“You told me the Eye is the reason I don’t have to worry,” Kiva managed through numb lips. “Nothing you’ve just said makes me feel any better.”
Jaren chuckled. He actually chuckled. “Breathe, Kiva,” he said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “The reason you don’t have to worry is because the Eye is almost impossible for anyone to steal. We keep it —”
“Don’t tell me,” Kiva blurted.
Jaren shook his head indulgently at her, even more amused, and said, “I told you I trust you. And besides, my sharing where it is won’t cause any harm. You’d literally have to get through an entire army to steal it.”
Kiva blinked, not following.
“The Eye travels with the current general of Evalon’s armies,” Jaren revealed. “Right now, Ashlyn has it, hundreds of miles north of here. Not only does she have powerful wind and earth magic protecting it, but any thieves would need a force large enough to overcome our significant military numbers — and therefore, they’d already have a force large enough to conquer Evalon without needing the Ternary at all.” He paused, making sure she was paying close attention, as he finished, “The rebels don’t have that kind of force. And if they ever came close, we’d take other precautions.”
Slowly, the tightness within Kiva began to ease.
“Mirraven and Caramor, on the other hand,” Jaren said, his tone conversational but his face hardening, “their alliance is a concern, since they do have those kinds of numbers, collectively. But even if they knew the true value of the Eye — which they don’t — they wouldn’t care. They’re not after a legitimate means to take Evalon. They wouldn’t bother with the Royal Ternary — they’d just use their armies to take over.” He squeezed her hand again, perhaps feeling the return of her tension. “But that’s not going to happen. We’re watching the mountain passes closely, and we have all the advantages on our side. They can’t beat us. Mirraven, Caramor — and definitely not the rebels. None of them pose a true threat to Evalon, and Royal Ternary or not, they never will.”
Kiva didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Jaren had just told her how to take his throne — and also revealed that it was all but impossible.
Relief and devastation warred within her.
. . . But relief won.
Releasing a long, shaky breath, Kiva said, “So this clause says someone has to have all three objects? Not one or two, but all of them? And that’s the only way they can be considered true rulers?”
“All three,” Jaren confirmed, smiling at whatever he saw on her face. “So you can relax. The Eye is well protected and the Book and the Signet are kept safe here at the palace. The Royal Ternary clause can’t be enacted without all three.”
“And there’s no other way for someone to take power, outside of bloodshed?” Kiva pressed.
Jaren laughed quietly. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re planning to overthrow me yourself.”
Kiva forced out her own breathy laugh, aware of how desperate she was sounding. “Sorry,” she said. “I just —”
“I understand,” he cut in gently. “You’re worried. But I hope you now realize you don’t have to be.”
She did realize that, just as she realized that ten years of her life had been dedicated to a cause that had no chance of succeeding. Even if the rebels one day outmanned the royal armies, the Evalonian people wouldn’t abide a bloody transfer of power. Unless the rebels survived the warfare and were then able to steal the Eye from the magic-wielding general — doubtful, if Ashlyn Vallentis was anything like her family — then without the Royal Ternary clause making them stand down, the citizens of Evalon would fight back.
Kiva, however, had a feeling that the rebels might not care about that, especially with Zuleeka as their commander. As their future queen.
Wars aren’t won without sacrifice, little sister.
“Come on,” Jaren said, breaking into her uneasy thoughts. “While we’re here, let me give you a proper tour.”
And so Kiva followed the crown prince around the magnificent library, mulling over everything he had shared . . . and having no idea how to feel about it.
When Kiva returned to her room later that night, there was a note waiting on her bed. Her muscles clenched when she recognized her sister’s familiar handwriting, the coded words offering an address and a time, after which was a roughly drawn map with clear directions — the latter two hastily added in Torell’s penmanship.