Kiva winced. Lungrot was a terrible disease, with very few viable treatments. Patients usually died in a matter of weeks, sometimes days.
“Ever since we’d arrived in Evalon, we’d heard whispers that a Corentine heir had taken over leadership of the rebels,” Cresta went on. “We didn’t care about the ancient feud between Sarana and Torvin — nor did we care who sat on the Evalonian throne. We wanted nothing to do with a foreign royal dispute, so we stayed far away from any Vallentis or Corentine loyalists, keeping to ourselves and avoiding any personal connections. But when Mother’s sickness left her bedridden, the village healer made a passing comment about Tilda Corentine’s magic, saying it was a pity the rebels weren’t recruiting in the area.”
Kiva thought back to what Torell had shared about the early years of Tilda’s leadership, how she’d used her magic to heal anyone in need. It was only later that she’d begun to make them earn their healing, requiring that they prove themselves loyal to the rebel movement before receiving the reward of her power. If Cresta had been sixteen at the time, then that was around five years ago — Tilda would have still been healing people then.
“I knew it was a slim chance, but Mother was all I had left in the world, and I was willing to do whatever I could to save her,” Cresta said. “So I left her in the care of the healer and took off in search of the Rebel Queen.”
Nearly losing her balance, Kiva wobbled for a moment before steadying again. “Did you find her?”
“No,” Cresta answered in a flat voice. “I followed enough leads to get close to the rebel camp, but then I made the mistake of asking the wrong person for directions. He turned out to be an undercover Royal Guard and arrested me on charges of conspiracy to commit treason.” Her tone turned hoarse as she said, “I received a missive from my mother’s healer right before I was loaded into the prison wagon, telling me she’d passed. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Kiva set her foot back down, her hands lowering to her sides. “Cresta . . .” She trailed off, having no idea what to say.
“Didn’t you ever wonder why I tried to kill myself when I first arrived here?” Cresta asked.
Of course Kiva had wondered. But she’d never realized —
“You’re not the only person to have felt like you’ve lost everything,” Cresta said, her voice quiet. It regained strength as she went on, “I meant what I said earlier — I hated you for saving me. Every time I saw you, I remembered that you’d taken that choice from me. In return, I went out of my way to make your life unpleasant.”
Unpleasant was a generous description, Kiva thought.
“But in hindsight, I’m grateful for what you did. So grateful,” Cresta said. “Life is worth living, even the parts that make us feel like we want to die. That’s something I’ve learned in the last five years.” She hesitated, then added, “I know I’ve never said it before, but thank you. I wouldn’t be alive today without you.”
Kiva tried to rein in her emotions as she replied, “You’re welcome. But we both know the same can be said for me. I never would have made it through my withdrawal without your help. Or survived any of the days since then.”
“I thought you didn’t want to survive them?” Cresta asked, her tone pointed.
Kiva huffed out a sound that was part amused, part annoyed. “Turns out, I’ve grown close with this self-righteous ex-quarrier who seems to think I should hang around for a while. Something about making amends and earning forgiveness.”
“She sounds wise,” Cresta noted. “You should listen to her.”
This time, Kiva’s amusement won. Stretching out her tight muscles, she commented, “I still don’t understand how you ended up being a rebel.”
“Despite the impression I gave, I was never one of them — I was just working for them. Sort of,” Cresta answered. “One of the guards here was secretly a rebel, and he recruited me, telling me he’d ignore some of my more problematic indiscretions in return for me reporting back about —” Cresta broke off suddenly. “Gods, I can’t believe I never realized.”
“What?” Kiva asked.
“Part of my role was to convert prisoners and stir up trouble, but I was also meant to spy on the other inmates, especially you,” Cresta said. “I thought it was just because you were the Warden’s bosom buddy and they wanted someone on the inside watching you both closely. Now I can see that those orders must have come from your family, with them wanting to keep tabs on you.”
Kiva thought back to her decade locked away, with only sporadic coded messages revealing anything about how her mother, brother, and sister were doing, and similarly, only the briefest of details from her own life being sent outside the walls. She didn’t know how she felt, hearing that they’d been keeping an eye on her through other people. But she let it go to say, “You said before that you wanted nothing to do with the feud between my family and — and Jaren’s.” Kiva stumbled a little over his name. “I guess I’m just confused about why you agreed to work with them. Especially after — well, they’re the reason you ended up here, in a roundabout way. Weren’t you angry with them?”
“I was angry with everyone. You know that.”
“Then why —”
“They offered me a deal,” Cresta said. “If I turned enough prisoners to the rebel movement, then they’d come and break us out. I never believed in their cause — I meant what I said about wanting to avoid any royal complications. Corentine, Vallentis, I don’t care who rules Evalon. But I saw an opportunity to earn my freedom, and I took it.”
Kiva mulled over her words, realizing that most people would have done the same thing in Cresta’s position. No wonder she’d been so desperate for Kiva to keep Tilda alive — she’d seen it as her chance, finally, for the rebels to come and free her, free them.
The wheels started turning in Kiva’s head, and she asked, “What happened to the guard? Might he help us get word out to —”
“He’s dead,” Cresta said without feeling. “He was patrolling on the watchtower when it exploded.”
Kiva grimaced. “Who do you report to now?”
“No one,” Cresta said, yawning. “As far as I’m concerned, my rebel days are over. Especially after everything you shared about your sister. Do you really think I’m crazy enough to stay involved in that? No, thank you.”
“She’ll be disappointed,” Kiva murmured, recalling what Zuleeka had said about Cresta: She’s doing great things for our cause, even behind those walls.
Kiva felt a smug satisfaction in knowing that Cresta had never worked with the rebels out of loyalty, but had cooperated only for pragmatic, self-serving reasons.
“Life is full of disappointments,” Cresta said, yawning again, louder this time. “And besides, I have no desire to be anywhere near someone who can stop my heart with a thought.”
An awkward, strained silence fell, before the redhead coughed and amended, “Present company excluded.”
Instead of allowing dread to grip her, a choked laugh bubbled out of Kiva, the lightness of it surprising her after so long without any joy. And then Cresta was laughing with her, the two of them delirious from a combination of pain and fatigue, and merely from being once-enemies who were now locked in a tight, dark space together after having candidly shared their traumatic pasts.