Another sob left Kiva, this time not just from pain and loss, but also devastation.
Because she had failed.
And now, she didn’t have anything left to give, her healing power gone forever.
Zuleeka stopped when she reached Kiva and crouched down beside her, trailing a gentle, mocking finger down her face.
Kiva couldn’t move away, her body too weak, her pain too great. It took everything within her just to clutch at her stomach, trying to staunch her own blood.
“That was silly of you,” Zuleeka cooed. “Believe what you want, little sister, but I am sorry it’s come to this. If only you’d joined me, none of this would have happened.”
Kiva coughed, and blood bubbled out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.
She knew what that meant.
Knew she didn’t have long.
. . . And knew what she had to do.
Turning her neck was all she could manage, but it was enough for Kiva to lock eyes with Jaren, seeing him frozen only a few feet away, Zuleeka’s magic stopping him mid-sprint. His gaze was terrified, his face as white as a sheet, standing out in stark contrast to the fresh pink of his healed chest. She tried to speak to him silently, telling him how much she loved him, that he was worth what she’d just done, how sorry she was for what was about to happen. But then her sister continued speaking, and Kiva painstakingly looked back at her.
“Don’t worry,” Zuleeka said, her eyes amused as they flicked toward Jaren. “I won’t make him suffer. Consider it my very last gift to you — a quick death for your beloved.” She leaned down then, pressing her lips to Kiva’s forehead, before whispering in her ear, “Goodbye, sister.”
That was when Kiva spoke, managing to rasp only two words. “Goodbye, Zuleeka.”
And before her sister could realize what she was doing, Kiva used the last of her strength to rip the dagger from her own stomach, the sudden pain of it worse than before, worse than anything she’d ever experienced, but she made herself slash upward, even as Zuleeka’s eyes widened and she lurched away.
She was too slow, the blade swiping across her cheek.
It was a shallow wound, barely a scratch.
But it was enough.
An almighty scream roared from Zuleeka as she slapped her hand to her face, the shadows on the bridge instantly receding into her, like spilled ink being sucked back into its pot. Within the space of seconds, her power vanished without a trace, everyone it had held captive free again — and forever.
The next instant, Zuleeka was being tackled to the side by Naari, but she didn’t fight this time, her body limp and unresisting.
It was over.
It was done.
And then, suddenly, Jaren was there.
“Kiva, sweetheart, look at me,” he begged, cupping her face, his hands shaking. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”
He shouted then. Not at her — he shouted for help.
More hands were on her, Cresta’s hands, pressing hard against her abdomen. She was yelling something, yelling at Kiva, but Kiva couldn’t understand, her thoughts thick and sluggish. She knew she should feel pain, should have been in agony. But there was nothing.
Just blood.
Lots and lots of blood.
It was all Kiva could see.
Until her eyes closed.
And then —
Darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Pain.
Blood.
Yelling.
Silence.
For seconds, minutes, hours, days, Kiva knew nothing, floating in a sea of oblivion, her eyelids fluttering open and closed, each time revealing someone different.
Jaren, Tipp, Cresta, Torell, Naari, Ashlyn.
They spoke with her, begged and pleaded, but she couldn’t comprehend their words, couldn’t return them. She wanted to feel relief that they were there, that they’d survived the battle. But she also wanted them to be quiet so she could fall back into her blissful nothingness, where there was no pain, no fighting, no fear.
Just peace.
Other faces hovered over her, unfamiliar people dressed in white robes and smelling too clean, coming and going while murmuring in low, worried voices. Only one she recognized, a dark-skinned elderly woman with a kind face behind wire-framed spectacles. Something about her was soothing, reassuring. But Kiva’s dreamlike state meant she couldn’t remember why.
A hand was holding hers.
Lips were touching her cheek.
Blue-gold eyes were staring down at her.
A broken voice was whispering in her ear, telling her how loved she was, telling her to hold on.
Jaren.
She wanted to comfort him. To wipe away his tears.
But the darkness claimed her again.
And this time, it kept her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kiva awakened slowly, her eyelids feeling weighted down. She fought to open them, blinking once, twice, three times until her blurry vision cleared enough for her to see where she was.
Silverthorn, whispered an exhausted part of her mind, the small window in her private room revealing the familiar garden sanctuary at the center of the healing campus.
Part of her wondered how she had come to be there, her weary thoughts attempting to fill in the blanks of her memory, all while making her aware of the muted ache in her middle. But the other part of her was more insistent, demanding that she focus on the person sitting in the chair beside her bed — the last person she expected to see there.
Because it was Caldon.
He was paler than a corpse, his golden hair a tousled mess, but his cobalt eyes were sparkling as he drawled, “I leave you alone for a few hours, and look what happens.”
Kiva stared at him.
Stared and stared and stared.
And then her face crumpled and she burst out crying.
He swore and leapt up from his seat, sliding onto her bed and carefully — so very carefully — drawing her into his arms.
“We talked about this,” he said into her ear, one hand moving soothingly up and down her arm, the other holding her close. “No tears while I’m hugging you. That’s our rule.”
“I th-th-thought you w-were d-d-dead,” Kiva blubbed, the muted pain in her middle becoming less muted as her body heaved, but she couldn’t hold back the tide of what she was feeling. Everything she’d repressed upon learning of Caldon’s death rose to the surface, fear and horror and anguish, all now overcome by relief so acute that she could barely breathe.
“I nearly was,” Caldon said quietly, using his voice and his touch to comfort her. “I’ll tell you what happened, but only if you calm down. Your body needs to rest, and if you get too worked up, Healer Maddis is going to storm in here and yell at me again.”
“A-Again?” Kiva asked, hiccupping.
“I’m technically not supposed to be out of bed,” Caldon shared. “But Jaren was needed at an emergency Royal Council meeting, and I promised him you wouldn’t be alone, even if sitting here has been as entertaining as watching paint dry.” His eyes caught hers, mirth filling them as he said, “You drool in your sleep — did you know?”
Kiva didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed. But she was finally able to stop her tears and ask, her voice hoarse with disbelief, “How are you here? Galdric said —”
“Ah, yes, Galdric.” Caldon’s eyes darkened. “Aunt Ariana told us what the rings did to him. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.” His anger fled as quickly as it had arrived, and he answered, “I’m here because of Tipp. He saved my life.”