“Why would Mother make that promise if she wanted the kingdom for us?” Kiva asked, confused.
“Her anger was enough that she would’ve been happy just to unseat the Vallentis family, even if she couldn’t take the throne from them herself,” Zuleeka said. “When she left us to make the deal with Mirraven, she’d been working for years with little to show for it, and she was becoming sick enough that she knew she had to make a choice. She decided that allying with Navok would be the fastest way to get vengeance. But despite that, she still did everything she could to make sure there would be a Corentine ruling by his side.”
It took a moment for Kiva to understand, but when she did, she gasped aloud. “Are you saying — are you marrying King Navok? Was that part of the deal?”
Zuleeka’s hands clenched into fists, the only indication of how she felt about the arrangement. But all she said was, “Mother didn’t know about the Royal Ternary — she didn’t know there might be another legitimate way. Even with it, there could still be problems, so Mirraven’s forces will guarantee the citizens of Evalon fall into line. The armies, too. Either way, a Corentine will be on the throne. That’s what matters.”
The backup plan Princess Mirryn had mentioned — it was Mirraven.
Gods. Gods.
Jaren had been right all those nights ago when he’d shared his concerns about the northern kingdoms.
But he’d been wrong to underestimate the rebels.
“Does Tor know about this?”
Zuleeka barked out a laugh. “What do you think?” She shook her head, then looked down before quietly admitting, “I felt awful about stabbing him today, but I couldn’t risk him getting in the way — I knew he’d try to stop me if he figured out what I was planning tonight. I’ve known for some time that his loyalty has been wavering. And much more so since you returned.”
Kiva gaped at her sister. “You stabbed him? But I saw —”
Arms, legs, three bodies tangled. That was all Kiva had seen, no proof of who had plunged the Mirraven’s sword into her brother.
“I had to make it look real,” Zuleeka stated, stepping back and reaching into her cloak. “And I knew you’d be able to heal him. The only question will be what he remembers when he wakes, but I’ll deal with that in the morning. You, however, won’t know for some time how all this plays out.”
“What do you —”
Before Kiva could finish, Zuleeka blew a handful of golden dust into her face. She coughed and spluttered as a rich caramelly taste overwhelmed her senses.
Along with absolute, blinding dread.
Angeldust.
The highly addictive drug was all over her, had gone straight down her nose and into her opened mouth.
“What the hell, Zul —”
“You took Mother from me,” Zuleeka interrupted, her face hard. “In ways you don’t even know about. Ways you’ll never understand. She always believed in you so much more than me. The golden child, she called you. So much power, she said. So much potential. But look at you — you’re nothing.”
Zuleeka made a scoffing sound, but Kiva was beginning to have trouble focusing around the quick-acting drug, fighting to comprehend her sister’s anger. Fighting to comprehend anything.
“You took everything from me,” Zuleeka hissed. “And now I’m taking it from you.”
“I don’t —” Kiva tried to say, but the words mashed together before leaving her lips.
Zuleeka waved the pouch of golden powder in the air, her voice much calmer as she said, “Consider this a gift for all your help. The last gift you’ll ever receive from me. That, and this.”
With her vision moving in and out of focus, Kiva watched as Zuleeka removed the amulet from beneath her gown, reaching through the bars to slip the chain over Kiva’s neck.
“The last of its protective power faded when I went to get the Signet from the queen,” Zuleeka said. “She and Prince Oriel put up enough of a fight to drain it, so it’s useless now, but I want you to have it as a reminder of tonight — of everything you helped make happen. We’ll send along orders to make sure they don’t remove it with the rest of your possessions. I want you to remember, every day, until you no longer can.”
Kiva swayed on her feet, the iron bars swirling before her, every word from her sister’s mouth like a hazy, nonsensical dream.
Zuleeka gave a sharp whistle, much like she’d done in the warehouse earlier that day, then waved the angeldust pouch again and said, “This really is a gift — something to help you survive the long journey back. You won’t notice a thing, not even the passing of time.”