Kiva tightened the towel she’d wrapped around herself upon leaving her bath. “Please, let yourself in,” she invited dryly. “It’s not like I’d want my privacy or anything.”
“You haven’t had privacy in a decade,” Mirryn said without a hint of compassion, taking a seat on Kiva’s bed. “You can deal with a few more minutes.”
Those few minutes became considerably longer when Mirryn declared herself Kiva’s stylist for the day, demanding she try on outfit after outfit until she found the perfect combination to wear to lunch.
At any other time, Kiva would have asked the princess to leave, but with butterflies somersaulting in her stomach and the familiar comfort of her magic gone — something Kiva hadn’t appreciated until it was no longer there — she was oddly grateful for Mirryn’s ceaseless prattle.
The princess was in one of her better moods, reclining on Kiva’s bed and sharing how the plans for her birthday masquerade were coming together, with it now only three days away. All too soon she cut herself off by declaring it was time for lunch, asking Kiva if she wanted to meet her siblings out in front of the palace or wait for them in the River Room, where a table had been set up.
Kiva didn’t like either option, but Mirryn chose for her, dragging her outside so they could wait alongside Jaren, Caldon, Tipp, and Naari.
If there was one good thing about that morning, it was that the king and queen had been called away to celebrate the opening of a bridge deeper in the city. Prince Oriel had gone with them, begging for Tipp to join them, but the redheaded boy had chosen to stay and meet Kiva’s family.
“You look like you’re going to throw up,” Caldon commented from Kiva’s side. “Or pass out. I can’t tell which.”
“Could be either,” Kiva muttered, causing him to chuckle. “Maybe both.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he told her in an uncommon show of comfort, nudging her in the ribs. “And if it’s not, then it’s not. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Kiva nearly started hyperventilating at the thought. She looked across to Jaren, longing for his steadying presence, but he’d been distant all day — not cold, but more like he was stuck in his own head. She wondered if it was because he’d been caught — and likely yelled at — by Naari last night, but she had a feeling it was more than that. He was normally so attuned to her, but today he didn’t sense her need for reassurance. Instead, his eyes were glued to the front gates, his face almost hard as he watched two figures approaching on horseback.
Oh, gods, Kiva thought, clenching her hands. Here we go.
In what felt like seconds, Torell and Zuleeka came to a halt before them, dismounting and handing their reins to the waiting grooms. Both siblings were dressed in simple clothes, Tor wearing dark pants and a forest green shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, Zuleeka in leggings and a modest tunic dress, no sign of a weapon on either of them. Or a mask.
They weren’t the Viper and the Jackal today.
But they also very much were.
Kiva walked forward on quaking legs, forced a welcoming grin onto her face, and channelled Tipp’s over-the-top excitement to exclaim, “I’m so glad you could make it!”
Tor returned her grin, his eyes sparkling with barely suppressed humor as he pulled her into a hug.
“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered, unknowingly repeating Caldon’s words. “Take a breath and calm down.”
She followed his order, feeling only marginally better when she stepped back.
“Hello again, little sister,” Zuleeka said, her expression filled with so much warmth that Kiva blinked in shock, a feeling that only grew when she was drawn into a deep embrace.
Zuleeka was hugging her.
For the first time in ten years.
Startled as she was, Kiva wrapped her arms around her sister, tears prickling her eyes as she recalled what Zuleeka had said when they’d last parted.
I’ll try harder. I promise I will.
Kiva wasn’t oblivious — she knew Zuleeka was playing a role for the royals, acting like the doting sister. But the warmth on her face, the tightness of her hug — that felt genuine. Zuleeka was trying, just as she’d promised. They would both need time to heal from their rocky start, but there was suddenly so much hope inside Kiva that her queasy sense of dread began to fade.
Even so, that didn’t stop her from whispering into her sister’s ear, “I was there last night. You have a lot of explaining to do later.”