Carefully, she picked her way through the shrubs and date palms toward where they’d set up the temporary pen for the horses. Halfway there, she summoned her magic, delighted to discover that the glow illuminated her path enough to avoid tripping. Soon, however, it wasn’t needed, since Tipp and Galdric were using handheld luminium lanterns as they saw to Ashlyn’s and Caldon’s newly returned mounts. Spirit was already settled and happily munching on tufts of grass, while Caldon’s mare, Fury, was impatiently waiting for Galdric to complete her rubdown.
Looking toward Tipp, Kiva saw that he’d just finished cleaning their gear and was sorting everything into neat, efficient piles. Pride welled in her as she watched him meticulously check everything over before giving a nod of satisfaction. Only then did he turn and see her, his face brightening instantly.
“K-Kiva!” he greeted her, with a gap-toothed smile. “You were r-right about that p-poultice — Whistlefoot’s swelling is a-almost completely g-g-gone!”
She returned his smile, not sharing that she’d had no idea if a treatment intended for humans would work on his beloved pony, but pleased for him nonetheless.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said. “I added extra collis bulbs, just for you.”
No one else could stand the chalky-tasting desert tuber, but Tipp was a growing boy with a stomach that would find dirt palatable as long as it filled him up.
His grin widened and he bounced over to give her a quick hug, before skipping off in the direction of the fire, calling over his shoulder, “I h-hope they left m-me some!”
Kiva was willing to bet that every single bulb would be waiting at the bottom of the pot for him, untouched by the others. She chuckled and shook her head, before looking toward the palms leading down to the watering hole, debating whether she should go and find Jaren or let him return on his own.
She still hadn’t decided when Galdric cleared his throat, drawing her eyes.
“We haven’t had much of a chance to talk,” he said, shifting from foot to foot. Fury stomped with agitation, picking up on his nerves, and he ran a soothing hand along her back.
Before Kiva could ask what Galdric wanted to discuss, a puff of air on her neck had her whipping around to find Zephyr had snuck up behind her. She eyed him warily, but instead of trying to bite her, he only nudged her with his muzzle.
“Ha,” she declared quietly, stroking his silky gray cheek. “I knew I’d grow on you.”
“That one’s a menace to groom,” Galdric stated. “I don’t think he likes anyone.”
“He’s just picky,” Kiva said, moving her hand quickly when Zephyr had enough of her affection and attempted to nip her. Clearly, there was still room for improvement in their relationship, but as Caldon had once told her, small steps were still steps.
Bored of her now, Zephyr ambled away, leaving Kiva’s full attention on Galdric.
“I know it’s not my place,” he said, “and I don’t even know if you want to hear it, but your mother —” He broke off, tugging on his beard. “She was — Your mother was —” He tried again, his voice thick. “Tilda was very dear to me. We grew close, after your father passed.” Panicked, he said, “Not like that. She loved Faran too much to give her heart to anyone else. But I —” He kept his gaze firmly on Fury as he admitted, “I couldn’t help developing those feelings for her, even knowing she’d never reciprocate them.”
Kiva stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say. Since knowing Galdric, the mother she’d thought she’d had, then lost, then realized she’d never known at all, had returned to being someone she remembered from her childhood. And yet, she still felt distance whenever she thought of Tilda. Not just from the years they’d been apart, but from all the lies and half-truths and the choices her mother had made — choices that had left Kiva alone in Zalindov for a decade.
“Did she ever tell you why she didn’t come and get me?” Kiva asked, having recently learned that she could have been freed any time before her twelfth birthday. Zuleeka had offered a flimsy excuse about how Kiva’s magic could have endangered the rebel movement, but Kiva knew there had to be more to it than that, since both Tilda and Zuleeka had been using their power that whole time.
“Ah,” Galdric said, fidgeting. “I’m afraid that might have been my fault.”
Kiva narrowed her eyes at the guilt on his face.
“You see,” he said, “I — well — I’m sorry, there’s no easy way to say this, but I told Tilda that the law allowing the release of minors didn’t apply to those accused of being rebel sympathizers. She trusted me, and I took advantage of that.” Seeing Kiva’s stricken look, he quickly added, “I thought I was protecting her. Faran was still alive then, and if she’d gone to claim you, she never would have left, knowing he was still imprisoned — she would have ended up locked in there with him. But when news of his death came a year later, I was too ashamed to admit that I’d lied. I’d already fallen in love with her, and I was so afraid that she’d —” His voice broke, his remorseful gaze meeting Kiva’s. “I’m so sorry. I won’t ask you to forgive me. But I’d hate if you went on thinking your mother to be the villain, when all she ever wanted was to love you, to protect you, to be with you. And she would have, if not for me.”
Kiva was having trouble breathing. Somehow, she managed to say, “But Zuleeka knew. She said Mother thought it was best if I stayed in —”
“Zuleeka overheard me speaking to one of the other rebel leaders about it, telling them my plans to keep Tilda safe,” Galdric explained. If anything, he only looked more ashamed. “She was so terrified of losing your mother that she readily agreed to stay quiet.”
Kiva had been seven when she’d been sent to Zalindov. Zuleeka had been eleven. They’d never been as close as Kiva had felt toward Torell, even toward her younger brother, Kerrin, but still. For Zuleeka to have cared so little about Kiva that she’d hidden how easy it would have been to free her, even — and especially — after their father had passed, made Kiva feel as if something very heavy was sitting on her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Galdric said again, whispering now. “I debated not telling you. I’ve been fighting with myself about it since long before we met. But I think — if I were you, I’d want to know. And I can’t in good conscience let you believe your mother abandoned you. She loved you, so very much. And she asked — many times — if we could stage a rescue, but I always told her it was too dangerous. And every time, I saw her heart break a little more, until the day I could no longer say no.”
“That’s when you went with her to Navok,” Kiva realized, her voice hoarse.
“Yes. But by then, she was so sick that —” Galdric stopped himself, then quietly said, “I knew our chances were slim, but I’d hoped she would at least get to see you, before . . .”
“She was blind when she arrived at Zalindov,” Kiva said, feeling numb now. “Did you know that? She didn’t get to see me, not once. And she was so delirious with fever, I don’t think she even knew who I was most of the time.”