Zuleeka had stabbed him with the Eye of the Gods.
When Jaren woke, his magic would be gone.
Kiva had done that to him.
She might have saved his life, but she was the reason he’d lost his magic.
And soon, his entire kingdom.
He would never forgive her.
She would never forgive herself.
“You need to run.”
The dead-sounding voice came from Caldon.
Kiva turned woodenly to him, finding his eyes locked on Jaren’s chest.
“He’s going to be all right,” she croaked, just in case Caldon didn’t realize.
“You need to run,” he repeated, his cobalt eyes darkening to ink. “Before he wakes. Before she wakes.” He nodded to Naari.
“I didn’t know,” Kiva rasped, needing him to believe her. “I swear I didn’t —”
“Don’t,” he said, whip-sharp, holding a hand to his bleeding head. “Not right now. I need to — I need to think. And you need to leave before they toss you in the dungeons. Or kill you outright.”
Kiva swallowed, more tears flooding her eyes.
“Cal —”
“Run, damn it!” he roared.
Seeing the raw pain in his features, the grief, the heartache — for her — Kiva staggered to her feet.
And then, with only a single look back — just enough for one final glimpse of Jaren’s pale, unconscious face, committing every line of it to memory — she bolted from the room.
Faster and faster Kiva flew through the palace halls, her golden dress bloodied and torn, tears streaking her cheeks, but she didn’t stop, even as waves of exhaustion and grief pummeled her, as dizziness threatened to topple her.
She had to keep going.
Because as soon as Jaren woke and realized what had happened, what he’d lost, what she’d done —
Kiva had to keep going.
Torell — she had to find Torell. He might have been the rebels’ general, but Kiva knew deep down that he’d had no knowledge of Zuleeka’s true plans — or her death magic. Once she explained, he would help her. Some way, somehow, he would —
“Going somewhere?”
Kiva came to a screeching halt in the entrance hall, mere steps from the front doors.
She spun in place, nearly collapsing with relief at the sight of Mirryn standing there, her ice blue gown and mask perfect, not a hair out of place.
“Mirry,” Kiva gasped, reaching out as if to prove she was real, that she was safe.
“Sorry about this,” the princess said nonsensically. “It’s nothing personal.”
Before Kiva could question the warning, two bursts of air slammed into the sides of her head, the pressure like twin daggers stabbing her eardrums.
Sheer, inconceivable agony had her screaming out, the pain unlike anything she’d ever known . . . until it became too much, and everything faded to black.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kiva awoke in a cell.
Panic hit her, raw and hard, and she jumped to her feet, a hand flying to her aching head. But her pain was secondary to her fear, her eyes struggling to see in the limited light. Disoriented as she was, for one petrifying second she wondered if she was back in the Abyss, before her wits returned. It took weeks to travel to Zalindov from Vallenia — she was still at the palace.
In the dungeons.
Trembling all over, Kiva approached the iron bars blocking her escape, wrapping her hands around them and giving a useless tug.
“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing down the shadowy passage. “Is anyone there?”
Footsteps sounded in the distance, heels clacking on stone. Kiva expected a guard to appear, but instead she found herself face-to-face with Mirryn, her appearance just as perfect as before, not a scratch or tear or anything to indicate she’d been in a struggle.
Kiva’s hands shook on the bars, her voice barely a whisper as she said, “Zuleeka never abducted you, did she?”
The princess held her eyes. “She didn’t need to.”
Four words, and Kiva’s world crumbled.
“Your sister and I have been allies for some time,” Mirryn revealed, smoothing the front of her dress. “We realized we both have the same goals, and that we’d reach them faster if we worked together.”
Mirryn was Zuleeka’s spy in the palace, Kiva suddenly understood. The one who had told Zuleeka about Jaren’s magic, and gods knew what else. She’d betrayed her own family, had helped orchestrate everything that had happened tonight.
Afraid of the answer, Kiva asked, “What goals?”