“The moon is smiling. We have to smile with it,” Kiva slurred, stumbling after him. And then into him, when he stopped suddenly. “Oops,” she said, giggling. “We bumped.”
From one blink to the next, Jaren was directly in front of her, his face mere inches away, his blue-gold eyes right there as he examined her closely.
“Beautiful,” Kiva whispered, reaching out to touch him.
He jerked backwards before her hand could make contact, his gaze slitting with realization. “Are you high?”
Kiva peered upward at the tall sandstone buildings. “High,” she said, pointing. “Very high.”
Jaren cursed loudly. “I can’t believe you. After everything —” He bit out another curse, then grabbed her arm again. “Come on. We found Tipp back with the Mystican — he’s fine. Everyone’s headed to the palace.”
“Not the right palace,” Kiva said, tripping as Jaren guided her along the dark street, the festival noises fading behind them. “The River Palace is the right palace. The River Palace is home.”
His fingers tightened, as if he was surprised. It didn’t hurt, but it reminded her of something.
“You shouldn’t touch me. No, that’s not right. I shouldn’t touch you.” Her face scrunched before clearing again, a triumphant cry leaving her as she said, “You don’t want me to touch you. That’s it.”
“Quiet, Kiva,” Jaren said in a hard voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Angry again.” Kiva blew out a breath. “I’m always making you angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Jaren stated, leading her down another alleyway. “I’m livid. What were you thinking, taking — what was it? Silverwish? Bloodwraith?” He leaned closer and sniffed, before edging back again and saying with clear disgust, “Angeldust. Unbelievable.”
Everything was swirling around Kiva, the colorful scarves like fluorescent bats flapping their wings. Something on the ground caught her attention, and she clapped gleefully. “Happy kitty!”
Jaren tugged her back before she could try to pet it. “That’s a dead rat.”
Kiva pouted as he pulled her away. “Sad kitty.”
“Everworld help me,” Jaren muttered.
“I’m tired,” Kiva said, and right there in the middle of the dirty, dark alley, she folded her knees and collapsed. When Jaren swore again, she squinted up at him and noted, “You curse a lot more now than you used to.”
“I wonder why,” he said under his breath.
The next thing Kiva knew, she was in his arms, with him striding quickly through the darkness.
“So strong.” She sighed contentedly and nuzzled her face into his neck. “So perfect.”
His arms tensed around her, but he didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, his familiar scent loosening something deep inside her that not even the angeldust could soothe.
“Miss you,” Kiva whispered against his skin, causing his tension to grow. “So much.”
From that point on, time held no meaning for her, the drug distorting everything she knew, until she became aware of other people around them, and a room that was way too blue. She tried to focus again just as she was lowered onto something soft, with her arms being pried away from their death grip on Jaren.
“No,” she whined. “Come back.”
He ignored her and stepped away as the others came into view, their voices reaching Kiva as if from a dream.
“What do you mean, she’s high?” Caldon demanded.
“Come on, Tipp,” Naari murmured, “let’s go look for King Sibley’s kitchens. I could use a midnight snack.”
“But Kiva —” Tipp started, until Jaren quietly interrupted, “She won’t want you to see this, buddy.”
Cresta, meanwhile, was swearing loud enough to be heard in Evalon.
Kiva was vaguely aware of Naari leading Tipp out of their suite, but her own eyes remained locked — blurrily — on the ex-quarrier. “I had to do it,” she slurred. “I didn’t have a choice.” She laughed. “Well, I did. But I didn’t.”
“What’s she on about?” Caldon asked.
“She’s been rambling nonsense ever since I found her,” Jaren said, his tone still bristling with irritation. “You won’t get anything out of her — she needs to sleep it off.”
“This isn’t like her,” Caldon defended Kiva. “Something must have —”
“Shut up, both of you,” Cresta snapped at them. “You have no idea what she —”
“NO!” Kiva shouted, sitting up, the room tilting around her. The spike of panic left as quickly as it had arrived, but she remained cognizant enough to say, “Don’t tell them.”
“You can shut up, too,” Cresta said, pushing Kiva back down and crouching in front of her. “I got you through withdrawal once, I’ll damn well do it again. But as a so-called healer, you should have known better than to dabble with angeldust when you barely survived your last addiction.”
“I didn’t want —”
“What are you talking about?” Jaren spoke over Kiva, his eyes no longer filled with fury, but dangerously alert. Caldon, too, had stilled at his side. “She’s never used angeldust before.”
“That was true, until her psychopath of a sister — and yours, for that matter — ordered that she be kept drugged for the whole journey from Vallenia to Zalindov,” Cresta shared bluntly. “She was so addicted when she arrived that it took weeks for her to function again. I still have nightmares about her screaming at me to put her out of her misery. And given how rabid she was, I’m not ashamed to admit I considered it.”
Both Jaren and Caldon looked as if they’d been slapped.
Some part of Kiva was feeling panicked again, but the angeldust quickly numbed her distress. She decided the best thing to do was ignore them both and speak directly to Cresta, which she did, slurring, “Don’t worry, I didn’t take much.” She then yawned loudly and snuggled down into the couch, exhaustion combining with the drug to lull her into a perfectly relaxed state. Her eyes closed, and since she could no longer see anyone, she promptly forgot that the two princes were in the room, continuing to speak only to Cresta as she explained, “I had to do it or the pretty mind reader would have made me kiss Jaren. That was the payment she wanted — I had to face one of my two fears: him or angeldust. I didn’t want to take it. It nearly killed me last time. But Jaren hates me. He would have only hated me more if I’d kissed him.”
She rolled onto her side, unaware of the dead silence now ringing in the room.
Kiva’s thoughts were scattered as she mumbled, “I didn’t even get to tell him about Kerrin. I saw him die, did you know? My little brother — he was only five, and he was killed by the Royal Guard. Captain Veris held me back, so I didn’t have a chance to heal him. I didn’t know I could throw my magic then. If I’d known, I could have saved him.” Kiva yawned again. “I like Captain Veris. I shouldn’t, but I do. I shouldn’t like Jaren, either. Or Caldon. Or Ashlyn. Or any of them. But they’re all very likable. You feel the same — I can tell. Even if you don’t want to. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe it goes against your churlish Mirraven nature.” Kiva snickered. “Churlish. That’s a funny word.”