“Ready,” Jaren told Naari. She didn’t bat an eyelash at the crown prince bearing their goods like a packhorse, having experienced years of him acting in a manner well beneath his station. The Z scar on his hand was proof of that — proof of his service to his people, the lengths he would go to in order to keep them safe.
Guilt bubbled in Kiva’s stomach, but she ignored it and followed Naari across the roof, continuing on past the decrepit doorway and heading instead to a stairway that led right down to the street. Kiva shot a look at Jaren, wondering why he hadn’t brought her up using the much more stable entry, but he studiously avoided eye contact.
You really need to learn to trust me, he’d told her earlier.
Kiva nearly snorted, realizing his intention had been to remind her that she was safe with him — always.
Not that she didn’t already know that.
“Let’s get a move on,” Naari urged, interrupting Kiva’s treacherous thoughts and hurrying them down into the alleyway. There was a dangerous feel to the air now, almost as if they were being watched, but Kiva’s concerns eased slightly as they approached the main thoroughfare, the lights and sounds of the festival growing with every step nearer to the river.
Naari cursed when they finally exited the side street to find swarms of people standing shoulder to shoulder, dancing, laughing, and singing along to the music. So much revelry — and all of it blocking the road, right up to the palace gates.
“I don’t like this,” the guard said, her lips pursed.
Kiva barely heard her over the raucous sounds of the street party.
“They’ll be at it until dawn,” Jaren pointed out, which didn’t improve Naari’s mood. “Unless you’re happy for us to stay out here all night —”
He quickly shut his mouth at the look she sent him.
“I’ll forge us a path. You three stay directly behind me,” Naari ordered, one hand tensing around the hilt of her blade, as if she intended to cut through anyone who got in their way. “No stopping, no looking around. Straight to the gates.”
She waited until she had Tipp’s attention, since he was staring at the chaos with wide, longing eyes. When he finally realized what she wanted, he uttered his reluctant agreement.
Stepping into the masses, Naari was swallowed in an instant, but Kiva gave Tipp a hearty push to keep him close behind the guard. Jaren nudged Kiva forward so that he could take up the rear — something Naari wouldn’t like, but Jaren had been right earlier: no one seemed to care that the crown prince was in their midst. To the festivalgoers, they were just four citizens trying to carve a path.
When they were halfway to the palace, the music shifted and an emphatic cry rose up around them, the stamping of feet followed by the jumping of sweaty bodies shaking the ground. Kiva couldn’t hear anything over the delighted shrieks, and could barely make out the figure of Naari being engulfed by the swelling crowd. Somewhere along the line, Jaren had abandoned the hamper and blanket, instead keeping both hands free to hold on to Kiva and clear a path for her, much like she was trying to do for Tipp.
Another almighty cry sounded, and the jumping increased, bodies ramming into them from all angles. Claustrophobia clawed at Kiva as a wayward carouser shoved her hard to the side, ripping her fingers from Tipp. She stumbled violently, only managing to stay upright because of Jaren’s firm grip on her. Even so, the two of them slammed into a group of people, all of whom were too lost in the revelry to care.
One quick glance up was all it took for Kiva to realize that she could still see Naari — but she couldn’t see Tipp.
Her claustrophobia instantly forgotten, Kiva yelled his name over the music, Jaren doing the same by her ear. They surged forward together, their urgency growing when they caught sight of the young boy on the ground, struggling to rise.
“He’ll be trampled!” Kiva cried, her heart lodging in her throat.
She’d barely finished the words when Jaren pushed past her and shoved his way through the suffocating masses, reaching Tipp at the same time as Naari, the two of them hauling the boy up to his feet.
Someone bumped into Kiva from behind, a hand latching on to her arm and stopping her from joining her friends. She tried to free herself, but the grip tightened, yanking her roughly backwards. The space around her was so tightly packed that she couldn’t turn to see who held her, her panic growing for a different reason now. She could just make out Jaren and Naari checking Tipp for injuries, feeling a momentary relief when it appeared he was unharmed, but then the hand gripping her gave another vicious tug, trapping her against a hard body. She struggled anew, but before she could so much as scream, a cloth was shoved over her face, the pungent smells of whitlock and tamadrin making her eyes water. Knowing that a deep enough inhalation would render her unconscious, she held her breath and fought harder, willing Jaren or Naari to turn her way.