“Exactly!” Horeth cried. “She resisted his arrest! That’s a criminal offen —”
“She was seven years old!” Jaren all but yelled, his hands now fisted on the table. “She’d just watched her brother die in a senseless accident, and her father was being dragged away into the night. Of course she resisted his arrest. Anyone would have!”
Kiva didn’t hear Horeth’s reply over the ringing in her ears. She tried to calm her raging heartbeat, reminding herself that she’d told Jaren parts of her story months ago. He’d already known Kerrin had died — she’d just never told him how, or that she’d witnessed it. He’d also known about her father being in Zalindov, but she’d never revealed what Faran had been accused of. That was dangerous information, the kind that could make him question if she had ulterior motives, especially since she’d failed to divulge the full truth herself.
But . . . if Jaren had known everything since their first day at the winter palace, if Caldon had known for even longer . . .
The tightness in Kiva’s chest eased as she realized that was all they knew. Caldon must not have dug any deeper after reading her prison records — not that he would have had a reason to. The charges against her father were unfounded and therefore led to a dead end. Furthermore, there was nothing in Warden Rooke’s archives that could have linked her — or Faran — to Tilda, nor had she or her father ever been known as anything other than Meridan, with the name Corentine having been abandoned by her mother’s great-something grandmother generations before Kiva had been born. Prior to Zalindov, her family had stayed clear of any rebel activity, so there was nothing incriminating in her history — and certainly nothing that was documented.
That meant she was still safe.
But she’d underestimated them. Both Jaren and Caldon. She couldn’t afford to do so again.
“The only good thing out of this entire mess,” Jaren said, running agitated fingers through his hair, “is that Kiva seems to have been too young to know it was the Royal Guard that ruined her life, or that Captain Veris himself was there that night.” He was wrong on both counts, but Kiva wasn’t about to pop out of the cabinet and correct him. “She hasn’t shown any signs of recognition, but Veris remembers her like it was yesterday. I’ll never forget those eyes, he told me.” Jaren stared down at the table, his expression wretched as he whispered, “Gods, if she knew the truth, she’d never be able to look at me again.”
He was wrong about that, too, even if Kiva wished he wasn’t.
“What a tragedy that would be,” Horeth said callously. He turned to the queen and said, “Your Majesty, you can’t possibly want the Meridan girl running around the palace? The child, too — Tripper, or whatever his name is. They’re a security threat. If nothing else, they should have guards on them at all times.”
Jaren opened his mouth to argue, but Ariana placed her hand over his clenched fist, silencing him.
“I’ll admit that when I first heard about my son’s traveling companions, I was concerned,” the queen said. “But I also knew he would never risk placing our family — or our kingdom — in any danger. Jaren trusts them, and I trust his judgment.” She eyed each of the council members, her gaze lingering on Horeth as she finished, “You should, too.”
“Trust is the first ingredient in a recipe for betrayal,” the Grand Master returned, shaking his head — in disappointment or disgust, Kiva wasn’t sure. But goose bumps prickled her flesh at his prophetic words.
“Horeth makes a good point,” the bald-headed Feldor interjected. “What is the basis for your trust, Prince Deverick? An explanation might help us understand better.”
“Kiva saved my life,” Jaren said, his words simple, but every person in the room sat up straighter. “I’d be dead in a tunnel beneath Zalindov right now if not for her. I could barely stand without her help, let alone walk out of there on my own. She could have left me, and she didn’t.”
Queen Ariana’s beautiful features had paled with each word Jaren spoke, though surely she already knew every detail of their escape.
Horeth, however, made a dismissive sound. “Naari would have found you eventually. And even if she hadn’t, are we supposed to ignore your magic? You didn’t need to walk out of there, Your Highness, and we all know it.”
Kiva blinked into the darkness, realizing Horeth was right. If Jaren could hover above an underground river, he could have easily levitated himself to the tunnel exit and up the ladders. Hell, he could have just used his earth magic to crack open the ground, rising straight up to the surface.