“Because I couldn’t help worrying about something happening to you. To your family.” She pushed the words out fast, as if doing so would make it easier.
A startled sound of humor left Jaren. “What?”
Committed now, Kiva explained, “I know you’re not worried about the rebels at the moment. But —” She made herself look at him with fear in her eyes. “But they abducted me, Jaren. And that means they’re still conspiring. What if they’ve found a way to hurt you?”
Eyebrows rising, Jaren asked, with clear incredulity, “You’re worried about the rebels?”
His sentiment was genuine, despite having been attacked by rebels himself only two nights earlier.
“If they try to take the throne —” Kiva said, but she was cut off when another startled laugh left him.
“Let me stop you there.” He cupped her face, his voice gentling. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Kiva. I promise you. As much of an annoyance as they are, they’ll never have the numbers required to take the kingdom by force. And even if they did, our citizens would never accept a ruler who spilled so much innocent blood.”
“But what if they’ve found another way?” Kiva asked, keeping an anxious furrow on her brow. “What if they know of something lawful that forces you to abdicate and the people to accept them?” Swallowing back bile, she made herself add, “If they have a Corentine heir among them, they’d have a valid claim, wouldn’t they?”
“Firstly, that’s unconfirmed,” Jaren said.
“But you believe it’s true,” Kiva pressed.
He acknowledged her point and continued, “And secondly, you’re right. There is a way they could, theoretically, be willfully accepted by the people.”
Kiva’s heart stopped in her chest.
“But when I say ‘theoretically,’” he went on, “the chance of it happening is so slim — impossible, really — that it’s not even worth thinking about.”
Barely able to push sound through her lips, Kiva asked, “How can you be sure?”
Jaren was silent for a long minute, just looking at her. She didn’t have to try to school her face, dread filling it without any effort at all.
“You really are concerned about this, aren’t you?” Jaren finally murmured, his hand shifting around to the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her skin in comfort.
“You have no idea how much,” Kiva answered, speaking true.
He gave her one more comforting stroke before trailing his hand down her arm until their fingers tangled once more.
“Come with me,” he told her quietly. “I want to show you something.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jaren led Kiva to the less familiar western palace, guiding her through the halls until they came to a set of large gilded doors that opened into a library so magnificent that Kiva spent a full minute turning in a circle with her mouth open.
As with the rest of the palace, the library was colored gold and white, but here the walls were made of bookshelves that rose at least three floors high, with spiraling ladders between them and balconies on each level, all looking down to the open floor that was sparse but for the numerous comfortable reading chairs. In the center of it all and stretching up to the muraled ceiling sat a massive, twisting trunk of a pale oak tree, like an ancient guardian watching over the tomes.
“I take it you haven’t been in here before?” Jaren said, mirth filling his tone at Kiva’s reaction.
She could only shake her head, awed into silence.
Jaren chuckled softly, then led her deeper into the open space, toward the base of the leafless oak tree. “At the risk of you never leaving, there’s an entire section on the second floor dedicated to herbal lore and the healing arts. Silverthorn residents often make requests if their own library falls short on a specific subject.”
Kiva longed to run straight up the nearest spiraling staircase and bury herself in what could only be the rarest of books, but she shook off her wondrous daze and asked, “Why did you bring me here?”
“To show you this.” Jaren stopped before the tree trunk and indicated a small shelf that had been cut into the wood. On it lay a single book, the leather aged, the pages discolored and frail, and yet given how old it was — and what it was — it was remarkably well preserved. By magic, no doubt.
“Is this what I think it is?” Kiva whispered reverently as she read the title.
“The Book of the Law,” Jaren confirmed, opening the cover and flipping through the ancient pages. His serious eyes locked with Kiva’s. “No one other than my mother and the Royal Council knows what I’m about to tell you. The ruling monarch, their chosen heir, and Evalon’s supreme governors — that’s how it’s been since Sarana Vallentis sat on the throne and created the laws which we uphold to this day.” He tapped a finger against the book. “My father doesn’t even know, nor do Mirry or Cal or Ori or anyone else. Just Mother, the council, and me. I need you to understand what I’m saying.”