Now that she was thinking about it, Kiva almost felt as if the amulet was burning against her chest, but she resisted the urge to draw attention to it. She did, however, wonder if perhaps the ring was similar in that it would glow only when magic was pushed into it, not the rest of the time.
Seeming to be of the same mind as Kiva, Jaren finally answered, “There’s no way to know for sure.” He handed the pouch to Caldon. “Better safe than sorry.”
Caldon looked from the ring to his cousin and back again. “Shouldn’t we wait until we have all four?”
It was Galdric who answered, “If something happens and we’re separated, it’s smarter to have it ready for use, especially if Sarana’s power isn’t already imbued in it. Between you” — he nodded toward Caldon — “and the princess” — a nod toward Ashlyn this time — “you command three of the four elements. If you send your fire magic into it now, it leaves less room for chance when the time comes for Kiva to wield the full Hand.”
Butterflies fluttered in Kiva’s middle at the pressure of what she alone would have to do, but her attention was diverted when Caldon accepted Galdric’s reasoning and fished the ring out of the pouch. He touched his finger to the red gemstone, a rare look of concentration on his face. Instantly, the ruby began to glow, pulling Kiva back to the night when Jaren had gifted her the amulet, right after his mother’s attack. As the glow faded from the ring, she wondered if he was also remembering that tender moment between them. There was a stiffness in his frame that made her think he might have been, particularly since he seemed determined to avoid her eyes.
Once the ruby was no longer alight, Caldon placed the ring back in the pouch and returned it to Jaren, who tucked it away for safekeeping.
“That was anticlimactic,” Cresta said.
“After today, do you really need more excitement?” Caldon asked, incredulous.
“That depends on the kind of excitement,” Cresta shot back, along with a suggestive wink that prompted a surprised but undeniably wicked grin from him.
Kiva groaned and was tempted to tell them to keep ten feet apart, but before she could, Torell spoke.
“What happened today?” he asked, sitting up straighter, his brow furrowing in concern.
“Nothing,” Kiva answered quickly, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Thembi and Ryuu are just drama queens. Drama kings, even.” She attempted a laugh, but it was forced and panicked. Thank the gods for Tipp who, at that exact moment, revealed he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder by uttering a loud snuffle-snore.
“It’s been a long day, for all of us,” Ashlyn said, quiet enough not wake him. “Given how much the kings imbibed tonight, we should be able to sneak away before they awaken. But we should also aim to leave early, just in case.”
They set a plan, agreeing to meet in the common room at dawn to begin their journey to Hadris. Kiva was just about to ask someone to help her move Tipp to a bed, but Jaren was already striding toward her and reaching down for the boy. His hand grazed Kiva’s waist as he sought to get a secure grip, their eyes meeting for a split second. Even knowing his touch was accidental, she felt the world stop as they stared at each other, but then he glanced away, a muscle bunching in his cheek. He then lifted Tipp with ease and carried him away, not looking back.
Kiva’s heart was racing and her face was warm. Aware of everyone looking at her, she quickly cleared her throat before bidding them a good night, almost running to the safety of her bedroom.
But as soon as she was alone, her thoughts invaded. Even after changing into a Jiirvan nightgown and crawling into bed, she couldn’t settle her mind enough to sleep, despite knowing she needed to rest before their early departure.
Tossing and turning, Kiva finally gave up and headed over to her window, drawing back the curtains to look out at the luminium-lit city. The giant statues caught her eyes, their fighting poses reminding her all too much of the women in the arena, the golden warrior’s face now permanently embedded into her thoughts.
A quiet knock had Kiva turning toward the door. For one heart-stopping moment, she wondered if it was Jaren, before remembering that the days of him coming to comfort her were long gone.
Instead, the person who opened the door surprised Kiva almost as much — because it was Naari.
The guard said nothing after letting herself into the room, but she walked straight to Kiva’s side, the two of them staring silently out at the city. Kiva didn’t know what to think, her pulse skittering as the minutes trickled by. But then Naari spoke.
“The first time I killed someone, I vomited for hours afterward.”
Kiva turned woodenly to the guard.
“I was chosen by the Rakavan when I was ten years old,” Naari continued. “It meant so much to my family, and at that age, all I wanted was to please them, so I accepted the invitation to begin training. I showed enough promise that I was brought here, to Yirin. At fifteen, during my first arena battle, I killed two girls, both friends who I’d trained beside for years.”
Kiva’s heart clenched. She balled her hands to keep from reaching out and offering comfort, still unsure where she and the guard stood.
“Kill or be killed — that’s what I told you today,” Naari said quietly. “That’s how I lived, day after day, every time I entered that arena and had to face someone I cared about, seeing the same resolution in their eyes as they tried to strike me down first, all for riches and glory and — and honor.”
The word came out broken. Naari hugged her elbows, lost in memory. “It was destroying me — I could feel it. I couldn’t stomach the thought of nominating for the Arzavaar, not after everything they’d taken from me. Everything I’d given them. But I also knew I wouldn’t survive much longer. I was strong. I was fast. I was good at killing people. But . . . seeing the life leave their eyes, it never got easier. It never does.” She inhaled deeply. “So I fled. I was a capable warrior, but I was still young, and my name wasn’t widely known, so I was confident I could disappear without notice, saving my family from dishonor — and I was right. It took weeks of running and looking over my shoulder, but no one came after me, and I finally made my way back to the village where I grew up. But then my family —”
She closed her eyes slowly, her voice hoarse when she shared, “They couldn’t abide having what they considered a coward for a daughter. They turned their backs on me, and their abandonment forced me into a different kind of survival.” She paused to collect herself, then said, “You know what happened next — I found my way to Ersa and snuck onto Captain Veris’s ship, sailing with him to Vallenia and eventually ending up in the Royal Guard. But those other details, everything I just told you . . . no one knows. Not even Jaren.”
Kiva’s throat was so dry that she couldn’t speak, but Naari turned and saw the question in her eyes, the desperation to know why she’d shared such a personal story.
Holding Kiva’s gaze, Naari said, her voice low and full of emotion, “I know what happened today was hard on you. I know you killed that woman to save me, and I know it’s eating at you.”
Kiva tensed as the golden warrior flashed before her eyes once more.
“As mad as I am at you for all the lies and the betrayals,” Naari went on, causing Kiva to brace, “I also know that the only reason I’m standing here is because of you.”