Kiva deliberately stood on his foot and smiled sweetly as she replied, “I’m so pleased to be of service.”
The prince hummed an amused sound, spinning her away, then back into his arms. “I’ve been looking for your brother and sister.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Mostly your brother. But no sign of them yet.”
Kiva’s stomach tumbled. “Tor’s not coming.”
Caldon’s brows rose above his golden mask. “Oh?”
Weighing her response, Kiva realized that if there was one person she could tell about her abduction — without having to lie about how she’d escaped — it was Caldon. And at least someone at the palace would know Mirraven had attempted to trap Jaren. But that wasn’t the only reason Kiva decided to share.
She quickly — and quietly — summarized her day, before finishing with, “So I could really use your help. With Tipp. Maybe if you come with me tomorrow, you can be there when I explain?”
Caldon had cursed multiple times during her tale, but none so creatively as when she’d shared about Tipp learning who she was.
“I don’t know which part worries me the most,” Caldon murmured, guiding her around another dancing couple. He didn’t answer her question, instead saying, “I’ll have Veris double the city patrols to make sure there are no more Mirravens lying in wait, but you need to push your sister for details about the bargain your mother made with Navok.”
Kiva nodded. “I will. But right now, Tipp takes priority for me. So will you help?”
Caldon led her into another spin. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but yeah, I’ll come with you.”
Kiva wilted with relief. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure he’s safe wherever he is tonight? I don’t like that —”
“I know, I hate it too,” Kiva interrupted, chewing her lip. “But Rhess promised to watch over him.”
Caldon looked skeptical now that he knew the truth about the other girl, but despite Rhessinda’s treachery, Kiva trusted her, especially having witnessed how deeply she cared for Torell.
“I’ll help you cover for his absence tonight,” Caldon offered. “But if things don’t work out the way you want tomorrow, you’re going to have to make some tough decisions, Sunshine.”
Kiva blew out a breath and looked away. “I know.”
Caldon moved their joined hands to tip her chin up, meeting her gaze. “Speaking of tough decisions, I’m really proud of you for telling Zuleeka you’re done with them. That can’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t.” And yet Kiva recalled how understanding her sister had been, with no hint of anger, no sign of judgment. It was enough for her to wonder if maybe Zuleeka felt a little like Torell, at least deep down.
Or perhaps she simply realized that after a decade in prison, Kiva deserved to make her own choices.
Marveling at the thought, Kiva moved into one final spin as the music came to a close, and then, barely a second after they stopped, Jaren materialized at their sides, eliciting a huff of amusement from his cousin.
“It was touch and go,” Caldon said, his voice grave, “but she survived being parted from you for a whole seven minutes.”
Jaren ignored him and reached for Kiva, linking their hands and leading her off the dance floor.
“Don’t mind me!” Caldon called after them. “I’m fine by myself!”
At first, Kiva thought Jaren might have been taking her to his family, but a quick glance revealed he’d been successful in convincing them to leave. Mirryn hadn’t yet arrived, so they weren’t heading toward her, nor were they en route to the gilded refreshments table. Instead, Jaren was guiding her around masked men and women, many of whom called greetings, all of whom looked at Kiva in unabashed curiosity, and none of whom Jaren paused for, his attention wholly focused on their destination.
That being, to leave the ballroom.
“Where are we going?” Kiva asked as they stepped through the ornate doors into the hallway and then ascended the nearest red-carpeted staircase.
“Somewhere quiet.”
The two words had Kiva’s heart giving a leap, which turned into multiple leaps when she realized they were approaching the River Room.
The very empty River Room.
Situated directly above the ballroom, the music filtered through the walls, but there were no crowds of people, no prying eyes or lingering looks. The luminium chandelier cast a golden glow over the room, the candle-dotted Serin stretched out beyond the windows, the space nothing short of romantic, especially when, with a wave of Jaren’s hand, mist tickled at their ankles and floating specks of light burst into being, a perfect recreation of the ballroom — just smaller, more intimate. And for the two of them alone.