All the while, Navok continued slashing uselessly at Flox, who was bounding between his legs and attacking with claws and teeth, the image of which would have been hilarious if the room hadn’t been exploding around them.
Kiva realized then: the Vallentis royals had been biding their time until Tipp wasn’t at risk of Navok’s blade, and now they had been unleashed. Even against an overwhelming number of opponents, they were a force to be reckoned with, having trained their whole lives for a magical battle like this, just like —
Jaren, Kiva realized. She had to get to him. But first —
“Ariana!” Kiva cried, waving to the queen, who had been forced to the far side of the expansive room, where she was holding ground in front of the fireplace.
The monarch was surrounded though, too distracted to hear Kiva’s call.
Oriel, however, was close enough to come running, and he dove behind the piano with them, wide-eyed but still sending his magic out to help his family.
Knowing what she had to do, Kiva looked at Tipp, holding his scared eyes as she ordered, “Don’t move from this spot, do you hear me? Not until it’s safe.”
At his immediate nod, she looked to the young prince and begged, “Look after him.”
“I will,” Oriel promised solemnly, before lobbing a boulder at an anomaly who had noticed them hiding and was headed their way. The rock struck the man hard in the head, taking him off his feet — and he didn’t get up again.
Kiva didn’t linger, rising from her crouch and sprinting across the room. A gust of wind slammed into her, but it did nothing, the magic in her amulet protecting her. But then a wave of water came from one of Navok’s anomalies, crashing against her and pushing her to the ground. Mirryn was there in an instant, tugging her up and throwing out a hand, sending the anomaly flying.
“All right?” the princess asked over the sounds of shattering glass and cracking walls.
“I need to get to your mother,” Kiva choked out, drenched and coughing.
“I’ll cover you,” Mirryn said, propelling Kiva forward.
Running again, Kiva dodged as much of the magic as she could, aware that she couldn’t risk the amulet becoming depleted. Not if it was what she thought it was.
Finally arriving across the room, she sought shelter behind a crimson chaise next to the fireplace where Ariana stood tall and proud, fighting anomaly after anomaly, even as more poured into the room from the hallway.
“It was never the rings, was it?” Kiva called to her, remembering the queen’s words — Sarana knew this might happen one day — along with the single flick of Ariana’s eyes, when her gaze had moved downward for the briefest of seconds.
Toward the amulet.
“It was, once,” Ariana panted as she jumped over a whipping vine before slicing it in half with an ice blade. “But instead of giving them away, Sarana had replicas made, a dead-man’s trap should anyone seek to use them. She melted the real rings down, keeping them in our family to protect us in other ways.”
Kiva touched the amulet, her suspicions proving true: she’d been wearing the Hand of the Gods all along.
“Does it still work?” Kiva asked. She’d never once tried to push her magic into the Vallentis crest, had never even considered it. But if it wasn’t the Vallentis crest, if it really was the Hand . . .
Ariana dodged a javelin of flames and threw a spear of water back, before kneeling beside Kiva and pressing her finger to the sapphire, the gem glowing blue as she sent her magic into it, completing the protective power of all four gemstones.
Still panting, the queen said, “It will work, but only once. Sarana knew melting the real rings down would mean diminishing the Hand’s power, but she considered that safer than risking it falling into her enemy’s hands.” Ariana’s eyes held Kiva’s as she declared, “You have one chance. Make it count.”
And then the queen was up again, meeting the attacks of two more anomalies.
Kiva didn’t wait to see them fall — she was already running from the room.
You have one chance. Make it count.
The words echoed in Kiva’s ears as she bolted out the doors and along the white and gold corridor, hearing Navok’s thunderous shout as he bellowed her name. She nearly lost her footing when she realized he was chasing her, and peered over her shoulder just in time to see Xuru launch a fireball her way. It slammed into her from behind, her vision turning red and orange before the amulet sucked the flames harmlessly away.
Kiva didn’t look back again. On she ran, never slowing, not even as the fire kept coming, along with water and wind and earth from more of Navok’s personal guards. But the amulet protected her from every attack — their magic couldn’t touch her.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t scared out of her mind. But still, she ran, the entrance to the bridge coming into sight, with it extending from the same floor as the queen’s chambers, a straight shot across the river to the eastern palace.
And then there was Jaren.
Kiva could see him now, a blade in each of his hands as he held off the Gray Guards and anomalies at the highest point of the arched golden bridge. She couldn’t see Veris or Eidran, and didn’t recognize any of the other Royal Guards or black-leathered soldiers fighting alongside Jaren, though she did see Naari beyond him, nearer to the eastern palace, surrounded by a slew of gray-clad opponents.
Finally reaching the bridge, Kiva flung herself into the mess of bodies, avoiding not only the magic flying everywhere, but also the weapons. The amulet wouldn’t protect her from a blade, but she couldn’t think about that, running, running, running straight for Jaren.
And then a gap opened up, right in front of him. She screamed his name so he knew she was coming, unwilling to risk him thinking she was another attacker as she leapt through the air toward him. His eyes rounded as he caught her, stumbling backwards as her weight slammed into him, somehow managing not to stab her with either of his swords.
“Kiva — what —” he gasped.
She didn’t give him the chance to finish, yanking the amulet from her neck and slamming it against his chest, summoning her magic and pushing it through the crest.
Light, blinding light assailed her eyes, so bright she had to shut them. Liquid warmth traveled down her arm, like syrup dripping in the sun, pouring from her fingertips straight into Jaren.
A second was all it took before she felt the amulet crack beneath her hand, the light fading enough for her to reopen her eyes and see the crest broken into four parts, one for each of the gems — one for each of the rings.
You have one chance. Make it count.
The amulet’s power was gone, the Hand of the Gods no more.
But Jaren —
The gold in his eyes was blazing as he stared at her, as he realized what she’d done.
Then, with a wave of his hand, three Gray Guards that Kiva hadn’t seen leaping for them went sailing over the side of the bridge.
Jaren looked down at his palm, the wonder on his face enough for a sob to leave her.
His magic was back.
And not a minute too soon, because Navok had reached the bridge, his personal guards parting the battling opponents, their combined magic aimed right for where Kiva and Jaren stood.
Time slowed down as Kiva watched a wall of flames speed toward them, as she saw a tornado whip the Serin into a bubbling fury that rose like a death wave, as the bridge cracked and groaned under their feet. All the while, she was acutely aware that the amulet could no longer protect her.