“They only drugged us to get us into the arena,” she said after downing half the liquid. “We’ve already earned what we came for. They have no reason to cause us further harm — and their own laws forbid it.” She tipped back the rest of her drink and then refilled it. “It’s safe. All of it.”
That was all Tipp needed to hear before he bounded over and began stuffing his mouth, while the others followed more slowly.
Watching them, a wave of exhaustion hit Kiva, a delayed response to the magic she’d just used — or from everything else she’d endured that day. Rather than join her friends, she slipped through the nearest door and entered the bedroom beyond. Like the common room, it was bright and luxurious, with afternoon sunshine streaming in through curtains, which she quickly closed, plunging the space into darkness. Only then did she sink onto the heavily cushioned bed and curl into a ball, wishing she could remember the feeling of Tipp’s arms around her, but instead only recalling the life leaving the golden warrior’s eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
Kiva had no idea how she made it through the feast that night.
The hours passed in a blur of bright colors and upbeat music, of spicy foods and boisterous laughter. The kings were in their element, hosting hundreds of their peers in the palace’s massive banquet hall, which was lined with food-laden tables and decorated with strings of luminium lights overhead, like a starry expanse twinkling across the high ceiling.
As the guests of honor, Kiva and her friends were seated with the twins and their Royal Council at the head table. They’d all managed to bathe before their guard escort had arrived, with no traces of travel grime or arena blood left to be seen — even if Kiva still felt as if it stained her hands. The outfits they’d been given were spotless, with Ashlyn, Cresta, Naari, and Kiva all wearing billowing long skirts and floaty off-the-shoulder tops, while Jaren, Caldon, and Tipp wore trousers and open-collared shirts made of a thin flaxen material. Tipp’s clothes were bright orange, which clashed terribly with his hair, but Caldon’s were an attractive forest green, and Jaren’s were a deep navy, which had effectively stolen Kiva’s breath when she’d first seen him. She herself was dressed in an attention-grabbing turquoise, but every time she felt self-conscious, she only had to look at Cresta scowling in her bright pink outfit to realize she could have been allocated something much worse.
When finally — finally — the kings stood and quieted their guests, Kiva nearly wept, because without further ado, they handed a small leather pouch to Jaren. Thembi raised his chalice and gave a congratulatory speech, but Kiva didn’t hear him, her focus solely on Jaren as he opened the pouch to reveal a gold ring topped with an obnoxiously large ruby.
The fire ring.
One down, three to go, Kiva thought, overwhelmed by all that was still ahead. But she reminded herself of why they were doing this: to stop Navok from possessing the Hand of the Gods and growing his magical army. And more selfishly — at least to Kiva — to get Jaren back his elemental powers.
Because maybe then he would be able to forgive her.
The rest of the feast sped by, but Kiva was on edge now that they had the ring, eager to leave and seek out the other three. She knew her friends felt the same, with Jaren, Ashlyn, and Caldon having even more reason to want to keep moving, given that their entire kingdom — and family — was currently in the hands of a psychopath. But there was nothing they could do about Zuleeka from Yirin — or Navok, for that matter — and wisdom warned that only fools would begin a journey through the harsh Jiirvan desert at night. Their departure would have to wait until morning, even if their patience was wearing thin.
When the kings finally declared the feast over, Kiva was relieved to be quickly escorted back to their quarters — and even more relieved to find Torell, Eidran, and Galdric seated on the cushions and waiting for them.
“About time you showed up,” Caldon said, dropping beside them and stretching his long legs out. “How did it go with the anomalies?”
Eidran kicked Caldon’s feet away. “It didn’t.”
The spy wasn’t known for being verbose, so Kiva looked to her brother for more information.
“We found the village,” Torell shared, “but no one would speak with us. They wouldn’t even come near us. It was like we had the plague.”
“We didn’t see any magic, either,” Galdric said, looking dispirited. “If there were any anomalies left, they were careful to hide their powers.”
“They were terrified of us,” Eidran said, running his fingers through his short dark hair. “We’d hoped to learn how Navok had convinced them to join him, but given our reception . . . the evidence is pointing to them being coerced in some way.”
Galdric looked from the spy to the Vallentis royals and said, “There are still two more settlements that I know of, in Hadris and Valorn. Maybe we’ll have more luck with those.”
Kiva hoped so. Knowing Navok’s plans and what was motivating his magical followers would go a long way in helping them strategize their next steps to protect Evalon — and Wenderall.
“What about you? Did you get the ring?” Torell asked, eyeing their well-dressed group.
In answer, Jaren stepped forward and reopened the leather pouch. He didn’t mention how they’d earned it, and Kiva was grateful. If her brother learned what they’d done in the arena — what she’d done — he would recognize the turmoil brewing within her. As it was, she’d barely been able to touch her dinner, her stomach queasy from the golden warrior’s face repeatedly coming to her mind. She’d thought taking some time away from everyone that afternoon would help her process and move on, but if anything, she only felt more guilty.
A woman was dead. Six women were dead. How was she supposed to act as if that hadn’t happened? Ashlyn, Cresta, and Naari seemed unaffected, but Kiva . . . She still didn’t know how to reconcile all she was feeling.
“That’s some rock,” Torell said, leaning in from his reclined position for a closer look.
As Galdric and Eidran did the same, Kiva took a seat beside Caldon, with Tipp coming to sit with her. He was near enough that Tor sent her a surprised look, but then his expression warmed as he realized the young boy was no longer ignoring her. That warmth quickly turned to curiosity, but Kiva shook her head, not wanting to get into it. For so many reasons.
Seconds after joining her, Tipp rested his head on Kiva’s shoulder and fiddled sleepily with the beading on her turquoise outfit, the events of the day — and their long travel hours — leaving him barely able to keep his eyes open.
She was just about to suggest they all head to bed, when Cresta approached Jaren and asked, “How do we know if Sarana’s magic is already in it?”
All eyes turned to the ruby as if it would yield an answer. Kiva thought about the amulet she still wore and how the gemstones had glowed when Jaren sent his magic into them, before they’d faded back to normal. She was tempted to pull the crest from beneath her top and see how it compared to the ring, but she stilled her hand at the last moment. There had been so many times on their journey that she’d considered returning it to Jaren, but cowardice had stopped her, fearing what he might say — and what he might remember. The amulet had protected her, but it had also protected Zuleeka, keeping her safe from Jaren’s magic and ultimately leading to his ruin. Because of that, Kiva had tried to keep it out of sight for his sake, but there had been a few moments during her vigorous morning exercises when it had bounced free of her clothes. During those times, she’d seen Jaren look at it, before clenching his jaw and turning away, proving she was right in trying to keep it hidden.