Kiva caught on to his word choice and asked, “When you say ‘encouraging’ . . . ?”
Torell looked across the tent, not meeting her eyes. “She did what she had to do. We did what we had to do.”
Their attacks grew bolder, to the point that they became openly hostile, causing damage to villages and loss of life to those who stood against them.
Kiva swallowed at the memory of Jaren’s words from two days ago.
“You hurt people,” she whispered. “Killed people.”
“Only if they tried to hurt us first,” Zuleeka said, inspecting her fingernails. “They got what they asked for.” She met Kiva’s stricken gaze, her own eyes cold. “Wars aren’t won without sacrifice, little sister. Anyone who stands against us is our enemy — and enemies don’t deserve mercy. Why should we care about them when they don’t care about us?”
But Zuleeka was wrong. Kiva knew at least one person who did care — about all his people, including the rebels.
“Did Mother ever consider that maybe there was another way?” Kiva asked, her voice rough. “That innocent people didn’t have to suffer in her quest for vengeance?”
“Innocent?” Zuleeka barked out a laugh. “You’ve been spending too much time with your handsome prince. It doesn’t take much, does it? Baby blue eyes and tousled golden hair, and you’re ready to give up everything we’ve worked for.”
“You’ve worked for,” Kiva said tightly. “Everything you’ve worked for. Because in case you forgot, I was locked away that whole time, having no idea what was happening.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Zuleeka said darkly. “You got to sit back and relax for a decade while we gave every part of ourselves to the cause. Our blood, our sweat, our tears, all for you.”
Kiva spluttered. “Sit back and re — ” She broke off quickly. “What do you mean, ‘all for me’？”
“Oh, please, as if you haven’t figured it out,” Zuleeka scoffed.
“Figured what out?”
“That Mother is dead because of you.”
Kiva felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “What?” she breathed.
“Zu —”
“No, Tor,” Zuleeka interrupted, slicing her eyes to him. “If she’s so desperate for answers, then she can deal with the consequences.”
A muscle feathered in Torell’s cheek, but he didn’t try to stop her again.
Turning back to the white-faced Kiva, Zuleeka said, “Mother was sick. A rotting illness, something we couldn’t find a cure for. She could heal anyone else in seconds, but her magic never worked on herself. The infection spread slowly, over years, something none of us realized until it was too late.”
Kiva closed her eyes, remembering how Tilda had arrived at Zalindov, a mere shell of a human.
“When the end was near, she became obsessed with freeing you. She was convinced that you should be the one to take over as Rebel Queen,” Zuleeka went on, her features grim. “But Galdric and the other leaders knew Zalindov was too well fortified and the risk was too great. Once, they might have led the rescue themselves, since Mother spent years talking about how powerful you were, even as a child. All along, they’d intended for her to take the throne and you to be her heir — the Corentine blood in your veins was undeniable. But as Tor rose through the ranks to become general, and as I earned the respect of Galdric and his peers, they decided that we were enough to lead in Mother’s place, even without your supposedly immeasurable magic. The rebel leaders knew we were Torvin’s descendants, they didn’t require anything more to see us on the throne. But Mother —” Zuleeka looked away. “The sicker she became, the more determined she was to see you one last time.”
Kiva was having trouble breathing. “I was told she was captured in Mirraven.”
“She was,” Tor said, his voice thick.
“But only because she walked right into Zadria and knocked on the castle gates,” Zuleeka said. “King Navok was more than happy to make a deal with the Rebel Queen, knowing how much it would piss off the Vallentis family — and how desperate they were to get their hands on her. In return, he only had to make it so the negotiations between kingdoms resolved with her heading to Zalindov. To you.”
In a hoarse voice, Kiva shared, “But I didn’t get to speak with her. Not really. She was so sick when she arrived. And she was — she was blind. You said she wanted to see me, but she —” Kiva sucked in a quick, painful breath and looked down at the table. “She didn’t get to see me.”