Before Kiva could say anything, Naari pulled her into a rough but heartfelt embrace.
“Thank you,” the guard said into her ear. She kept her hands on Kiva’s shoulders and drew back enough to meet her eyes again, her own amber gaze serious. “The fact that you’re feeling guilt is a credit to you. It means you’re human. It means you’re Kiva. But you acted in selfdefense, and in doing so, you saved my life. So instead of dwelling on what was lost, try to remember that as important as it is to mourn the dead, it’s just as important to celebrate the living.”
Naari gave Kiva’s shoulders a gentle squeeze and whispered, “I will grieve for the six warriors we killed, but I will not regret what we did. Because if they had succeeded, then we would all be dead.” She gave one final squeeze before releasing Kiva. “Those women would be the first to applaud the courage you showed today. They undertook the Arzavaar knowing what they risked, and they died with honor, just as they would have wanted. They are at peace — now and forever. So when the nightmares come, think about that. And if you can’t . . .” Naari’s lips tipped up in the slightest of smiles, that expression more than anything else telling Kiva that the guard had forgiven her. “Come and wake me. I’ll battle your demons for you.”
On that profound note, Naari turned and left the room.
Long minutes passed as Kiva stared at the closed door, mentally replaying their conversation. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if they were from grief or joy.
Tipp had forgiven her, and now Naari, too.
Kiva let that sink deep before wiping her face and leaving the window, curling up in bed once more. This time, sleep came swiftly.
So did the nightmares.
But every time she woke, she remembered Naari’s words, how those women — including the golden warrior — had known the risks and were now at peace.
Holding on to that, Kiva soon felt her nightmares fading, their power dissolving as perspective allowed her to accept what had happened, and her role in it.
Only then did she drift off one final time, her mind finally at rest.
Chapter Eighteen
The next few days passed in a haze of blistering sun and windswept sand as their group set out across the desert. They stayed close to the coastline to take advantage of the ocean breeze, only moving inland when the cliffside path became too hazardous for the horses.
Every morning, Kiva continued to work with Caldon, first on her physical strength and then on her magic. He was methodical in making her relive every single moment of the arena battle, showing her a range of self-defense moves she could have used in a multiple-opponent scenario, ignoring her claims that she’d never be in that situation again. Or she hoped not. She might have come to terms with what had happened, thanks to Naari’s intervention, but the golden warrior remained in her thoughts. Kiva doubted she would ever fully disappear — that was the consequence of taking a life, a burden to live with forever.
On the magical side of things, Kiva was becoming increasingly jealous of Ashlyn, who was seeing vast improvements in her windfunneling. She was now able to transport herself to any point she could see in the distance, even if she’d yet to manage anywhere outside of view. But Galdric was impressed by how quickly she was learning. Conversely, Kiva’s attempts to throw her own power outward continued to fizzle into nothing.
Despite how effortless it had been for her to heal Naari after the Arzavaar — and to extend that healing to Ashlyn and Cresta without having to touch them — Kiva had seen little success since then. Her magic was temperamental at best, and causing her no small amount of frustration.
On the third day after they’d left Yirin, the pressure finally got to her enough that, mid-training, she threw her hands in the air and cried, “It’s useless! I’m never going to be able to do what Zuleeka does!”
“That’s actually the opposite of what we want,” Caldon said dryly. “Death magic, bad. Remember?”
Kiva scowled and kicked at the sand. “Don’t try to be funny when I’m upset.”
Straight-faced, he said, “There’s nothing funny about death magic. That’s some dark humor you’re into, Sunshine.” He then cracked a smile and nudged her in the ribs, saying, “Lighten up, Sweet Cheeks. No one expects you to learn everything in a day.”
Maybe not, but they clearly wished she’d learn faster than her current speed. She might as well not have magic, for all the progress she was making.
Sighing, Kiva stared across the seemingly endless sand dunes, the early morning sun hinting that the day would be another scorcher. They’d found a small oasis to camp beside overnight, the watering hole narrow but bordered by enough shrubbery that they’d each been able to wash the sweat and dirt off their bodies with a modicum of privacy. Kiva had felt nearly human for the first time in four days when she’d awoken that morning, but now her growing irritation was sabotaging her mood.
In a miserable voice, she said, “I just don’t know how to do it. It’s so instinctive to release my magic when I’m touching someone who’s hurt. But the rest of the time?” She shook her head and looked down at the sand. “Galdric says my mother thought I was strong, but I don’t feel strong. All I feel is scared.”
Gently, Caldon repeated, “Scared?”
“That I’m going to fail you all,” Kiva admitted softly. “I know you’re all relying on me being able to stop Zuleeka, but what if I can’t? What if all the training in the world won’t prepare me for her? I’m already struggling so much just to summon my magic, so what if —”
“Close your eyes.”
Kiva jolted at Jaren’s quiet order and spun to see him walking toward her, his hair damp and his skin flushed from his workout. Naari had been sparring with him, but she’d now joined Eidran and Cresta in a three-way match, while Ashlyn, having finished with Galdric for the day, was wrestling with Torell.
For the briefest of moments, Kiva watched her brother, seeing the wide grin on his face as Ashlyn tackled him, the two of them tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs, laughing freely. Kiva hadn’t had a chance to ask him yet, but there was definitely a spark between them — even Caldon had noticed, grumbling about how his sister always stole the good ones. But Kiva had a feeling Caldon had already turned his affections elsewhere, to a certain redheaded ex-quarrier, even if they spent as much time ignoring each other as they did flirting. The tension between them was growing uncomfortable for the rest of the group — but Kiva could hardly talk, given the tension she herself felt toward a certain crown prince.
The same crown prince who was now standing before her, waiting for her to obey his command.
“Pardon?” Kiva asked, her chest suddenly tight.
She expected to see impatience, even anger, but his gaze was steady as he repeated, “Close your eyes, Kiva.”
The way he said her name made her feel as if gentle fingers were trailing down her spine, causing her to shiver. “Close my . . . eyes?” she asked, somewhat breathily and definitely dazed. He was so close — closer than he’d willfully been to her in the time since they’d been reunited.
“You said you’re struggling to summon your power,” he stated, apparently having heard her outburst to Caldon. That was mortifying, and she fought the blush wanting to stain her cheeks. “You also said we’re relying on you — and you’re right, we are.”