“‘Nemesis’ is a strong word,” Kiva argued weakly. Under her breath, she added, “So is ‘assclown.’”
“He lied about who he was, and it wasn’t a small lie — it was a life-changing lie, right?” Cresta pushed.
“I lied to him, too,” Kiva defended Jaren. “And my lies continued for longer — and caused much more damage.”
Cresta made a frustrated noise. “Work with me here. He lied to you, but you still forgave him. He represented everything you’d avowed to hate —”
“Avowed?” Kiva pulled a face. “Who says that?”
“— and yet,” Cresta went on, sounding like she was grinding her teeth, “you still managed to fall in love with him.”
Kiva snapped her mouth shut, pain lancing her heart.
“Don’t you think it’s possible that, if he cares for you as deeply as you do him — and from what you said, all evidence is in your favor — then maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance for you?”
“He won’t forgive me,” Kiva said, her voice raspy now. “And it hardly matters, because I’ll never see —”
“Maybe he won’t,” Cresta agreed, cutting her off. “But after what you did to him, doesn’t he deserve to have you at least try to earn his forgiveness?”
“There’s nothing I can —”
“And Naari,” Cresta went on, speaking over Kiva’s objections. “I liked her. For a guard, she was half decent.”
She was more than half decent, but Kiva didn’t correct Cresta, certain the redhead would only interrupt her again.
“Something tells me she’ll hold a mean grudge, but even when she was here, it was obvious she cared for you,” Cresta said. “Do you really think she’d want you to roll over and give up? That she’d want you leaving them to the mess you created without even attempting to make things better?”
Kiva’s throat tightened.
“And I can’t speak for the other prince, what’s-his-face —”
“Caldon,” Kiva offered quietly.
“Yeah, him,” Cresta said. “But by the sounds of it, he’s the only one who knew the truth about you, and he still stood by you, even after your sister stabbed his cousin and stole their kingdom. My guess is, it won’t take much to regain his trust, if you ever lost it in the first place.”
Kiva pressed her lips together to keep them from wobbling.
“As for your brother, I have no idea why you think you failed him — he’s the gods-damned general of the rebel forces. If anything, he failed you, by not getting you out of here.”
“He tried,” Kiva croaked, remembering how Torell had attempted to rescue her and Tilda, only to be called off by Zuleeka.
“He should have tried harder — and sooner,” Cresta said firmly, reminding Kiva that she, too, had been awaiting rebel intervention. “And beyond that, he should have figured out what that psychotic sister of yours was up to and stopped her before it was too late. Death magic? Are you kidding me with that?” Cresta made a disbelieving sound. “They say love is blind, but it’s not that blind.”
“He had no way to know she —”
“And then there’s the boy,” Cresta cut her off — again. “If no one else, you should at least fight for him. You’re all he has.”
The words cut Kiva deep. “He’s better off without me.”
“Do you really believe that?” Cresta asked.
“I lied to him.”
“You lied to everyone.” Cresta’s tone was indifferent. “We’ve already covered this. And so what? Everyone lies. I lie to you all the time, but you’re still sitting beside me.”
Kiva’s forehead scrunched. “What do you lie about?” She then added, “And it’s not like I have a choice. We’re locked in here.”
“That we can’t do anything about,” Cresta said, ignoring Kiva’s first question. “It’s out of our control. But do you know what’s not?”
“What?” Kiva asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.
“We might be stuck in the Abyss — for now — but it’s up to us how we see it. We can look at the darkness and let it consume us, or we can recognize that it’s only temporary, trusting that once it passes, the light will return,” Cresta said. “It’s all about our attitude.” She paused for a beat, then said, quieter, “You used to be a fighter, Kiva. Don’t you think your friends would want you to fight — not just for yourself, but for them? After everything, don’t you owe them that?”
There was a lump in Kiva’s throat that refused to budge. She could hear it in her voice when she forced out the words, “What does it matter? I’ll never see them again.”
“You’ve escaped Zalindov once. Nothing seems to be impossible for you.”
“I had help, though,” Kiva said. “This time, no one knows I’m in here — no one but Zuleeka and Mirryn and the transfer guards I traveled with.”
Cresta made a thoughtful sound. “I’ll admit, that does complicate things. But still, never say never.” Her clothes rustled as she moved again, then a pained moan slipped out, reminding Kiva that she was injured.
Casting her tumultuous thoughts aside, Kiva said, “Before you list all the reasons why I should prepare for a prison break, stay still for a moment and let me heal you.”
She shifted until her palms connected with Cresta’s torso, then closed her eyes, calling forth the magic in her blood. She had no training — no idea what she was doing — but for years her power had lingered just beneath the surface, always waiting for her, ready for her command. Even when she’d buried it as deep as it would go, she’d still felt it whispering to her. It was only after she’d escaped Zalindov that it had started bursting out of her uncontrollably, demanding her attention.
When she tried to summon it now, Kiva was startled to realize that she hadn’t felt the touch of her power in weeks — not since the night of the masquerade.
Opening her eyes again, she saw nothing but the blackness of the Abyss, and her body froze as her mind conjured images of Zuleeka’s shadowy magic. That same evil was inside Kiva. With a single thought, instead of healing Cresta, she could kill her.
“Is something meant to be happening?” Cresta asked impatiently.
“I —” Kiva swallowed. “I just need a second.”
Biting her cheek, she ignored the anxious sweat dotting her skin even in the chilled cell, and banished all thoughts of dark, shadowy magic tendrils. Her magic was good — it helped others, healed others. She would never use it for evil.
With a steadying inhale, Kiva summoned it again, this time feeling it stir within her. But just as a tinge of golden light began to glow from her hands, panic swept over her, and the light vanished again, leaving them in darkness once more.
In a wry voice, Cresta said, “You’ve picked a hell of a time to have performance issues.”
Shaken, Kiva replied, “I’m sorry. I think — I’m just tired. Magic takes energy, and I don’t have a lot of that these days.”