“I told you, it’s a long story,” Kiva said, unable to hide the pain in her voice. “But Jaren and Caldon . . .” Her throat tightened. “They make it very hard not to love them.”
When Kiva glanced across at Brynn, she found the maid watching her, as if trying to decide whether or not she was lying.
“Trust me,” Kiva said defensively, “if you met them, you’d understand.” But then she remembered that the princes had visited Zadria for diplomatic purposes in the past, and she asked, “Have you met them? How long have you worked here?”
“Only a few months,” Brynn said. “If they visited in that time, then I didn’t see them.”
Before Kiva could confirm that neither would have been there — they were both too busy dealing with her drama, first in Zalindov and then later in Vallenia — the maid halted before a closed set of double doors with two Gray Guards standing at either side. She shifted from foot to foot, her gaze darting to the soldiers and away again as if she was debating her next words.
Finally, she leaned in close and whispered, “The king is known for his temper. Make sure you curtsey deep and don’t rise until he bids you to do so. Don’t speak without his permission. Don’t hold his gaze for too long, or he’ll think you’re challenging him. Don’t leave without his consent. Treat him as you would a wild animal — one that might turn on you at any moment.”
Kiva had already been nervous about meeting Navok, but now her insides roiled. “Aren’t you coming in with me?”
Brynn shook her head, her expression apologetic. “One of the Gray Guards will escort you back to your room when you’re done. I’ll be waiting for you there.”
That brought Kiva some comfort, but not much. There was something about the maid that she was drawn to, the openness of her features offering a quiet promise that she was on Kiva’s side, that she could be trusted.
But Kiva knew better than to trust blindly. Especially in a place like Blackmount Castle.
“Go,” Brynn urged, signaling to the nearest guard, who knocked on the door and proceeded to open it. “You’ll be all right. Just remember what I said.”
Kiva swallowed, before reminding herself of all that she’d gone through in her seventeen years. She could face a king, even a cruel one, especially if it meant she would receive answers. Temper or not, Navok would soon be her brother-in-law, and he had no reason to harm her. She would meet with him, ask her questions, then leave him to his business.
With her goals set, Kiva steeled her spine and indicated to Brynn that she was ready, before stepping past the guards and entering the king’s receiving room. Inside she found the same black, scarlet, and silver colors from floor to ceiling, with a roaring fireplace drawing her attention to the far wall. In front of it and facing away from her were two dark velvet lounges, one of which was occupied.
King Navok didn’t turn at the sound of the soldiers closing the doors behind Kiva; all she could see of him was the back of his head, his hair a burnished bronze, streaked liberally with shades of auburn and copper, making it appear as fiery as the blaze in the grate.
Unsure of herself, Kiva hesitated in the doorway.
“Don’t be shy,” Navok called, still without turning. His voice was smooth and cultured, his accent not as strong as the others Kiva had met from his kingdom. “Come closer and let me have a look at you.”
An unpleasant sensation crawled up Kiva’s spine, especially when she recalled how Brynn had said he’d chosen the revealing gown himself. But she made herself walk forward, moving around the unoccupied lounge until she was standing between Navok and the fireplace. Following the maid’s instructions, she kept her eyes averted and dipped into a curtsey, painfully aware of the low cut of her dress and grateful for the Vallentis crest hiding what it could of her chest. There was nothing she could do about the split at her leg, the crimson material gaping to near-indecent levels.
Remembering Brynn’s warning, Kiva maintained her lowered position, gritting her teeth when Navok kept her genuflecting for what felt like an obscene amount of time. She barely kept from shooting him a glare when he finally said, “Rise.”
Kiva straightened, the fireplace at her back close enough for her to feel its burning caress. She didn’t move forward, since that would bring her closer to Navok. Nor did she take a seat on the second lounge, waiting for his permission to do so — permission he failed to give.
When Kiva lifted her gaze to meet his, going against Brynn’s advice, she found his eyes roaming over her, causing her skin-crawling feeling to deepen. But rather than focus on it, she stared right back, fighting to hide her reaction as she took in his black-clothed form lounging on the velvet chaise.
If Kiva had given any thought to what the Kildarion ruler might look like, she would have envisioned angry eyes and hard features, someone who was as unattractive on the outside as he was said to be on the inside. But Navok was . . . not that. Even reclined, she could see he had a strong, healthy physique, with broad shoulders in a muscled frame. And his face —
Kiva pressed her lips together, irrationally annoyed that the cruel northern king looked like that.
His eyes were light brown, bordered by thick lashes, his fiery hair making them stand out in his striking face, his square jaw dusted with auburn stubble. He wasn’t classically handsome — he was something more than that. Rugged. Wild.
Dangerous.
“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” he finally drawled, swirling amber liquid in a crystal chalice.
Kiva’s eyes narrowed and she bit her tongue to keep from saying anything that might get her tossed into his dungeon. “Where’s Zuleeka?” she asked.
Navok didn’t answer.
The bare skin on Kiva’s back was beginning to feel unpleasantly warm, but she remained in place, ignoring the crackling flames behind her. Unable to bear his silence, she pressed, “Can I speak with her?”
That elicited a reaction from Navok, his lips curling with amusement. “The last time you encountered your sister, she banished you to Zalindov. Are you so keen for a rematch?”
Kiva crossed her arms, before realizing the move only amplified her cleavage, so she quickly returned them to her sides. “I’m here now, aren’t I? She had your guards drag me out of prison for your wedding, and I’d like to know why.”
Navok tilted his head to the side, and repeated, “My wedding?”
“Yours and Zuleeka’s,” Kiva said, growing impatient. Unable to rein in her sarcasm, she added, “Congratulations, you’ve found yourself a real catch. When’s the happy day?”
A bark of laughter left the king, the sound causing alarm bells to ring in Kiva’s ears. He placed his chalice on the stand beside his seat and rose gracefully, striding forward until he was right in front of her. She fought the urge to back away, partly because she didn’t want to seem cowed, and partly because she had nowhere to go, the fireplace blocking her escape.
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Navok said, his eyes bright with mirth. “You really have no idea.”
The alarm bells grew louder, until they were all Kiva could hear. “Tell me what?” she managed to ask, some part of her already knowing, even if she couldn’t believe it — didn’t want to believe it.