She reached for his hand and wound their fingers together, offering the only comfort she could. And then she recalled what he’d said — that she had her answers now, even if she didn’t like what she’d heard.
“Thank you,” she said to them both, barely recognizing her own voice. “For telling me.”
Zuleeka avoided her eyes, but at least Kiva now understood why her sister seemed to hate her so much.
She blamed Kiva for their mother’s death.
It was unfair, but Kiva knew grief made people do, think, and say things they otherwise wouldn’t. She also knew there was no point in trying to convince Zuleeka that she’d had no control over Tilda’s actions — nor would she have endorsed them if given the choice.
“It’s your turn now,” Tor said, pulling Kiva from her dejected thoughts. “What’s going on with your magic? Tell us everything.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kiva took her time explaining about her uncontrolled magic bursts and her fears of it happening around the royals. When she was done, silence fell in the command tent as her siblings considered her troubles.
“Did Mother ever mention anything like this happening to her?” Kiva asked. “She spent years repressing her magic. If this is a side effect of that —”
“She didn’t repress it,” Tor said. When Kiva made to argue, he went on, “She just hid it from the rest of us. Even from Father.”
“Little magics, she called it,” Zuleeka said, her earlier antagonism having faded as she’d listened to Kiva, as if releasing her anger had eased something inside her. Now there was only a thoughtful expression on her face, no sneer in sight. “When she started strengthening her power to help our cause, she told us she’d been using it all along, just in small ways. A bruise here, a scratch there, always when we were asleep or distracted. She said she’d never been able to stop entirely, that the magic in her wouldn’t allow itself to be silenced.”
Kiva rubbed her forehead. “If that’s true, how was I able to silence mine for a decade?”
“Perhaps your magic is weaker than hers was?” Tor suggested.
Zuleeka’s eyes were calculating. “Or stronger. There was a reason she thought you should be her heir.”
There was a bitter note in Zuleeka’s voice that Kiva carefully ignored.
“You want to know what I think?” her sister continued. She didn’t wait for Kiva to answer. “I think your magic is angry that you locked it away for so long, and these uncontrolled bursts are its way of demanding your attention. I think you need to listen to it, you need to use it.”
Kiva leaned forward and hissed, “I’m sleeping three doors away from Jaren Vallentis. I can’t listen to it. I need it to stop.” As suddenly as it had arrived, the fight left her, and she slumped in her seat. “Please. If you know anything . . .” Whispering, she repeated, “I need it to stop.”
Torell was looking at her with compassion, but Zuleeka still wore a calculating expression.
“There is one possibility,” she said slowly. “Someone who might be able to help.”
“Who?” Kiva croaked, willing to beg if needed.
Tor’s face cleared with understanding. He shook his head firmly at Zuleeka. “Absolutely not. Are you crazy?”
Inexplicably, an amused smile stretched across her mouth. “I’m not.”
“But she is — and then some.” Tor shook his head again.
“If you have a better suggestion . . .” Zuleeka goaded, arching an eyebrow.
Kiva interrupted to ask, “Does someone want to fill me in?”
Tor pinched the bridge of his nose, but he waved a hand at Zuleeka, indicating for her to go ahead. She did, offering two nonsensical words.
“Nanna Delora.”
Kiva blinked. “Nanna who?”
“Our grandmother,” Zuleeka explained. “Mama’s mother. Delora Corentine.”
Kiva froze, having had no idea they even had any living relatives, let alone on the Corentine side.
“She has magic. Had magic,” Zuleeka corrected. “If anyone knows how to repress it, it’s her.”
“She’s also a raving lunatic,” Torell stated. “Mother took us to see her once, right after we joined the rebels. She wanted to retrieve a family heirloom, but Nanna Delora took one look at us and screamed that we were interrupting her book club. She slammed the door in our faces, yelling that if she ever saw us again, she’d ride to Vallenia and turn us all in.”