CHAPTER FOUR
Clashing steel and heavy thumps from the hallway met Kiva’s ears as she slowly returned to consciousness. She uttered a quiet whimper, her sister’s parting gift feeling like a blade had pierced straight through her brain.
Nausea turned her stomach as the grimy room spun around her, the sensation easing only slightly by the time another loud thump came from just beyond the doorway, right before a figure rushed through it.
“Gods, Sweet Cheeks, you’re a mess.”
Relief and disappointment flooded Kiva at the sight of Jaren’s cousin, Prince Caldon, standing before her.
“I know, I know,” he said, moving quickly forward and reaching for her bindings, his golden hair shining in the dim light, his broad shoulders casting their own shadows. “You’re thrilled to see me. Delighted. Couldn’t imagine anyone you’d rather have here in my place. It pains me to say this, Sunshine, but you need to rein in your excitement. It’s embarrassing.”
Kiva groaned when all the ropes were cut away and he finally removed the gag. Unable to offer even the briefest of warnings, she leaned over the side of the chair — and vomited all over the moldy carpet.
Caldon swore and jumped away, sidestepping behind her to hold back her hair. “Usually people have a different reaction upon seeing me. I’ll try not to take offense.”
“Sorry,” Kiva said weakly, wiping her mouth and pressing a hand to the side of her head, the flesh hot and swollen and throbbing.
“Not your fault,” Caldon said, returning to face her. “That’s quite the shiner you’ve got yourself. But don’t worry, it only brings out your pretty eyes.”
Kiva groaned a second time. “Stop flirting with me, or I’ll be sick again.”
Caldon raised his arms in surrender, and Kiva’s vision finally focused enough to take in the blood splattering his body.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, inspecting him closely.
Caldon snorted. “It’ll take more than a few lousy rebels to cause me any
real damage.” A distant sound had him cocking his head and listening intently, before adding, “But there are others on the way, and since you’re more damsel-in-distress-y than usual, we should go.”
Kiva was in too much pain to argue about his damsel comment as Caldon carefully helped her to her feet, steadying her until she could hold her own weight.
“You good, Sunshine?” he asked, repeating the nickname he’d come up with during their time at the winter palace, a mockery of her less-than-sunny personality, he’d claimed.
“Good enough,” she said, having long since given up on asking him to call her by her actual name — especially when he’d responded that if she didn’t like Sunshine, then he could always call her Felon. She’d taken great delight in throwing a toss pillow into his laughing face.
When he’d shared the reason for her other nickname — Sweet Cheeks — she’d thrown something much heavier.
“I wish I could say we’ll take it slow, but I try to avoid lying to beautiful women,” Caldon said, supporting her with an arm around her waist as they moved toward the door, his other hand clenched around the hilt of his bloodied sword. “We need to get you back to the palace and send word to the others that you’re safe.”
“Where are the others?” Kiva asked as they entered the shabby hallway, the brighter lights making her wince.
“We had to split up,” Caldon said, toeing aside the body of a man he’d carved his way through to get to her. She glanced away quickly, partly to ward off memories of the last time she’d seen such violence — the bloodthirsty prison riot — and partly because the dead man had been ordered by Zuleeka to remain behind, giving his life for the rebel cause. Her family’s cause.
“Your abductors were clever,” Caldon went on. “They laid a number of false trails, making it hard for us to pinpoint which direction they’d really taken you, especially amid the festival chaos. Jaren and Naari took the eastern side of the city, Captain Veris and a contingent of guards are covering the south and north, and I came west.” He sent her a cocky grin. “I’ve always been the better tracker. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“We’re not out of here yet,” Kiva said. Remembering the role she had to play, she added, “And it’d be nice to know why they took me to begin with.”
“They didn’t say anything?” Caldon asked dubiously as he pulled her into
a large, high-ceilinged room that looked like it had once been a kitchen.
“I only woke up seconds before you came through the door,” Kiva said. It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. She continued playing her part, asking, “You mentioned before that it was the rebels — what would they want with me?”
Caldon’s cobalt eyes flashed and his jaw tightened, but he relaxed it to say, “Your guess is as good as mine, Sweet Cheeks.” He reached across and tapped her nose with his sword hand. “But I think it’s safe to assume you’re just very tasty bait for a much larger fish.”
Kiva swatted at his arm, but he’d already moved it back to his side, his body tensing as he brought them to a quick halt. His gaze narrowed in the direction of the door at the far end of the kitchen, his attention on something
beyond Kiva’s senses.
“What —”
Caldon shoved a hand over her mouth and pushed her behind a freestanding bench in the middle of the run-down room.
“Quiet,” he hissed, tugging her into a crouch. “We’ve got company.”
Zuleeka had said she was leaving a handful of people behind, but Kiva had assumed Caldon had already seen to those. Just how many more would have to fight — and die — to make this ruse believable?
“Seems our luck has run out,” Caldon said, unsheathing a second sword for himself along with a sharp dagger, which he held out to Kiva. “Do you know how to use this?”
Kiva grasped the pommel awkwardly between her thumb and forefinger.
“I, um . . . maybe?”
Caldon muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Gods spare me.”
“Believe it or not,” Kiva said defensively, “they didn’t teach us how to handle weapons in prison.”
The prince huffed with amusement before a noise in the next room caused a rare seriousness to overtake his features.
Grabbing her hand, he repositioned her fingers around the hilt, closed them tightly, and whispered, “If things get heated, run and hide, and I’ll find you afterward. Only use this” — he indicated the blade — “if absolutely necessary. But whatever you do, don’t stab yourself. Jaren will kill me.” As an afterthought, he added, “Don’t stab me either, obviously.”
Kiva sent him a bland look and didn’t bother to confirm that she had no
intention of stabbing anyone.
“By the sounds of it, there’s half a dozen of them waiting for us, maybe a few more,” he said, listening for something only he could hear.
“Can’t we go another way?” Kiva asked.
“They’ll have more people watching the back,” Caldon said. “The front door is right through this next room, which makes it our easiest path out.” He ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry, Sunshine. Half a dozen is nothing. I’ll keep you safe.”
Caldon might have been an incorrigible flirt, but something Kiva had learned in the last six weeks was that he wasn’t a spoiled prince who sat around playing courtier all day — even if, for reasons she’d yet to uncover, he made it so people believed that was true. His weapons weren’t for decoration; she’d seen him training with Jaren at the winter palace, the two of them sparring with lightning-fast speed, strength, and skill. Kiva believed Caldon when he said he would keep her safe, but it wasn’t her life she was worried about. Those were rebels he was about to fight a path through, all so she could keep up her ruse.
“Do me a favor and try not to puke again,” Caldon said, gripping his swords and rising from his crouch. “With you behind me, I’ll be right in your trajectory. You’ll ruin my outfit.”
His fitted green jacket was already speckled with blood, the silver embroidery now a rusty red, so she knew he was only speaking in an effort to keep her calm.
Bracing herself for what was about to happen, Kiva hurried forward with Caldon, but they barely made it halfway to the next room before the rebel group flew into the kitchen with raucous yells, their weapons held high.
Caldon cursed and shoved Kiva back, swinging his two swords to meet their attackers strike for strike. It wasn’t like when she’d watched him practicing with Jaren. That had been almost beautiful, with calculated, nimble steps. This was different; it was messy and chaotic, with an underlying fury coming from the rebels, and a cold calmness emanating from the warrior prince.
The first rebel fell before Kiva had even regained her balance, the second was down before she’d raised her dagger uselessly in the air. She was a healer, her sole mission in life to help people, not hurt them. But she didn’t know how much Zuleeka had told these rebels — whether they knew she was one of them, or if they believed she was the enemy.
Caldon dispatched the third and fourth attackers with ease, his blades blurring as he ducked and parried in quick succession. Five more rebels ran through the doorway, three of whom went straight for the prince, but the last two burly men bypassed the skirmish, their eyes locked on Kiva.
She backed away, clutching her dagger tight enough to make her fingers hurt. The men prowled toward her, licking their lips and sharing meaningful glances, dark anticipation spreading across their faces.
“I think we’ll have some fun with you,” the one in the lead said, his accent marking him as a native of Mirraven. Kiva had heard the rebels were recruiting from outside of Evalon, but seeing the evidence came as a surprise.
“Don’t worry, poppet. We’ll show you a good time.”
Bile rose within Kiva at the lecherous look on their faces, at the mirth touching their eyes as they took in her pathetic figure. Her dagger trembled, but she kept it aloft, her knuckles turning white around the pommel.
A quick glance revealed that Caldon still faced two opponents, both more skilled than those littering the moldy floor, demanding his full attention. But that didn’t keep him from peering back toward Kiva and noting the large men stalking her way.
“What are you waiting for?” he yelled, blocking an overhead swipe that would have split his skull in two. “Run!”
The command unfroze her brain, prompting her to turn and flee from the kitchen. She sprinted down the hallway in search of a hiding place, two pairs of heavy footfalls chasing after her. The pain in her head was secondary to the panicked awareness that she was in no condition to fight anyone, let alone her hulking pursuers. She couldn’t reveal who she was with Caldon so close, but she stood no chance if they — There. An open door, halfway down the hall.
Kiva ran straight through it and into a dark room lit by a sliver of moonlight peeking through a filthy window. Seeing no other exit, she slammed the door shut and slid the bolt into place, praying the lock would hold.
The doorknob rattled, a heavy thump sounding as one of the men shoved his weight against it.
“You really think this will stop us, poppet?” he called, the hinges groaning.
His next shove had enough force to crack a line through the rotten wood.
Kiva leapt forward to brace her body against it, her heart hammering and her
grip on the dagger tightening as she realized she had mere seconds before the door failed entirely.
The loudest thump yet echoed in her ears, followed by a muted oath and a thud that had the very walls shuddering, and she knew the time had come.
There was no way for her to communicate that she was on their side, nor would they believe her if she tried. She had only one choice: she had to fight.
A solid boot smashed into the door, splintering the wood around the bolt, and another kick thrust it open, sending Kiva flying. Not allowing herself to hesitate, she spun and roared into the face of the figure bearing down on her in the darkness, slashing out blindly with her dagger and feeling a sickening lurch when the blade sank through flesh.
“Dammit, Kiva, what the hell?”
In less than a second she was disarmed and yanked roughly back into the brighter hallway, only to see Caldon glaring furiously at her, a hand pressed to his bleeding shoulder.
“I told you not to stab me,” he said angrily. “You had one job.”
“Caldon,” she gasped, automatically reaching toward his wound. “I’m so sorry. I —”
She inhaled sharply and snatched her hands away, shoving them behind
her back.
No.
No, no, no.
It was just a trick of her eyes, that was all. Just the adrenaline flooding her veins, just the head wound making her see things — making her see the golden light start to glow from her fingers when she’d reached for the prince.
The golden light of healing magic.
Magic no one could know she wielded.
Especially not a Vallentis prince.
Kiva fisted her hands so hard that her nails pricked her skin, daring to look up and meet Caldon’s gaze. A relieved breath whooshed out of her when she found him scowling at his wound, offering no indication that he’d seen
anything strange.
“Are you all right?” Kiva asked feebly.
Caldon’s cobalt eyes speared hers. “This” — he indicated his shoulder — “is not how you make friends. And it’s definitely not how you keep them.”
“I’m sorry,” Kiva repeated, her voice thick with regret. She kept her hands behind her back, even if her healer instincts urged her to inspect his
injury. “I thought you were —”
“I know what you thought,” Caldon said, jerking his chin toward the two men on the ground. At the paling of her face, he sighed and visibly shook off his anger, holding out his hand. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
Kiva stared at his palm, her chest tightening with renewed fear.
Caldon’s features softened, misinterpreting her reaction. “You’re safe now, I promise.” He wiggled his fingers, and Kiva had no choice but to unfist her hands, breathing another quiet sound of relief at finding them perfectly normal.
Maybe she’d imagined the glow, after all.
But . . . she couldn’t ignore the sense of power thrumming just beneath her skin, an electric, addictive feeling begging for release. It took all of her strength to bury it deep down, forcing the tingling sensation to fade. Only then did she risk taking Caldon’s hand, his grip strong and steady as they set off down the hallway again and out into the night.
