CHAPTER FIVE
After exiting the dilapidated building, Caldon led Kiva through a narrow alleyway, his hand still entwined with hers. There was nothing romantic about his hold, but rather it was like he was lending her his strength, his reminder that she was safe with him.
“Thank you,” Kiva said quietly. “For coming to get me.”
“By ‘get you,’ I assume you mean ‘save your ass,’” he muttered, turning them down a dark side street. “You owe me a new jacket, by the way.”
“I didn’t throw up on you,” Kiva defended.
“No, you just stabbed me,” he shot back. “There’s a hole two inches wide, right through the embroidery. It’s completely ruined.”
Kiva bit her lip, since it wasn’t just the fabric that was damaged. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
Registering her concern, Caldon dropped his attitude. “It’s just a flesh wound, Sunshine,” he said in a soothing voice. “You barely scratched me.”
She knew he was lying — she’d felt the blade sink into his flesh — but she was grateful for the reassuring look he sent her.
They turned down another side street, this one brighter than the others, the distant sounds of the River Festival reaching Kiva’s ears. She felt like years had passed since she’d witnessed the queen’s magic show. Exhaustion flooded her, the increased throbbing of her head making her desperate for a long, hot soak in the palace’s massive bathing tubs, after which she would happily sleep for the next three months.
“The rebels did us a favor by dragging you over to this side of the river,”
Caldon said conversationally. “From here we can take the back entrance into the palace, avoiding the crowds entirely.”
Kiva wondered if her sister had planned that, like an ironic gift to ease the blow of everything she’d suffered through that night.
“We’re nearly there now,” the prince continued. “Are you good to keep going? We can stop and rest if you need a minute?”
Kiva hadn’t realized that Caldon had slowed his steps for her. “I’m fine,”
she said, picking up her pace.
“You have a bump the size of Wenderall on the side of your head,”
Caldon said dryly. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of not fine.”
Kiva grimaced, but returned, “And you’re bleeding from multiple wounds. If anyone needs to rest, it’s you.”
“Just the one wound, actually,” Caldon said with a pointed look.
Kiva didn’t say anything to that, feeling guilty all over again.
Caldon squeezed her fingers and relented, “You’re forgiven, Sunshine. I know you didn’t mean it.”
He was right. And that, Kiva realized, was a problem. Because Caldon was a Vallentis. Not even her favorite Vallentis, if she was being truthful.
And yet, knowing she’d caused him pain made her feel physically ill.
Compassion was a healer’s most intrinsic quality, she reminded herself.
What she was feeling was normal, a part of her fundamental makeup. But she could control it. She would control it. For ten years, all she’d wanted was to seek vengeance on the royal family — his family. Nothing would stop her from her mission, least of all herself.
“Home sweet home,” Caldon said when they turned the next corner to find the Serin River spread out before them, lapping gently against the stone wall bordering the rear of the palace. Both the eastern and western sides had much more picturesque views from the front — ornamental fences with cast iron gates overlaid with gold — but their backs were more military in appearance, fortified and intimidating, a strong contrast to the welcoming allure of the main entrances.
Caldon’s strides didn’t falter as he led Kiva straight to where a group of armed guards stood near a wall opening large enough to be used for deliveries and the movements of palace workers.
“Evening,” Caldon greeted the sentries.
“Prince Caldon, is everything all right?” a young female guard asked, noting his bloodied appearance.
“Never better,” he lied. “Can you send word to the search parties that they can return to the palace? Our little felon is safe and sound.”
Kiva not so subtly stomped on his foot.
The woman smiled coyly and offered a breathy, “At once, Your Highness.”
To Kiva’s shock, Caldon didn’t react to the invitation in the guard’s eyes, instead bidding the group a good night before tugging Kiva past them and up
the narrow gravel road toward the palace.
“I’m surprised you didn’t flirt with her,” Kiva couldn’t resist saying as they trudged along the path. Freestanding luminium beacons lit their way, the manicured gardens beyond looking like an enchanted parkland under the soft light of the moon.
“Careful, judgy,” Caldon said, swinging their hands like children, “or I’ll think you’re jealous.”
Grinning, Kiva shook her head and replied, “Keep dreaming, Your Highness.” There was no mistaking her mocking tone as she copied the guard’s breathy words.
Humor lit Caldon’s eyes. “I think my cousin underestimates you.”
That was exactly what Kiva was counting on.
And it was also something that made her insides roil unpleasantly.
Reaching the end of the path, Caldon guided Kiva into the western palace, a place she’d yet to set foot in, the residence of the king and queen.
They’d barely stepped through the back entrance before a servant appeared, bobbed into a curtsey, and informed Caldon that his aunt was waiting for
them in the River Room.
His aunt — Queen Ariana.
Nerves bubbled in Kiva’s stomach as Caldon shuffled her down a long hallway peppered with artwork that she barely paid any attention to, nor did she notice the gold finishing on the walls, the white marble floor, the sweeping staircases lined with red carpet. All of it she’d already seen in the eastern half of the palace, both sides equal in grandeur. Just as she’d already seen the River Room on the opposite side of the Serin. It was her favorite room, small enough to be intimate, but with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked straight out over the water and into the city beyond.
Upon arriving in the western River Room, Kiva saw it was identical to its eastern counterpart, right down to the elegant luminium chandelier dangling at the heart of the inviting space. The only difference was who sat on the comfortable plush lounge awaiting their arrival.
Kiva sucked in a breath at her first close look at Evalon’s ruling monarch.
With golden hair coifed perfectly atop her head and eyes like shining sapphires, there was no denying the queen’s beauty. But what brought Kiva up short was the look on Ariana’s face as she moved quickly toward them, the relief, the warmth, the kindness. Her expression radiated genuine concern as she took in the wound on Kiva’s head, the blood on Caldon’s clothes, and
she didn’t waste a second before asking a lingering servant to call for a healer. Only then did she reach out her hands — but not to her nephew.
Instead, she drew Kiva away from Caldon, giving her fingers a squeeze of comfort and saying, “I’m so glad you’re safe, Kiva. Please, come and sit. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through tonight.”
“What about me?” Caldon asked with fake affront. “Your favorite nephew is standing here, bleeding freely. Just in case you didn’t notice.”
“Favorite nephew?” Ariana arched a golden brow. “Who’s been lying to
you?”
Caldon laughed. “That’s just mean.”
The queen’s face gentled — even more, if that were possible. She released one of Kiva’s hands so she could touch Caldon’s cheek, heedless of the dried blood that speckled his flesh. “Thank you for finding her, darling.
As always, you make me proud.”
“That’s more like it,” Caldon said, satisfied.
Something was happening inside Kiva, something she didn’t understand.
None of this was what she had expected upon meeting the near mythical Ariana Vallentis. The Queen of Evalon was supposed to be haughty and cold, vicious and unforgiving. She was the face in Kiva’s nightmares, the person responsible for all of her family’s suffering.
But Ariana was nothing like what Kiva had imagined. Even with Jaren’s warning in the back of her mind, how his mother’s angeldust addiction had resulted in untold abuse over the years, none of that added up to the person standing before her with bare feet and kind eyes.
“I have hot cocoa on the way,” Ariana said, turning back to Kiva. “And we have fresh blueberry muffins already waiting.” Another squeeze of her soft hands. “Let’s get you off your feet and resting until the healer arrives to take a look at that nasty bump.”
Kiva moved stiffly as the queen led her deeper into the room, her mind struggling to comprehend Ariana’s reaction to their meeting. The queen knew exactly who Kiva was — and where she’d come from. Surely Ariana couldn’t be so accepting of an escaped criminal, even if Kiva had earned her freedom.
No monarch would want an ex-felon living in their home, and they definitely wouldn’t want one befriending their children, their heir. And yet . . . there was no mistaking how genuine the queen’s expression was as she smiled at Kiva before turning her attention to her nephew.
“Caldon, be a dear and try not to get blood on the lounge,” Ariana said
over her shoulder. “Last time the servants had to replace the upholstery, and I’m rather fond of this fabric.”
Caldon uttered a dry reply that Kiva didn’t hear, too numb to what was happening. That feeling only grew when she rounded the side of one couch to see Tipp curled up in a ball, snoring softly.
Ariana reached down to run her fingers through his glossy red hair, quietly telling Kiva, “The poor darling was so distressed that we had to give him a moradine tonic to keep him from joining the search parties. I couldn’t bear to move him, not until you’d had a chance to see him and know he was all right.”
Kiva’s heart clutched. She hated that Tipp had been so afraid for her, and was reluctantly grateful for the queen’s intervention. Moradine was a strong sedative, prompting a swift and dreamless sleep. The young boy would likely be out until morning.
Not wanting to disturb him, Kiva followed the queen toward a second lounge, where a tray of food was waiting. Her stomach rumbled as Ariana prepared a muffin for her, loading it with cream before handing it over.
Seeing the Queen of Evalon wait on her like a servant, Kiva’s mind blanked of thought, leaving her with nothing to do but raise the muffin to her mouth as Ariana began questioning Caldon about how he’d found her. They were interrupted partway through by the arrival of a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Kiva, dressed in the familiar white robe of a Silverthorn healer.
“Your Majesty,” she said, offering a respectful curtsey. Her pale skin had a rosy glow to it, and while her features were too sharp to be considered classically beautiful, her heart-shaped face, russet-colored eyes, and ashy blond hair pulled back into a messy bun were captivating enough to make Caldon watch her with keen interest.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Ariana said, standing and beckoning the healer closer. “I know it’s late.”
“A healer never sleeps,” the young woman said amicably, her smile lighting up the room. She glanced from Caldon to Kiva, before she made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Looks like we had too much fun at the festival.”
“Not enough fun, if you ask me,” Caldon said, leaning back and sending her a lazy grin full of promise. “But there’s plenty of night left.”
Kiva fought to control her gag reflex. She pulled a face at Caldon when
the healer opened her medical bag, causing his eyes to light with amusement.
“I’m Rhessinda Lorin,” the young woman said. Her gaze locked with Kiva’s as she added, “Friends call me Rhess.”
“Lovely to meet you, Rhess,” Caldon said, all but purring her name. Kiva wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan, her respect for the healer growing when she seemed oblivious to the prince’s attention and instead focused on pulling out her supplies.
“Who wants to go first?” Rhessinda asked.
“She does,” Caldon said, and Kiva didn’t have the energy to argue as the healer took the seat vacated by Ariana, who hovered but kept her distance so as to not smother them.
Rhessinda tipped Kiva’s face toward the light and prodded at the bump.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Kiva.”
“Age?”
“Seventeen.”
“What day is it?”
“Friday.”
“Favorite color?”
Rhessinda’s questions continued until she was satisfied, after which she withdrew a handheld luminium torch and shone it straight into Kiva’s eyes, causing her to hiss and jerk away.
“Ouch,” Rhess said. “That looked painful.”
Kiva shot her a look, and then transferred it to Caldon when he coughed, failing to hide his humor.
“You have a nasty concussion, but I don’t think we need to worry about anything more serious,” Rhessinda declared, dabbing on some aloeweed gel to help with the inflammation, her callused fingers scratching slightly against Kiva’s sensitive skin. “I’ll leave you something for the pain, so you should be feeling a lot better by morning. If your discomfort grows or you start to have problems with vision, balance, nausea, and the like, send word to Silverthorn.”
Kiva nodded her understanding, knowing enough about head injuries to not need — or want — further mollycoddling.
“Your turn,” Rhess said, relocating to sit beside Caldon. “Clothes off, if you please.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Caldon drawled, flexing his muscles as he
removed both his green jacket and white shirt, leaving him wearing only dark pants and a pair of boots.
Once again, his attempted seduction flew straight over Rhessinda’s head — as did his impressive body being on display — with her focus being solely on her task. Kiva leaned forward to look at his injury, distracted for a moment by the other scars lacing his torso, one in particular looking as if someone had tried very hard to gut him. But then she shifted her gaze to the fresh stab wound near his shoulder, the flesh around it puffy and red, the blood already clotted. Some disinfecting and a few stitches, and he would be fine.
Rhess reached the same conclusion, unstoppering a vial as she said, “This isn’t too bad.”
Kiva breathed easier at the confirmation, but then her attention was diverted by quick footsteps and low voices heralding the arrival of a small group of guards bursting through the doors to the River Room. In their lead was Jaren, the look of relief on his face when he caught sight of Kiva making her stomach flip in an undeniably pleasant way.
With long strides eating up the space between them, Jaren reached her just as she stood to greet him and drew her straight into his arms.
“I was so worried,” he whispered.
Kiva knew she should push him away, but try as she might, she simply couldn’t do it. Instead, she returned his embrace, wishing she felt repulsed or disgusted — anything other than protected and cherished.
“I’m all right,” she said quietly.
He leaned back enough to see her face, his gaze landing on her head wound, his expression tightening.
“It’s just a little bump,” she said quickly. “I can barely feel it.”
Caldon snorted, drawing Jaren’s eyes, and shared with brutal honesty, “It’s actually a concussion bad enough to make her pass out, puke her guts up, and struggle to stand on her own, with even the dimmest of lights causing her acute agony.” The prince shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “But, sure, it’s just a little bump.”
At the tension refilling Jaren’s body, Kiva hissed at Caldon, “Would you shut up? You’re not helping.”
Amusement flittered across Caldon’s face, but it turned into a wince when Rhess dabbed his wound with silverseed oil, a bitter antiseptic smell flooding the room.
“What happened to you?” Jaren asked his cousin.
With a sly look at Kiva, Caldon answered, “Your girlfriend stabbed me.”
Kiva flushed as everyone turned to her — the guards, the royals, and the healer. “It was an accident,” she said, ignoring the girlfriend remark entirely.
Frowning at Caldon, she warned, “But at this rate, the next time won’t be.”
The cocky prince grinned widely, and Jaren’s chuckle sounded in Kiva’s ear, prompting her to turn back and see the humor lighting his eyes.
Distance — she needed to put some distance between them. It was the only way she’d survive all that was coming.
Clearing her throat and stepping out of his arms, Kiva glanced over at the new arrivals. Naari was there, showing vivid relief at seeing Kiva safe.
Behind her stood a handful of Royal Guards and Captain Veris, the latter of whom Kiva had been introduced to during her first Trial at Zalindov, though in reality she’d met him ten years earlier. It was hard for her to look at him now, part of her fearing he might suddenly recognize her, and the other part unable to repress the memories of that horrific winter’s night when her life had changed forever.
“Well,” the queen said loudly, smiling benevolently at the guards. “What an evening we’ve all had. Thank you for your help in searching for our guest — we’re all very grateful.”
Her dismissal was kind but clear. In response, Veris gave a respectful dip of his head and ushered his troops back out the door. No doubt he would receive a full report later, but Kiva was thankful the queen was limiting her own involvement in that.
With the guards gone, Jaren, Naari, and Ariana waited for Rhessinda to leave before asking any questions. Sensing their impatience, the healer finished her sutures quickly and covered Caldon’s wound with a bandage, declaring her work done. On her way out of the room, she handed Kiva a small vial of poppymilk, warning her to awaken every few hours during the night and send for help if needed.
Alone with the royals and Naari — and the still-sleeping Tipp — Kiva had little choice but to share the events of her night, starting with how she’d been knocked unconscious in the middle of the festival crowd, leaving out the middle part with her siblings, and ending with Caldon’s rescue, the prince chiming in with his own details.
When she was done, her audience began debating what the rebels had sought to achieve with their abduction. Caldon offered some interesting —
and incorrect — theories, stating that it might not have been just rebels and claiming to be concerned by the presence of Mirravens during the final attack. Jaren then reminded him that the rebels were recruiting from other kingdoms, but Caldon remained unconvinced, looking to Kiva as if hoping she would jump in and agree with him. But all she could do was shrug and say that she’d been locked away for a decade, so she knew nothing about how
the rebels operated.
It wasn’t even a lie.
As their conversation continued, Kiva knew Zuleeka and Torell would want to hear thorough details, but the last few hours were swiftly catching up to her enough that she was having trouble keeping her eyes open.
The next thing she knew, gentle fingers were tracing her cheekbone, lulling her from her doze. She blinked awake to find Jaren crouching beside where she’d unconsciously curled up on the couch.
“Time for bed,” he whispered.
Kiva didn’t push him away when he helped her up to her feet, nor did she argue when he handed her the vial of poppymilk. She swallowed it in one go, knowing she’d have just enough time to return to the eastern side of the palace and fall into bed before it took effect.
“We’ll see each other again soon,” Queen Ariana told Kiva quietly, kissing her on the cheek.
Kiva was so groggy that she didn’t panic at the show of affection from her sworn enemy, instead mumbling, “Good night,” and watching blearily as Jaren gathered Tipp into his arms.
“Come on, Sunshine, let’s get you to your room before one of us has to carry you across the river,” Caldon said, nudging Kiva toward the door.
Barely able to walk in a straight line, Kiva paid little attention to what Caldon continued saying as he led the way through the palace halls toward the private bridge. But she did wake up just enough to hear him state, “And just in case you missed it earlier, I’m dragging you to the training yard at dawn to work on your nonexistent fighting skills. Next time you hold a blade, I don’t plan on becoming collateral damage.”
Anything he said after that was lost as the poppymilk took hold, the rest of the walk a blur, until Kiva finally collapsed onto her bed fully clothed and fell instantly back to sleep.
