And Cresta . . .
There was no way to describe her wicked glee.
“Alabastor Rooke,” Jaren said, and Kiva stilled at his rarely heard princely voice, “you have been found guilty of crimes against humanity, including, but not limited to, mass genocide. You are hereby stripped of your position as Warden and sentenced to a life term at the very prison in which you committed those crimes.”
Kiva’s breathing turned shallow, disbelief thrumming through her veins.
At Jaren’s signal, Rooke’s own guards stepped forward, causing the Warden’s eyes to flash and narrow.
“You can’t do this,” he spat. “I don’t take orders from Evalon — I answer to all eight kingdoms. You don’t have the power to —”
“He didn’t,” Cresta cut Rooke off, “but since we recently thwarted a tyrant’s plans to conquer all of Wenderall, the rulers of the other kingdoms are, shall we say, grateful.” Her wicked delight grew as she shared, “It was no trouble to ask them each for a favor.” She nodded to the parchment Rooke was clenching in his fist. “All their signatures are there. You can see for yourself.”
He didn’t look down, having already read the page.
“You can’t do this,” he said again, but this time, his anger had reverted to fear.
“We can, and we have,” Cresta said, enjoying herself way too much.
Kiva was still frozen, hardly daring to believe what was happening, that Rooke was finally going to see justice for what he’d done, for all the people he’d killed — including her father.
“There’s one more thing,” Jaren said casually. “Your crimes against humanity mean a life term at Zalindov, but your crimes against the crown prince of Evalon” — he indicated himself — “and the new queen of Mirraven” — he indicated Cresta, who gave a middle-fingered salute — “deserve something a little extra.”
“What are you talking about?” Rooke demanded, back to anger once more.
Jaren turned to Tipp. “Would you care to do the honors?”
The young boy grinned, the look unlike anything Kiva had ever seen on his face before, with it eerily similar to the expression Cresta wore. In a loud voice, he recited, “You are h-hereby sentenced to the T-Trial by Ordeal. Should y-y-you survive, you’ll be s-set free. But should y-you fail . . .” Tipp shrugged, his grin still in place. “You know h-how that ends.”
Kiva stood there, stunned, but she didn’t have a chance to process the words — and their almost definite death sentence — before Rooke lunged. His own guards stopped him, latching on to his arms and hauling him back as he screamed at them, shouting for them to release him, but their grip was unyielding.
Cresta ambled forward, a slow, unhurried approach, but once she was before Rooke, she struck as fast as a snake, yanking his left arm toward her while pulling a dagger from her belt. In the space of a blink, she managed to carve three short, sharp lines across the back of his hand, the blood welling instantly around the Z.
“Now you’ll fit right in,” she said over his furious — and now pained — roars. To the guards, she said, “Take him away.”
They didn’t hesitate, dragging him kicking and screaming through the iron gates until he, like Zuleeka, was out of sight.
Kiva turned woodenly toward her friends, a storm of emotion warring within her.
Jaren moved straight back to her side. “Was that all right? We didn’t want to tell you before, just in case —”
Kiva placed her fingers over his lips, tears welling as she whispered, “Thank you.” She glanced at the others. “All of you.”
“We didn’t do it just for you,” Cresta said, rolling her eyes.
Kiva knew that. Cresta had suffered just as much because of Rooke, if in different ways. Tipp, too, having been at Zalindov for three years. Even Jaren and Naari from their short but memorable stays. All of them damaged by the Warden, some of their scars visible, others hidden. But now no one else had to suffer under him, his reign of terror over.
“You h-have to tell her the r-r-rest,” Tipp said, bouncing on his feet.
“There’s more?” Kiva rasped.
It was Eidran who spoke, his voice a calming rumble as he revealed, “I’ll be taking up the post of interim Warden until we find a suitable replacement for Rooke. While I’m here, I’ll be weeding out any guards who have abused their power, making sure they’re held accountable.”
Bones and the Butcher, Kiva realized, her gaze shooting to Cresta. The redhead only grinned back, none of this being news to her.
“And not just that,” Ashlyn jumped in. “The other kingdoms have agreed — Zalindov needs to change. It’ll take time, but we’ll be implementing proper judicial systems, making sure the punishment fits the crime. Some people will never be allowed to leave” — she didn’t have to say Zuleeka’s name for Kiva to know her sister was in that category — “but for others, coming here will no longer be a death sentence. Soon prisoners will be able to earn their freedom.”
Freedom from Zalindov. Once upon a time, Kiva never could have imagined such a concept.
But now . . .
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, her voice cracking as she took in her friends, all of whom seemed pleased with her reaction.
Except for Cresta, who drawled, “To repeat, we didn’t do it just for you.”
The reason didn’t matter. For too many years, Zalindov had plagued Kiva’s thoughts and haunted her nightmares. Knowing future inmates might be spared the same suffering, that there could be life after Zalindov . . .
A weight lifted from Kiva’s shoulders, replaced by a sense of rightness, of justice.
But not just that. As she looked up at the limestone walls, she suddenly realized that, with or without the coming changes, Zalindov no longer held any power over her. It was in her past — and it would be remaining there.
She had survived.
Now it was time for her to live.
Feeling that settle somewhere deep within her, Kiva looked at Jaren, at her friends, at her brother, and asked, her voice thick with wonder, with hope, “What happens now?”
It was Jaren who answered, leaning in to whisper three perfect words right into her ear:
“Now, we dream.”
Acknowledgments
Wowza, I honestly can’t believe I made it here. That we made it here. There was a moment before The Prison Healer came out, during the early days of the pandemic’s horror and uncertainty, when I vividly remember wondering if the world would even be around by the time its release was due. (Don’t act like you didn’t have the same thought at least once!) And now, here we are—a full trilogy complete and in your hands!
I won’t lie: this book was a challenge. I thought nothing would ever test me as much as everything with The Gilded Cage, but, oh boy, I should have knocked on wood or something after that one, because The Blood Traitor didn’t just shift things into the next level of difficulty, but into an entirely new stratosphere.
And yet.
This book—guys, this book.
I just love it so much. (It has a quest!! What’s not to love about a quest!! And Jaren = omigossssh, how can you NOT love him?! And don’t get me started on Caldon! And Cresta! CRESTA! Total MVP right there. (Yes, I’m aware that I’m fangirling about my own characters right now—I JUST LOVE THEM, OKAY?)