Delora’s face was set. “I told you, it’s not a permanent solution. You need to learn to control your magic. That’s the only way you can be sure to use it in the right way, by actively choosing to do so. You can’t keep on repressing it — that’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”
“But —” Kiva flailed, desperate. “You’ve repressed yours. You told me so when we first met.”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
“You said you don’t take the potion, but you don’t practice, either. So there must be some way you keep from —”
Delora laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “You really don’t know, do you?”
Kiva threw out her arms, wincing when one went straight through a large spiderweb. “Know what?”
Delora laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “If she didn’t tell you, I’m certainly not going to.” She jabbed her cane toward Kiva’s horse. “You need to leave. There’s nothing for you here.”
Turning on her heel, she began hobbling slowly toward her open door.
“Wait!” Kiva cried, causing her grandmother to pause and look back over her shoulder. In a hoarse, defeated voice, she continued, “At least give me the stupid dagger. You clearly have no desire to be associated with our bloodline, and if what you’ve shared is true, I don’t blame you. But Torvin’s dagger is important to the rebels, and Zuleeka would like —”
Kiva cut off when Delora threw back her head and howled. “Torvin’s dagger? Is that what the she-devil calls it?”
Uncertain now, Kiva said, “She said it’s a family heirloom.”
“Well, she’s not wrong about that,” Delora said dryly, before laughing all over again. But then she sobered, her voice unyielding as she stated, “I’d rather die than see that dagger in your sister’s hands. You can tell her that from me.”
And then Delora stepped through her door, slamming it behind her without another word.
Tears sprang to Kiva’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. There was no point — they wouldn’t convince her grandmother to make more potion. But that didn’t mean Kiva was out of options. She’d seen some of the ingredients on Delora’s bench, and she still had a few drops left in her vial, enough to confirm the others by scent alone. She would figure out how to make the damned stuff herself.
Stomping with determination back to her horse, she remounted and tore off along the swampy path. She refused to think about everything Delora had said, their supposed family history too awful for her to dwell on. Right now, her focus had to be on making sure she stayed in control of her magic. Silverthorn would help her — she knew her way to the apothecaries’ garden now. All she needed to do was snatch her vial from the palace and then get to work.
Lost in her righteous anger — and trying desperately to suppress her growing despair — Kiva nearly rode straight to the palace stables, having forgotten that her mount belonged to the academy and she still had a cover to maintain. Changing directions, she quickly returned her horse, giving the mare a grateful pat and handing her reins to the stableboy.
“That was quick,” he said.
“As promised.” Kiva summoned a smile she didn’t feel, thanked him for his help, and turned to leave.
She made it back to the palace in record time, intending to duck straight back out again with the vial. But the moment she stepped into her sitting room, she came to a jarring halt at the sight of who awaited her.
The entire Vallentis family, minus Oriel but including the sickly looking king, stood in the room, along with Naari and Captain Veris, all of whom, upon Kiva’s entry, turned to her, their tension palpable.
The blood drained from Kiva’s face.
Did they know?
Did they know?
But a quick glance at Caldon revealed him offering the slightest of head shakes, indicating her secret was still safe.
She felt little relief, since something was clearly wrong, and she swallowed against her suddenly dry throat to ask, “Has something happened?”
“Where were you today, Kiva?” King Stellan asked. His features were pallid, but his voice was full of steel.
Wondering if they knew she’d snuck out of the city again, Kiva hedged, “I — I went to see my friend at Silverthorn. The healer who came to the palace that night to treat me after — after —”
“It’s all right, Kiva, please be at ease,” Ariana said, walking over and taking Kiva’s hands. Despite her kind words, there was still a strained air about her. But rather than question it, Kiva focused on compartmentalizing her memories of the last time she’d seen the queen — when Ariana had attacked her — in order to keep from ripping her hands away.