Though his words were full of praise, there was something in his eyes that Kiva couldn’t identify. It wasn’t judgment or suspicion or anything remotely similar to how Zuleeka had looked at her. But something about it tugged at Kiva, almost like she was looking into a mirror. Before she could examine it further, Torell blinked and it was gone.
Another three knocks came from above their heads, followed by one more a moment later.
“Time to go,” Zuleeka said, before pointing a finger at Kiva. “Get back in the chair.”
Kiva looked at the chair and back to her sister. “Pardon?”
Zuleeka collected the ropes Torell had cut, giving a low whistle. One of the men guarding the door entered the room and took them from her, handing over a fresh set before leaving again.
“Back in the chair,” Zuleeka repeated her order. “You were abducted, remember? You have a role to play, so put on your acting boots.”
“I —” Kiva didn’t know what to say. She’d planned to travel to Oakhollow in search of her siblings the next day, but now there was no need. Zuleeka and Torell were standing before her, the three of them finally reunited. She had so many questions for them, so many things they needed to discuss, which was why she croaked out a confused, “Aren’t I coming with you?”
Zuleeka snorted. “You can hardly spy on your prince from the rebel camp.”
Kiva stilled.
Dark eyebrows rose as Zuleeka said, “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. We have people inside the palace already, but Deverick — sorry, Jaren — has bigger trust issues than I do. There are things he doesn’t even share with the Royal Council, with his family, or so my sources claim. But you have his ear. You can get to him in a way no one else can, learn things about him, about his plans, about where he’s most vulnerable. You can learn his secrets.” She paused before finishing, “And then we can use them against him.”
Schooling her expression, Kiva said nothing. Jaren did trust her — and because of that, she already knew some of his greatest secrets. But for some reason, she held back on revealing anything. Now wasn’t the time, she told herself, almost convincingly.
“I hate to say it, but I agree with Zulee,” Torell said. “For now, you need to stay here. It’s safer for you this way, with them believing you were taken against your will.”
His gaze flicked to the bruise on her face, then traveled to the chafed and splintered skin around her wrists, his lips pressing together when he realized she wouldn’t have to lie to convince anyone.
Unlike Zuleeka, Tor didn’t say more about her spying, nor did he imply that she was only as useful as the information she gleaned. Instead, he wrapped her in another quick hug and whispered, “I’ll see you again soon. Promise.”
Stepping away, he pulled what appeared to be a silver mask from inside his cloak. Kiva didn’t get a good look at it before he turned to Zuleeka and said, “I’ll make sure our exit is clear. You finish up here — gently — then meet me in the alley. Be ready to run.”
Zuleeka gave a short nod, and Torell took off after one final glance at Kiva, silently reassuring her that he would keep his promise.
“Sit,” Zuleeka ordered Kiva, and this time she did as she was told. With hurried motions, Zuleeka bound her with the fresh ropes and pulled the gag up until it covered her mouth once more.
More knocks sounded above them, conveying enough urgency that even Kiva understood her sister would risk discovery by staying any longer.
“Tor doesn’t know this, but I’ve ordered a handful of our people to stay behind, just enough to put up a believable fight,” Zuleeka said. She tilted her head to the side and finished, “I’m sorry about this. He told me to be gentle, but this part needs to be believable, too.”
Kiva’s eyes scrunched with confusion, but then they widened with alarm when her sister unsheathed a dagger and, with no further warning, slammed the pommel into the side of her already injured face. Pain burst anew . . . and then she succumbed to darkness once more.
CHAPTER FOUR
Clashing steel and heavy thumps from the hallway met Kiva’s ears as she slowly returned to consciousness. She uttered a quiet whimper, her sister’s parting gift feeling like a blade had pierced straight through her brain.
Nausea turned her stomach as the grimy room spun around her, the sensation easing only slightly by the time another loud thump came from just beyond the doorway, right before a figure rushed through it.
“Gods, Sweet Cheeks, you’re a mess.”