Her childhood fantasies had remained with her during her years at Zalindov, offering a mental escape on the darkest of days. Even now, Kiva still longed for the dreams of her youth, for the utter freedom of her imagination. Maybe one day she would have a chance to travel beyond Evalon, to experience the wonders of Wenderall for herself. Maybe one day she would be free to —
Kiva froze as a sound met her ears, yanking her viciously from her nostalgia. She stretched her senses as far as they would go, straining to hear beyond her panicked pulse.
There. In the distance.
Voices.
CHAPTER TEN
Ice flooded Kiva’s veins as she stared at the open doorway, before she came to her senses and lunged forward to shut it. The voices seemed too far away for them to have reached the fork and noticed the light streaming into the tunnel, so her presence remained undiscovered, for now.
But the Royal Council was heading her way.
Jaren was heading her way.
And in closing the door, she had just trapped herself in the room.
For a single, heart-stopping second, all thoughts eddied from Kiva’s mind as fear took hold, but then she snapped out of it and began searching desperately for a hiding place.
She looked at the bookcase overflowing with tomes, dismissing it immediately. She then considered whether she could remain unseen beneath the mahogany table, only to reject that idea just as fast. Gazing frantically around, her eyes came to rest on the ashwood cabinet, a gasp of hope leaving her as she bolted toward it, yanking open the doors and shoving aside the bottles of spirits and unused parchment. Her sore muscles burned in protest as she twisted her body into the cramped space, curling at the waist and wrapping her arms around her legs in order to fit. It took three tries before she was able to close the cabinet doors, but finally she managed to seal herself inside.
For a moment, Kiva could see nothing, the musty smell of wood overloading her senses, coupled with the more pungent scent of alcohol indicating that a bottle must have spilled at some point. The darkness was consuming, the walls closing in on her, hauling her back to her time in the Abyss when she’d been locked in the pitch-black cell for a fortnight.
Trapped.
Just as she was now.
Her breathing began to grow louder as her lungs constricted, recollected terror causing sweat to break out on her forehead.
She couldn’t see.
She couldn’t breathe.
She had to get out of there.
She had to get out of there.
But then her eyes began to adjust, a sliver of light trickling through a small gap between the cabinet doors offering Kiva a lifeline. She released a shaky breath and pressed her face against the wood, one eye able to peek out into the room beyond —
Just in time to watch the door open with the arrival of the Royal Council, Jaren at their head. Queen Ariana also accompanied them, having clearly abandoned her afternoon of paperwork.
Kiva reminded herself that she was no longer locked away in the Abyss, but she would be if they caught her. She had to stay calm, had to stay silent.
And she had to pay attention. Because inadvertently or not, she’d just found herself in the best position to spy on the Royal Council.
“— want you to acknowledge that it was reckless and dangerous,” a middle-aged man with graying hair was saying, his beady eyes set in a frown. “Foolish, even. So much could have gone wrong. So much did go wrong.”
“Horeth, if you intend to spend the afternoon scolding me like a child, let me know now,” Jaren said with clear impatience. “I have better things to do.”
Horeth — Kiva had heard that name earlier. He was the Grand Master of the Royal Council. And right now he was scowling at Jaren, as were the three other people who had trailed into the room behind him, two women and another man. All four of the council members wore red robes with glimmering circlets at their brows, Horeth’s being gold, the other three silver.
Jaren and Ariana took their seats at the table, with the Grand Master and his three companions following their lead. Kiva had to crane her neck and squint through the gap in the cabinet to keep her eye on them all, but she was still able to see everyone reasonably well.
“I think what my son means to say is that he’s aware his actions were . . . rash,” Ariana said in a mollifying voice. “But when he heard news of Tilda Corentine’s impending transfer to Zalindov, he saw an opportunity too great to resist.”
Kiva’s fingers twitched at the mention of her mother.
“And he nearly died because of it,” a dark-skinned woman pointed out, her black hair pulled into a strict bun at the nape of her neck.