Kiva snuggled into Jaren, breathing in his fresh, elemental scent, her heart feeling full. He stirred when he felt her move, his eyes opening slowly before his chin dipped down to look at her.
In a sleep-husky voice, he said, quiet enough to keep from rousing Tipp, “You’re awake.”
Kiva smiled and teased, “Or maybe you’re dreaming.”
His fingers whispered across her cheekbone, his touch so incredibly tender as he said, “Oh, I’m definitely dreaming.” He pressed the softest of kisses to her temple, before capturing her gaze and saying, “You scared me.”
Kiva felt the pain in his voice, the fear he couldn’t hide, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“What you did —”
“I’d do it again.”
He tensed against her.
“In a heartbeat,” she said, needing him to see how serious she was.
His eyes flashed with emotion — love, grief, terror, relief, and so much more. But then he said, so very carefully, as if he was worried she had forgotten, “Your magic . . .”
Kiva looked at her hands, knowing she would never again see the golden glow, trying to reconcile how that made her feel. For ten years, she had ignored her power, pushing it down as far as it would go. Then, when she’d finally released it, she’d spent months being afraid of it — not just her lack of control, but also the possibility of turning into a monster. It was only recently that she’d come to embrace it, to cherish it. And she couldn’t deny that a part of her would mourn its loss, especially knowing it was gone forever.
But there was a larger part of her that was relieved. Because now there was absolutely no chance that she would yield to the darker side of her bloodline. Nanna Delora had used the Eye of the Gods on herself to take away her own magic; she’d made that choice rather than risk the alternative. And while Kiva wished she’d been granted the same choice, she knew her sadness would pass.
In a whisper, Kiva shared all of that with Jaren, finishing quietly with, “I can live with not having magic. But I wouldn’t have been able to live with knowing you’d lost yours again — and everything you would have lost with it.”
The look in Jaren’s eyes caused the breath to catch in Kiva’s lungs. But she pushed through it to add, “And besides, my magic didn’t make me a healer, just as it won’t stop me from becoming a better one.”
Jaren understood her meaning immediately, and rasped out, “Does that mean you’re going to take Maddis up on her offer to study here?”
Kiva reached out to trace her fingers over his lips. “I have a few reasons to want to stay in Vallenia. I suppose that can be one of them.”
The uncertainty and worry faded from Jaren’s expression, his eyes dancing as he said, “A few reasons, huh?”
Kiva leaned up and, ignoring the pinch of pain in her stomach, touched her mouth to his. “At least one.”
He growled in the back of his throat and snaked a hand behind her neck, holding her to him and deepening the kiss, his tongue flicking out to tangle with hers, making her gasp.
But then her gasp turned from pleasure into pain when she tried to shift closer, her stomach screaming its protest.
Immediately, Jaren stilled, his eyes heated but apologetic as he eased her back into a resting position.
“No kissing until you’re all better,” he said in a firm voice.
Given how breathy he sounded, Kiva was absolutely confident she could change his mind. And she would — but maybe in a few days, when she didn’t feel as if her insides were going to tear apart every time she moved.
In an attempt to help cool them both off, Kiva said, “I’m afraid to ask, but . . . what happened on the bridge? At the end, I mean. After I . . . fell unconscious.”
Jaren knew what she really wanted to know, and he answered, his voice as gentle as possible, “Zuleeka is locked in the palace dungeons. She — I’m sorry, sweetheart, but she hasn’t shown any remorse. Tor tried to speak with her, but she just screamed at him, calling him a traitor and shouting at him to go away.”
Kiva closed her eyes and, this time, made herself ask, “What’s going to happen to her?”
Jaren’s arms tightened in comfort as he quietly said, “The Royal Council has sentenced her to Zalindov.”
Deep down Kiva had already known the answer, but it was still distressing to hear. She burrowed her face into Jaren’s chest, wishing things could have turned out differently, but knowing they had no other choice. Zuleeka had stolen a kingdom. She’d killed people, too many to count. She wasn’t like Mirryn — they couldn’t just exile her and expect her to go quietly. Even without magic, she was too dangerous, too volatile, and as Jaren had said, she was showing no remorse.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Jaren said again. “If there was any other way —”
“I know,” Kiva whispered, not needing an explanation. “I know.”
They fell silent after that, just lying there, holding each other. For the first time since waking at Silverthorn, Kiva didn’t feel the lure of sleep, and she soon began murmuring more questions to Jaren. She asked about the battle, how many people they’d lost, how much damage the palace had sustained, and what the plans were to rebuild. She asked how the Evalonian citizens were feeling about having the Vallentis family back in power, and what his thoughts were on the unexpected new alliance with Mirraven. She asked about the Eye of the Gods and whether the dagger had been secured — to which he confirmed it was now safely in Vallentis possession. Question after question poured from her mouth, with him filling her in on everything she’d missed while unconscious. In the middle of it all, Tipp woke, and Jaren had to physically restrain him when he launched out of his chair to hug Kiva, reminding the young boy that she still needed time to heal.
They had more visitors then, with Caldon sneaking out of his own room and Cresta appearing suspiciously soon afterward. Then Ashlyn and Torell arrived, both visibly relieved to see Kiva awake — Tor especially, judging by the shuddering embrace he gave her and the way he said she was never to worry him like that again. At her request, he and Ashlyn recounted their side of the battle, and the lead-up to it from when they’d arrived in Vallenia, including Tor saying, with some embarrassment, how easy it had been for him to convince the rebels to fight. Kiva wasn’t surprised — she still remembered her visit to the rebel camp outside Oakhollow, how everyone had worshipped him as their general.
Rhessinda appeared shortly after that, carrying a gift basket full of chocabuns that Kiva promptly began stuffing — carefully — into her mouth. They helped ease the sadness she felt when Torell shared that he and Rhess would be following Ashlyn back to the central army base at Highworth Keep once the palace clean-up was complete. He claimed it was so they could work together on a strategy to help the rebels assimilate into not being rebels, but Kiva knew it was more than that. She saw it in the way he and Ashlyn kept sneaking glances at each other — and she heard it in the comical way Rhess grumbled about being “that awkward third wheel.” But it was clear that she, too, was excited for their next adventure — and equally clear that she would follow Tor wherever he went, not for any romantic reasons, but purely out of loyalty.