The Blood Traitor

She had survived.

Now it was time for her to live.

Feeling that settle somewhere deep within her, Kiva looked at Jaren, at her friends, at her brother, and asked, her voice thick with wonder, with hope, “What happens now?”

It was Jaren who answered, leaning in to whisper three perfect words right into her ear:

“Now, we dream.”

Cresta ambled forward, a slow, unhurried approach, but once she was before Rooke, she struck as fast as a snake, yanking his left arm toward her while pulling a dagger from her belt. In the space of a blink, she managed to carve three short, sharp lines across the back of his hand, the blood welling instantly around the Z.

“Now you’ll fit right in,” she said over his furious — and now pained — roars. To the guards, she said, “Take him away.”

“There’s one more thing,” Jaren said casually. “Your crimes against humanity mean a life term at Zalindov, but your crimes against the crown prince of Evalon” — he indicated himself — “and the new queen of Mirraven” — he indicated Cresta, who gave a middle-fingered salute — “deserve something a little extra.”

“What are you talking about?” Rooke demanded, back to anger once more.

Jaren turned to Tipp. “Would you care to do the honors?”

The young boy grinned, the look unlike anything Kiva had ever seen on his face before, with it eerily similar to the expression Cresta wore. In a loud voice, he recited, “You are h-hereby sentenced to the T-Trial by Ordeal. Should y-y-you survive, you’ll be s-set free. But should y-you fail . . .” Tipp shrugged, his grin still in place. “You know h-how that ends.”

Rooke seemed impatient for them to leave, but also aware that he was in the company of rulers from two kingdoms, and etiquette demanded that he wait before being dismissed.

That wasn’t what happened, though.

Because when Kiva reached Jaren’s side, ready to tell Ashlyn that she and Tor were good to go, Jaren stepped forward and handed a sealed letter to Rooke.

The Warden squinted at it before tearing it open and reading the contents, his dark face draining of color. “What is this?”

Kiva had never heard such a tone from him before — like he was afraid.

She looked at Jaren in question, but as she did so, she saw the smirk on Caldon’s lips, the light in Naari’s amber eyes, the satisfied expression on Ashlyn’s face, the beaming smile Tipp wore.

And Cresta . . .

There was no way to describe her wicked glee.

“Alabastor Rooke,” Jaren said, and Kiva stilled at his rarely heard princely voice, “you have been found guilty of crimes against humanity, including, but not limited to, mass genocide. You are hereby stripped of your position as Warden and sentenced to a life term at the very prison in which you committed those crimes.”

Kiva’s breathing turned shallow, disbelief thrumming through her veins.

At Jaren’s signal, Rooke’s own guards stepped forward, causing the Warden’s eyes to flash and narrow.

“You can’t do this,” he spat. “I don’t take orders from Evalon — I answer to all eight kingdoms. You don’t have the power to —”

“He didn’t,” Cresta cut Rooke off, “but since we recently thwarted a tyrant’s plans to conquer all of Wenderall, the rulers of the other kingdoms are, shall we say, grateful.” Her wicked delight grew as she shared, “It was no trouble to ask them each for a favor.” She nodded to the parchment Rooke was clenching in his fist. “All their signatures are there. You can see for yourself.”

He didn’t look down, having already read the page.

“You can’t do this,” he said again, but this time, his anger had reverted to fear.

“We can, and we have,” Cresta said, enjoying herself way too much.

Kiva was still frozen, hardly daring to believe what was happening, that Rooke was finally going to see justice for what he’d done, for all the people he’d killed — including her father.

In a whisper, Kiva shared all of that with Jaren, finishing quietly with, “I can live with not having magic. But I wouldn’t have been able to live with knowing you’d lost yours again — and everything you would have lost with it.”

The look in Jaren’s eyes caused the breath to catch in Kiva’s lungs. But she pushed through it to add, “And besides, my magic didn’t make me a healer, just as it won’t stop me from becoming a better one.”

Jaren understood her meaning immediately, and rasped out, “Does that mean you’re going to take Maddis up on her offer to study here?”

Kiva reached out to trace her fingers over his lips. “I have a few reasons to want to stay in Vallenia. I suppose that can be one of them.”

The uncertainty and worry faded from Jaren’s expression, his eyes dancing as he said, “A few reasons, huh?”

Kiva leaned up and, ignoring the pinch of pain in her stomach, touched her mouth to his. “At least one.”

The early morning sunshine woke Kiva, and just like the last two times she’d regained consciousness, she wasn’t alone in her room. But this time there were two people with her, one on the chair — Tipp, who was snoring loudly — and one on the bed beside her, holding her close.

Kiva snuggled into Jaren, breathing in his fresh, elemental scent, her heart feeling full. He stirred when he felt her move, his eyes opening slowly before his chin dipped down to look at her.

In a sleep-husky voice, he said, quiet enough to keep from rousing Tipp, “You’re awake.”

Kiva smiled and teased, “Or maybe you’re dreaming.”

His fingers whispered across her cheekbone, his touch so incredibly tender as he said, “Oh, I’m definitely dreaming.” He pressed the softest of kisses to her temple, before capturing her gaze and saying, “You scared me.”

Kiva felt the pain in his voice, the fear he couldn’t hide, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“What you did —”

“I’d do it again.”

He tensed against her.

“In a heartbeat,” she said, needing him to see how serious she was.

“Does that mean you’ll be open to frequent Vallentis guests?” Kiva asked, knowing Jaren and the others would still want to see Mirryn, regardless of her betrayal. But as soon as the words left her mouth, Kiva’s thoughts jumped away from the princess, and she couldn’t help cocking her head and adding, “Perhaps a certain handsome prince?”

Cresta brushed invisible lint off her shoulder. “I’ll maybe allow Jaren to visit, especially if you can be bothered to get off your lazy ass to come and see me.”

Kiva’s heart warmed as she read into Cresta’s comment, knowing it was her not-so-subtle way of saying that nothing about their friendship would change, even if they weren’t with each other every day. But she stayed on task to say, “I’m talking about a different handsome prince.”

Cresta wrinkled her nose. “Oriel is a bit young, don’t you think?”

Kiva huffed out a laugh, which she immediately regretted, pain flaring along her torso. She gritted her teeth through it, and said, “You know who I’m talking about.”

There was a pause, before Cresta answered, “I suppose Caldon can visit. Assuming his head will fit through the castle gates.”

Another laugh left Kiva against her will, and she had to bite back a whimper this time, before managing to say, “You two have such a strange relationship.”

“‘Relationship’ is a very strong word for what we have.” Cresta smirked wickedly. But then she said, almost in warning, “I don’t know what the future will bring for us. Things are more complicated now than before. But —” She looked down at the bed, before meeting Kiva’s eyes again and saying, her voice softer, “We’ll see.”

That was more than Kiva had expected her to admit, so she smiled and replied, “That’s good enough for me.”

“Serafine will help you,” Kiva said, certain the compassionate princess wouldn’t leave her sister to the wolves.

“I’m counting on it, especially since one of the first things I’ll have to do is reach out to Caramor and fix the mess Nav created with them,” Cresta said, looking frustrated at the very thought.

Kiva’s eyes rounded. “You’re not going to make Sera marry —”

“Gods, of course not,” Cresta said quickly. “But she and Vosh have been friends since they were babes. If anyone can soothe Caramor’s ruffled feathers, it’s Sera. And Mirryn is going to help, too — she’s had a lifetime of scheming and politics, which will undoubtedly come in handy where we’re going, even if I’ll always have to watch my back around her.” In a mutter, she added, “Everworld knows what my sister sees in her.”

“Wait,” Kiva said. “Mirryn’s going with you?”

Cresta frowned. “Didn’t Jaren tell you?”

Kiva indicated her room, grimacing when the move tugged at her stomach again. “I haven’t seen him.”

Cresta looked hesitant, but shared, “The Royal Council charged Mirryn with treason.”

Kiva stilled. “But she —”

“They’re aware that she had a change of heart and tried to make amends, but they said they needed to set an example,” Cresta explained. “Serafine begged me to do something, so I suggested exile as the punishment.” She shrugged like it was nothing to her, and finished, “So yes, Mirryn is coming with us to Mirraven. And staying there.”

Relief hit Kiva — for Mirryn, but also for her family. The Royal Council could have sentenced the princess to death; exile wasn’t ideal, but at least she would still be breathing.

For a long moment, Kiva and Cresta just looked at each other.

And then Kiva said, “If you want me to bow, you’re going to have to help me up.”

Cresta’s relief was visible, with her slumping down into the chair beside the bed, a weighty breath leaving her as she said, “I think that terrifying healer woman will march in here and drag me out if you move so much as an inch.”

Kiva’s lips twitched at the thought of Cresta — fierce ex-quarrier, now-queen Cresta — being afraid of Healer Maddis.

“I think you can handle her,” she replied, shifting slightly, then wincing at the pain.

Another long pause fell between them, before Cresta sighed and said, “I wanted to tell you.” She pressed her lips together. “No, that’s a lie. I didn’t want anyone to know, because I never intended to do anything about it.” She pulled her tangled red locks away from her face and admitted, “I knew I wanted to save Serafine, to protect her — that was always my intention. But I didn’t have to challenge Navok to do that.”

“Then why did you?”

“It’s your fault,” Cresta said, suddenly scowling. “You and the stupid angeldust.”

Kiva’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“In Ersa.” Cresta pitched her voice higher to mimic Kiva. “You’re a good friend, Cresta. I’m sorry you lost your family, but I’m glad you’re a part of ours now. I hated you for saying that, because you made me realize it was true. I’d tried to keep you all at a distance, but I’d failed.” Her scowl deepened. “Before that, I didn’t give a damn about the Vallentis family. Or Evalon, for that matter. But getting to know you all — you made it impossible for me not to care. And when I realized that my own brother was hellbent on using you and killing them, I knew I couldn’t just sit by and let that happen.” Her scowl faded into a guilty look as she confessed, “I didn’t know for sure until I saw him on the bridge, though. That was when I realized that even if I had no idea what I was doing, Mirraven would still be better off ruled by anyone but him.”

“For what it’s worth,” Kiva said quietly, “I think you’ll make a great queen.”

Cresta scrubbed a hand over her face. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Cresta — she’s —”

“A Kildarion?” Caldon said, his grin widening. “That was a delicious little secret to keep, let me tell you.”

Kiva gaped at him. “You knew?”

He rolled his eyes. “When are you going to realize that I know everything?”

“But — how?” she spluttered. “And why didn’t you say something?”

“Firstly,” he said, “it wasn’t my secret to share.” His pointed look made Kiva bite her lip in acknowledgment of the secrets he’d kept for her. Then he went on, “And to be fair, I didn’t know at first. There was always something familiar about her, something I couldn’t put my finger on, but I only started piecing it together partway through our travels. The way she moved, the way she looked . . . How some of the foreign rulers reacted to seeing her, as if they couldn’t figure where they might have known her from, her family resemblance subtle but enough to trigger interest.” He snorted and added, “Never mind that she’s fluent in more languages than I am, and she fights like she was born with a blade in her hand.”