“Why — won’t — you — just — die!” Zuleeka grunted between attacks, moving closer with every strike. Soon she was within spitting distance, and that was when she did something Kiva didn’t expect — she touched a Royal Guard running past, her magic working too fast for Kiva to keep the woman from death, after which Zuleeka snatched up her fallen sword and stabbed it forward.
Kiva jumped to the side and frantically scanned the ground for a weapon, but then Naari was there, leaping to intercept Zuleeka’s blade.
Zuleeka roared again and fought back with a vengeance. Seeing them pivot around each other made Kiva remember the feud between them — how years ago, Zuleeka had taken Naari’s hand, and just months ago, had forced her into a magical coma. Naari was out for blood now, but Zuleeka was a deadly opponent, her magic and her swordsmanship a lethal combination.
Kiva did everything she could to keep the shadows from touching Naari as she battled Zuleeka, remaining close enough to nullify her sister’s dark power all while dodging the magical and mundane attacks occurring around them. Her own power began to splutter, but she reached deep within herself, begging for more, despite knowing she couldn’t continue for much longer. What they were doing wasn’t working. Even with Naari’s help, Zuleeka wasn’t weakening, and no one else was free to lend their strength against her. Jaren was still surrounded by guards, his magic fully depleted. Cresta was lost in her duel with Navok, her entire focus on her brother. Everyone else was out on the grounds, too far away to offer any aid. And Kiva’s magic . . . what remained was like a candle flickering in the wind.
Love. She needs to focus on love.
Caldon’s voice whispered across her mind, causing a sob to catch in her throat. She couldn’t think about him now, or how one of the last things he’d said was that he wouldn’t let her face Zuleeka alone: We’re in this together, Sunshine. You and me.
Only, he wasn’t there. And she was facing Zuleeka without him.
Kiva’s heart cracked all over again.
But she now also knew what she had to do.
Love. She needs to focus on love.
Despite her training, all the magic she had left was currently being fueled by desperation — but it needed more than that. For light to grow, it needed more light.
I want you to think of a memory, Jaren had told her, weeks earlier, a good one.
A memory filled with love, Caldon had added.
Even in the midst of the battle, that wasn’t difficult for Kiva — because all she had to do was think of them.
Jaren and Caldon.
Tipp and Naari.
Cresta and Torell and Ashlyn.
All the people so dear to her, who had fought with her — and for her. She thought of kissing Jaren on the mountaintop, of crying in Caldon’s arms. Of Tipp’s gap-toothed smile and Naari’s fierce protection. Of Cresta’s unexpected friendship, Torell’s unflinching loyalty, and Ashlyn’s unearned kindness.
They were her hope.
They were her strength.
They were the reason she would not give up.
Could not give up.
And when Zuleeka finally managed to get a lucky swipe in, slashing her blade across Naari’s torso and sending her staggering to the ground, Kiva didn’t hesitate. One arm shot out toward the guard, golden light stitching the wound back together, while her other arm pointed straight at Zuleeka, all the love and hope and strength she was feeling coming out of her in a blaze as bright as the sun, striking her sister in the chest.
Zuleeka dropped her sword and went down onto a knee, a shriek leaving her as she scrambled to summon her shadows.
Dark and light.
Light and dark.
Zuleeka continued resisting, and fear tried to overwhelm Kiva, but she wouldn’t let it, thinking only of those she loved, of the strength that love gave her.
And then, suddenly, Zuleeka’s shadows were gone.
Kiva tipped forward from the unexpected lack of resistance, nearly losing her footing.
The bridge battle continued around them, but it was as if they were in their own bubble as they stared at each other, chests heaving with exertion, emerald eyes locked on honey-gold.
Kiva’s pulse was racing, the question of Is it over? flooding her mind. She was aware of Naari trying to get up but not yet able to, of Jaren finally being free of opponents and sprinting her way. But her gaze remained only on Zuleeka, who was still kneeling in defeat, looking up at her with emotion-filled eyes.
Her shadows were gone.
Her death magic burned away.
Healed.
Kiva stood there, shaking, hardly daring to believe it, not even when Zuleeka opened her mouth, her voice a broken rasp of sound.
“Everything I did was for our family,” she whispered. “Everything I achieved — everything I wanted — was for us.”
Kiva swallowed. “It was never yours to want.”
Zuleeka didn’t hear her. Didn’t listen. Her tone changed, becoming as hard as steel as she hissed, “You tried to take that from me. So now I’ll take everything you want.”
A loud, pained cry made Kiva’s head whip to the side just in time to see Navok’s stunned face as Cresta pulled her blade from his chest, his hands clutching at the mortal wound before he stumbled backwards — right over the railing and into the river below.
Cresta had done it.
She had defeated Navok.
She was queen of Mirraven.
That meant she could call off the battle — immediately.
But then Kiva realized her own fatal mistake, and turned quickly back to Zuleeka, seeing what the distraction had cost her.
Because in her sister’s hands was a familiar dagger, something Kiva had forgotten about with all the dangers surrounding them, despite it being the one weapon they all should have taken care to remember.
The Eye of the Gods.
With a wicked, lethal grin on her face, Zuleeka threw the blade into the air.
But it wasn’t aimed at Kiva.
Now I’ll take everything you want.
Zuleeka’s words echoed in Kiva’s ears as she saw the trajectory of the blade, knowing she had a fraction of a second to make a decision.
She didn’t hesitate.
Because the Eye was aimed at Jaren. The one weapon that could take away his magic — again — and this time, there would be no hope of getting it back. He wouldn’t just lose his powers, he would lose his right to rule. And that was something Kiva couldn’t accept, couldn’t allow.
So she dived in the path of the blade.
Pain — burning, blinding pain lanced through her as she landed hard on the bridge, but it wasn’t just the agony of the dagger lodging deep into her stomach; it was the ice cold feeling of her magic screaming in her veins. She could feel the Eye sucking it up — could feel it leaving her, being stolen from her.
And then it was gone. From one moment to the next, like it had never been.
A sob left Kiva, but she didn’t have a chance to mourn what she’d just lost, nor to be concerned about the numbness spreading outward from her wound. Instead, it was fear she felt — because Jaren should have reached her by now. Naari should have scrambled over. Even Cresta should have come running.
But Kiva was alone, the bridge quiet and still —
And covered in shadows.
No, she gasped inwardly as Zuleeka approached, a triumphant, crazed smile on her lips.
She’d never been defeated; her death magic was as strong as ever.