Maybe she’d imagined the glow, after all.
But . . . she couldn’t ignore the sense of power thrumming just beneath her skin, an electric, addictive feeling begging for release. It took all of her strength to bury it deep down, forcing the tingling sensation to fade. Only then did she risk taking Caldon’s hand, his grip strong and steady as they set off down the hallway again and out into the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
After exiting the dilapidated building, Caldon led Kiva through a narrow alleyway, his hand still entwined with hers. There was nothing romantic about his hold, but rather it was like he was lending her his strength, his reminder that she was safe with him.
“Thank you,” Kiva said quietly. “For coming to get me.”
“By ‘get you,’ I assume you mean ‘save your ass,’” he muttered, turning them down a dark side street. “You owe me a new jacket, by the way.”
“I didn’t throw up on you,” Kiva defended.
“No, you just stabbed me,” he shot back. “There’s a hole two inches wide, right through the embroidery. It’s completely ruined.”
Kiva bit her lip, since it wasn’t just the fabric that was damaged. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
Registering her concern, Caldon dropped his attitude. “It’s just a flesh wound, Sunshine,” he said in a soothing voice. “You barely scratched me.”
She knew he was lying — she’d felt the blade sink into his flesh — but she was grateful for the reassuring look he sent her.
They turned down another side street, this one brighter than the others, the distant sounds of the River Festival reaching Kiva’s ears. She felt like years had passed since she’d witnessed the queen’s magic show. Exhaustion flooded her, the increased throbbing of her head making her desperate for a long, hot soak in the palace’s massive bathing tubs, after which she would happily sleep for the next three months.
“The rebels did us a favor by dragging you over to this side of the river,” Caldon said conversationally. “From here we can take the back entrance into the palace, avoiding the crowds entirely.”
Kiva wondered if her sister had planned that, like an ironic gift to ease the blow of everything she’d suffered through that night.
“We’re nearly there now,” the prince continued. “Are you good to keep going? We can stop and rest if you need a minute?”
Kiva hadn’t realized that Caldon had slowed his steps for her. “I’m fine,” she said, picking up her pace.
“You have a bump the size of Wenderall on the side of your head,” Caldon said dryly. “I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of not fine.”
Kiva grimaced, but returned, “And you’re bleeding from multiple wounds. If anyone needs to rest, it’s you.”
“Just the one wound, actually,” Caldon said with a pointed look.
Kiva didn’t say anything to that, feeling guilty all over again.
Caldon squeezed her fingers and relented, “You’re forgiven, Sunshine. I know you didn’t mean it.”
He was right. And that, Kiva realized, was a problem. Because Caldon was a Vallentis. Not even her favorite Vallentis, if she was being truthful. And yet, knowing she’d caused him pain made her feel physically ill.
Compassion was a healer’s most intrinsic quality, she reminded herself. What she was feeling was normal, a part of her fundamental makeup. But she could control it. She would control it. For ten years, all she’d wanted was to seek vengeance on the royal family — his family. Nothing would stop her from her mission, least of all herself.
“Home sweet home,” Caldon said when they turned the next corner to find the Serin River spread out before them, lapping gently against the stone wall bordering the rear of the palace. Both the eastern and western sides had much more picturesque views from the front — ornamental fences with cast iron gates overlaid with gold — but their backs were more military in appearance, fortified and intimidating, a strong contrast to the welcoming allure of the main entrances.
Caldon’s strides didn’t falter as he led Kiva straight to where a group of armed guards stood near a wall opening large enough to be used for deliveries and the movements of palace workers.
“Evening,” Caldon greeted the sentries.
“Prince Caldon, is everything all right?” a young female guard asked, noting his bloodied appearance.
“Never better,” he lied. “Can you send word to the search parties that they can return to the palace? Our little felon is safe and sound.”