“You’re lucky the prince cares so much for you,” Zuleeka mused. “This is some gift.”
“Hopefully I’ll never need it again,” Kiva said.
Tor cocked his head. “I thought you said Jaren gave it to you after the attack?”
“He did,” Kiva confirmed. “But he also gave it to me in Zalindov — well, technically it was Mirryn who gave it to me — and it saved me from the fire Ordeal. Without it, I would have been turned to ash.”
Her brother’s face paled, but Zuleeka just continued staring pensively at the amulet until Kiva tucked it back beneath her sweater. Only then did Zuleeka shake off her thoughts and say, “We shouldn’t linger here for much longer. But with everything else that happened yesterday, we didn’t get to ask — how did you go with Nanna Delora? Your note implied she helped you?”
“You’re right about her — she doesn’t like us very much,” Kiva said. “I’m pretty sure she thought I was there to steal Torvin’s dagger — at least until I convinced her otherwise.” She turned to her brother and added, “She’s using it as her apothecary’s blade, just like you guessed.”
Tor snorted. “Figures.”
“She showed it to you?” Zuleeka asked, stunned. “I thought it was hidden.”
“It is hidden,” Kiva confirmed. “She keeps it in a hollowed black book called 1,001 Pies and Pastries. And she didn’t show it to me in the sense of gloating about it — she used it to make a potion, something to suppress my magic.”
“So she was able to help?” Torell said, relief filling his features. Zuleeka’s, too. “That’s great, Mouse.”
“It’s not permanent,” Kiva warned. “She only gave me enough to last until tomorrow. I have to go back to get some more.”
“You’re seeing Delora again tomorrow?” Zuleeka asked.
Since Kiva had just said that, she only nodded in confirmation.
“I know this is a big ask,” Zuleeka said, “but I’ve been thinking about this since we last talked about it and, well . . .” She took a breath. “Do you think you can try to bring the dagger back with you?”
A short, incredulous laugh left Kiva. “Uh, no. If I show even a hint of interest in that blade, Delora will toss me from her cottage.”
Probably into the swamp.
With Mr. Chomps.
Kiva shuddered.
“It’s just . . .” Zuleeka brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I told you that the rebels recognize it as a symbol of Torvin’s reign, and we all know how powerful symbols are. With Mother now gone” — her words caught slightly — “having it in our possession will help boost their confidence in us as their new leaders. The Corentine Dagger returned to its rightful heirs.”
Kiva saw the validity of what Zuleeka was saying, but she still argued, “If Delora refused to give it to Mother, why would she give it to me?”
“She’s a cranky old bat who’s holding on to that blade out of spite because she hates our bloodline, and yet, for some reason she’s helping you,” Zuleeka said. “That must mean she likes you, at least a little.” She then begged, “It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?”
Kiva thought of Mr. Chomps again and winced. But then she relented, “I can’t promise anything, but if Delora’s in a good mood, I’ll see what I can do.”
Zuleeka smiled. “Thank you.”
Looking at the brightness radiating from her, Kiva found herself wishing Zuleeka would act like this more often. This was the sister she remembered from her childhood, the girl who had feelings and cared about things, not the hardened commander of the rebels. Perhaps there really was hope for them yet.
“We need to go,” Torell said, peering in the direction of the water. “The dockworkers change shifts soon, and someone might see us if we wait around too long.”
Zuleeka glanced at Kiva. “Do you feel safe getting back to the palace on your own?”
Despite having grumbled earlier about the likelihood of being murdered, Kiva answered, “I’ll be fine.”
Zuleeka nodded, then informed her, “We’ll set up a meeting with the other rebel leaders to talk about our next steps. It might take some time — the camps are scattered all across the kingdom, and this is the kind of conversation we’ll need to have in person.”
“You have more than one camp?” Kiva asked, surprised.