Chapter Twenty-Five
True to her plan, Kiva managed to stay clear of Jaren for the next few days, spending most of her hours training on the upper deck with Caldon and even Ashlyn — the latter who, after imbuing the topaz ring with her power, had filled the amulet with both wind and earth magic. When the princess wasn’t attacking Kiva, she divided her attention between propelling the boat forward and practicing her windfunneling, capable now of relocating herself from the ship to the shore and back again. She still couldn’t travel anywhere near as far as Galdric, but she didn’t have to see her destination anymore, and she was moving further with every attempt.
Kiva’s own magical training was also seeing improvements, with her no longer needing to rely on happy memories, her power coming more instinctively and rapidly than ever before. It was easiest when facing Caldon’s flames, even against Ashlyn’s boulders and vines and everything else she created with her earth element. Her wind attacks, however . . . those would have knocked Kiva straight off the boat if not for the amulet’s protection. But an invisible opponent was exactly what Kiva needed to train against, since she was determined to be as prepared as possible by their return to Vallenia. Zuleeka was waiting — and Kiva would be ready.
During the few moments when she wasn’t training, Kiva spent her time checking on the horses, exploring the boat with Tipp, and comforting Eidran — thankfully, her magic did heal seasickness, and he gratefully accepted her aid every time his nausea returned. She found that, like when they’d been riding together, she truly enjoyed being in the spy’s quiet, steadying company. It didn’t matter that she barely knew him — she had a feeling no one did, and that was how he preferred it. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a vital part of their group, or that he didn’t care for them all, in his own way. He just had a different kind of personality, prone to independence and solitude, rather than socializing just for the sake of fitting in. Too often people considered such a temperament to be strange or even rude, but Kiva saw it as a strength. Eidran knew who he was, and he embraced his autonomy with a contentment that she envied. It was effortless for her to sit with him in silence, the two of them lost in their thoughts, neither feeling the need to speak, just to be. She always left his presence more settled than when she arrived — and given how troubled she felt most of the time, that was a true gift.
The days sped by as they traveled south through the Corin Sea, swiftly closing the distance between Hadris and Valorn. The warriors in the group — Naari, Eidran, Caldon, Jaren, Ashlyn, Torell, and Cresta — dedicated their waking hours to honing their fighting skills against both physical and magical attacks, with Cresta continuing to outshine them all. When Kiva asked her one night why she trained so fiercely, her only answer was to shrug and say, “There’s always going to be someone stronger than you. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
Kiva couldn’t fault her logic, even if she felt as if there was more to it than that. Something had changed in Cresta — she was no longer an outsider silently mocking their group; she was now fully integrated into it. Kiva had even caught her teaching Tipp the best way to slice open an opponent’s femoral artery, and while Kiva hadn’t been thrilled by the lesson itself, her heart had warmed at the patient, even thoughtful interaction between them.
Galdric was another person who had found his place in the group, if not as deeply as Cresta, with him having earned their collective respect from his tireless efforts to keep them moving swiftly forward. He’d also — tentatively — offered to tell Kiva stories about her mother, but she’d turned him down, not wanting to know about her rebel life. If Tilda truly had loved Kiva the way Galdric claimed, then Kiva wanted to remember the mother she’d known as a child before Zalindov, with nothing tainting those memories. Anything else, she could ask Torell for — but only when he wasn’t spending every available second with Ashlyn. The two of them were still dancing around each other, but it was obvious to everyone where they were heading.
Kiva was happy for her brother, even if her lonely heart gave a pang of longing every time she saw the two generals together. In each instance, she carefully kept from looking at Jaren, even during the moments when she felt his eyes on her — which was occurring more and more often. Despite her determination to avoid him, he repeatedly sought her out, but by some miracle, every time he did, she was in the middle of doing something or talking with someone, keeping him from saying whatever was on his mind. It was becoming clear that he didn’t agree with her desire to maintain distance between them, and she was growing frustrated by his attempts to approach her. As far as she was concerned, they’d both said everything that needed to be said, and him now wanting to say more was only making a hard situation worse. Because of that, she did everything she could to stay away from him — for his benefit as well as hers.
Finally, after four and a half days of being cooped up together on the ship, Galdric said they were close enough to Lyras to windfunnel the rest of the way. It took some time to gather their belongings and bring their horses up onto the deck, but as soon as they were ready to leave, Captain Temi and his crew came to see them off, waving hearty goodbyes when Galdric summoned his magic and swept them from the ship.
The windfunneling was once again an unpleasant experience, and when they arrived at their destination, Kiva wobbled as her sea legs became accustomed to dry land again. Zephyr, agitated by the magic — or just owing to his waspish temperament — snapped his teeth at her, so she frowned and murmured, “Behave,” before turning her attention to the view.
Where Ersa had been a city made of dark sandstone in the midst of a blackened desert, Lyras was its polar opposite. Nestled in a sunken valley, the capital was comprised of pale buildings leading to a large, crystalline palace, all surrounded by what looked like snowcapped peaks. But Kiva knew it wasn’t ice dusting their summits — Valorn was the only kingdom in Wenderall to lay claim to entire ranges of salt mountains. Formed atop naturally shifting mineral deposits, the treacherous slopes were notorious for killing even the most intrepid of hikers, largely due to the volatile earth constantly moving and creating unplottable — and deadly — crevices.
Looking at the mountains, Kiva shivered, especially as she took in one rising above them all, its white tip pointing skyward like a beacon warning fools away.
“Those look like the m-mountains around Z-Zalindov,” Tipp said, his voice uneasy. But then he grew excited as he focused on the city and asked, “Is their p-palace made out of ice? Doesn’t it m-melt?”
“Not ice, kiddo,” Caldon said. “It’s refined salt, laced with luminium. Same for most of the buildings here. Visually, this city has no equal in all the kingdoms.”
Lyras was beautiful, for sure, but Kiva was still partial to Vallenia and its golden River Palace. She refused to consider whether that was because of the city itself, or the people who ruled it.
Ashlyn led her horse forward until she was in front of the group. “I’ve been debating whether it’s worth us seeking out the anomaly village this time,” she said, “given that we haven’t had any luck so far. But this is the last settlement Galdric heard Navok mention, so we might as well see the plan through. We’re also a lot further away from Mirraven here — the villagers might feel safer talking, especially if we tell them where we’re from.”