn’t finish the sentence, her voice cracking on the words.
“That’s not actually our intention. But don’t worry, you won’t be staying here for long,” Mirryn said, humor threading her tone. “Just until — ah, here she comes.”
Another set of footsteps was echoing down the passage, and then Zuleeka was striding into view, still dressed in her navy gown but now with a dark cloak over it, her face solemn.
“Hello, sister,” she said, stopping beside Mirryn. “You’ve had quite the
day.”
Kiva swallowed, unable to reply.
Zuleeka turned to the princess. “Give us a moment.”
Mirryn looked like she was about to object, but then dipped her head and relented. “Call when you’re ready for me. I’ll be right outside.”
Kiva didn’t know what the words meant, but an anxious knot swelled in her middle as Mirryn walked away.
Zuleeka waited until the princess was out of hearing range before she said, “I told you I’d explain some things the next time we were alone.”
“Do you really think I want to hear anything you have to say?” Kiva rasped, unable to hide the depth of her pain. “All you’ve done is lie to me.”
Zuleeka was unmoved. “I’m not the one who betrayed our family.”
Kiva pressed closer to the bars. “You’re such a hypocrite,” she hissed.
“You’re angry at me for everything with Jaren, when you’ve been working with a Vallentis all along.”
“You don’t know what you’re taking about,” Zuleeka shot back. But she said nothing more.
Glaring at her, Kiva said, “Tell me what you came here to say, then leave.
If I ever see you again after that —”
“You’ll what?” Zuleeka asked in a taunting voice. “What will you do, Kiva? Will you hurt me with that healing magic of yours?” She raised her hand and summoned a tendril of darkness. “I’d like to see you try.”
Kiva recoiled at the memory of what it had felt like to be trapped by that awful power.
Zuleeka snorted, dropping her hand again. “You’re pathetic. Mother never should have bothered trying to get to you in Zalindov. But if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Mirraven in my pocket, so at least her sacrifice was
worth something.”
Kiva froze. “What?”
“The bargain Mother made with Navok — I said I’d tell you, and believe what you want about me but I rarely go back on my word.” Zuleeka brushed invisible dirt from her shoulder before revealing, “Mother allied the rebels with Mirraven. With Caramor, too, since they’re so tightly joined, though her deal was with King Navok only.” As if to herself, she murmured, “He’s not going to like what happened in the warehouse today, but he should’ve had more patience. Those idiots could’ve ruined everything.”
Heart pounding as Zuleeka’s words repeated in her ears — Mother allied the rebels with Mirraven — Kiva ignored everything else to ask through numb lips, “What deal?”
“Evalon’s defenses are too strong for the northern territories to invade without inside help,” Zuleeka said. “So we — the rebels — will be the help.”
Kiva struggled against her growing alarm. It sounded like Zuleeka was planning to aid Navok in taking over Evalon. But — “Why would Mother make that promise if she wanted the kingdom for us?” Kiva asked, confused.
“Her anger was enough that she would’ve been happy just to unseat the Vallentis family, even if she couldn’t take the throne from them herself,”
Zuleeka said. “When she left us to make the deal with Mirraven, she’d been working for years with little to show for it, and she was becoming sick enough that she knew she had to make a choice. She decided that allying with Navok would be the fastest way to get vengeance. But despite that, she still did everything she could to make sure there would be a Corentine ruling by his side.”
It took a moment for Kiva to understand, but when she did, she gasped aloud. “Are you saying — are you marrying King Navok? Was that part of the deal?”
Zuleeka’s hands clenched into fists, the only indication of how she felt about the arrangement. But all she said was, “Mother didn’t know about the Royal Ternary — she didn’t know there might be another legitimate way.
Even with it, there could still be problems, so Mirraven’s forces will guarantee the citizens of Evalon fall into line. The armies, too. Either way, a Corentine will be on the throne. That’s what matters.”
The backup plan Princess Mirryn had mentioned — it was Mirraven.
Gods. Gods.
Jaren had been right all those nights ago when he’d shared his concerns about the northern kingdoms.
But he’d been wrong to underestimate the rebels.
“Does Tor know about this?”
Zuleeka barked out a laugh. “What do you think?” She shook her head, then looked down before quietly admitting, “I felt awful about stabbing him today, but I couldn’t risk him getting in the way — I knew he’d try to stop me if he figured out what I was planning tonight. I’ve known for some time that his loyalty has been wavering. And much more so since you returned.”
Kiva gaped at her sister. “You stabbed him? But I saw —”
Arms, legs, three bodies tangled. That was all Kiva had seen, no proof of who had plunged the Mirraven’s sword into her brother.
“I had to make it look real,” Zuleeka stated, stepping back and reaching into her cloak. “And I knew you’d be able to heal him. The only question will be what he remembers when he wakes, but I’ll deal with that in the morning.
You, however, won’t know for some time how all this plays out.”
“What do you —”
Before Kiva could finish, Zuleeka blew a handful of golden dust into her face. She coughed and spluttered as a rich caramelly taste overwhelmed her
senses.
Along with absolute, blinding dread.
Angeldust.
The highly addictive drug was all over her, had gone straight down her
nose and into her opened mouth.
“What the hell, Zul —”
“You took Mother from me,” Zuleeka interrupted, her face hard. “In ways you don’t even know about. Ways you’ll never understand. She always believed in you so much more than me. The golden child, she called you. So much power, she said. So much potential. But look at you — you’re
nothing.”
Zuleeka made a scoffing sound, but Kiva was beginning to have trouble focusing around the quick-acting drug, fighting to comprehend her sister’s anger. Fighting to comprehend anything.
“You took everything from me,” Zuleeka hissed. “And now I’m taking it from you.”
“I don’t —” Kiva tried to say, but the words mashed together before leaving her lips.
Zuleeka waved the pouch of golden powder in the air, her voice much calmer as she said, “Consider this a gift for all your help. The last gift you’ll ever receive from me. That, and this.”
With her vision moving in and out of focus, Kiva watched as Zuleeka removed the amulet from beneath her gown, reaching through the bars to slip the chain over Kiva’s neck.
“The last of its protective power faded when I went to get the Signet from the queen,” Zuleeka said. “She and Prince Oriel put up enough of a fight to drain it, so it’s useless now, but I want you to have it as a reminder of tonight — of everything you helped make happen. We’ll send along orders to make sure they don’t remove it with the rest of your possessions. I want you to remember, every day, until you no longer can.”
Kiva swayed on her feet, the iron bars swirling before her, every word from her sister’s mouth like a hazy, nonsensical dream.
Zuleeka gave a sharp whistle, much like she’d done in the warehouse earlier that day, then waved the angeldust pouch again and said, “This really is a gift — something to help you survive the long journey back. You won’t notice a thing, not even the passing of time.”
Zuleeka’s face was melting into colorful shapes as the hallucinogenic drug pulled Kiva into its embrace, but somehow she managed to slur a single word: “Back?”
“To Zalindov,” Zuleeka said. “I can’t have you running around helping your prince get in the way of my grand plans. Or Torell, if he doesn’t cooperate.” She leaned toward the swirling bars and whispered, her face tinged with a hint of madness, “There’s so much more happening here, so much you don’t understand. Mother was thinking too small. I won’t be making the same mistake. And I won’t risk you being free to stop me.”
In the back of Kiva’s mind, she knew she should be upset, even terrified, but instead, her limbs loosened as she relaxed, a humming sensation
overtaking her body, the pain in her head fading and her troubles disappearing.
Zuleeka was saying something else, something Kiva couldn’t hear around the pleasant chiming sound in her ears. She watched through a foggy cloud as her sister turned to look at someone — Mirryn, who rematerialized at her side, summoned by the whistle — and handed over the golden pouch.
“She’s already so out of it,” the princess commented, her amused voice coming to Kiva as if from far away. “I’ll go make sure the prison wagon is ready and give the rest of this to her guards. They’ve agreed to keep her dosed until she reaches Zalindov. She won’t cause them any problems that way.”
The fuzzy outline of ice blue silk disappeared from Kiva’s vision, her head lolling to the side. Somehow she’d ended up on the ground without realizing it.
“Goodbye, sister.” Zuleeka’s words were nothing more than a distorted whisper of sound. “I wish things could have been different.”
What happened next, Kiva couldn’t say, the angeldust pulling her under, its grip swift and powerful. She was aware of Mirryn’s blue dress returning again, of the dungeon cell opening and then her body floating. She laughed at the sensation, feeling lighter than air, but then she was outside in the cold and lying on a hard surface, her limbs cramped tight as more iron bars surrounded
her, caging her in.
And then she was moving.
The following minutes, hours, days, weeks became a blur of crunching gravel and clanging bars, broken only by the briefest moments of clarity, just enough time for her transfer guards to blow more of the caramelly powder into her face, sending her under all over again. She dreamed of golden palaces and glittering rivers, of rooms full of windows and mist-covered marble. She saw Jaren’s face, his hands, his lips, as he touched her, held her, cherished her. And she whispered to him, telling him everything she’d never said aloud, all the truths she’d bottled up inside, too afraid of what they would mean if she let them out.
I know you’re scared. But I promise you don’t have to be.
His voice washed over her like pure sunshine, and she wanted to tell him he was wrong. She wasn’t scared anymore.
Because she loved him.
More than anything.
And when she finally awoke one crisp morning and found herself surrounded by familiar limestone walls, the first thing she did was murmur
his name, reaching for him.
But he wasn’t there.
Reality crashed down on Kiva, even as the angeldust still flooding her system sought to regain control of her mind. She fought it, remembering how Jaren had looked after he’d kissed her — and then the pain in his features after he’d learned of her betrayal.
A sob left her, but her anguish was muted by the drug, as was her fear when Warden Rooke’s dark face appeared, staring triumphantly through the iron bars of her prison wagon.
“Pity we filled your position in the infirmary,” he said, “but there’s always plenty of work in the tunnels.” His lips stretched into a smile.
“Welcome home, N18K442.”
And that was the last Kiva knew before the angeldust pulled her under again, leaving her with one final conscious thought: If Rooke was sending her to the tunnels, she would have six months left.
A year at the most.
And then she would be dead.
