Gaping at the empty space beneath her, Kiva turned back to find Jaren shaking his head with fond amusement. “You really need to learn to trust me.”
A weightless feeling overcame Kiva until suddenly she was hovering above the rotten steps, Jaren’s elemental magic floating them both up to the top of the staircase, bypassing any further danger.
Kiva waited until she was standing on her own again before she said, “You could have done that from the beginning.”
“Magic always has a cost,” Jaren said, ushering her through another battered door that led out to an open-air rooftop. “Only a fool would waste power for no reason.”
“What does it cost you?” Kiva asked, curious.
“Depends on how much I use. Something like that” — he indicated the staircase behind them — “doesn’t require much. But larger things can become exhausting.”
Kiva cocked her head to the side. “So it’s like an energy transference?”
Jaren nodded and steered her around a stone chimney top. “As far as I understand it. The more energy I have, the stronger my magic. And vice versa.”
“Have you ever run out? Of magic, I mean.”
“A couple of times, when I was younger,” Jaren admitted. “I try to avoid that happening now, since it leaves me feeling strange, like a piece of me is missing. My magic is . . .” He paused, thinking. “It’s a part of me, you know? Like an arm or a leg. If I use too much too fast, it’s like I’ve cut off a limb and have to wait for it to regrow. Does that make sense?”
Kiva nodded, recognizing the similarities with her own magic — the forbidden healing power in her veins, a mark of the Corentine bloodline.
Unlike Jaren, however, Kiva couldn’t relate to his wistful tone, the joy and contentment in his voice as he spoke about his magic. For her own safety, she’d had to keep hers hidden deep within her. She’d come to consider it more a burden than a gift, something to deny at all costs, lest she risk exposure. In the last decade, she’d used it just the once, during a moment of true desperation to save —
“K-Kiva! You’re h-h-here!”
Jaren came to a dead halt and muttered a curse under his breath when he saw who stood before them. Kiva’s eyes softened at the young redheaded boy skipping their way, but then she snickered when she saw the reason for Jaren’s distress — his Golden Shield standing with her arms crossed, her dark face frowning with displeasure.
Before anyone could say anything — or shout anything, judging by Naari’s expression — Tipp reached Kiva and wrapped his arms around her in a quick hug. While it was brief, she reveled in the embrace, painfully aware that he’d nearly died six weeks earlier. Had she not arrived at the infirmary in time, had she not been able to use her long-suppressed magic to heal him . . .
But Tipp hadn’t died. He was alive and well, and just as effervescent as he’d always been.
Kiva had worried, the first few days after his near-death experience. He’d been disoriented when he’d finally awoken, even terrified. It had taken some quick lies to convince him that he’d bumped his head and anything he remembered couldn’t be trusted. When she’d assured him that he was all right, that he was free, he’d bounced back to his joyous self, ready to take on the world and experience life to the fullest. He hadn’t even blinked at hearing Jaren was a prince, but was simply all the more excited for what adventures they might find once they reached Vallenia.
“Come on, c-c-come on, come on,” Tipp said, yanking her toward the far edge of the building.
Kiva noted that there was a blanket resting on the ground, an open hamper beside it with fruit and pastries all laid out invitingly. But she only spared them a half glance as Tipp brought her to a screeching halt, her attention diverted by the view of the city.
“Wow,” Kiva breathed. It wasn’t just the shining River Palace that left her awestruck; with luminium threaded into the pale-colored rooftops of many of Vallenia’s homes, the entire city appeared to be glowing as the final kiss of sunshine faded beyond the horizon.
“Right?” Tipp said, jigging from foot to foot. “N-Naari said it’s one of the b-best views in the whole c-capital.”
“She’s not wrong,” Kiva agreed, glancing back to see the guard having a heated conversation with Jaren. The prince looked like he was fighting a grin, which was doing nothing to soothe Naari’s temper.
“Do you think w-we should save him?” Tipp whispered, following Kiva’s gaze. “Naari was really m-m-mad when she realized he’d l-left without her.”