The Blood Traitor

“Hello to you too, brother.”

“Compromise,” he bit out. “I’ll wait until they can move, then I’ll get them to the city and stash them somewhere safe — but then I’m coming to you. I don’t care what you say, you’re going to need me. And even if you don’t, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you face your sister on your own. We’re in this together, Sunshine. You and me. Got it?”

“You are who you decide to be, Kiva. Good or bad, it’s your decision.

She deserved to have him hate her, just like Jaren did.

She deserved to have him —

A finger beneath Kiva’s chin halted her wretched thoughts, her head tilting backwards until her teary eyes met Caldon’s. At the sight, his lips became a firm line, his anger growing, but then his cobalt gaze moved over her face, taking in her gaunt features, the bruise on her cheek, the devastated expression she couldn’t hide even if she tried.

Whatever he saw caused his anger to bleed away, and then he sighed, long and loud, before releasing her chin only to tug her forward and pull her tight to his frame, wrapping his arms around her.

The move caught Kiva by surprise, enough that, for a moment, she just stood there, her arms hanging listlessly by her sides.

But then she finally comprehended that Caldon was hugging her, and she couldn’t control her reaction.

Right there, at the edge of the military outpost, Kiva burst into tears.

Everything she’d been feeling for months erupted out of her, her isolation and self-hatred from her time in Zalindov, her terror and confusion from being with Navok, her uncertainty, her heartache, her shame, her guilt — all of that and more came out as she sobbed against
Caldon, her fingers clutching his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. The whole time, his hands moved soothingly on her back as he murmured, “Get it out, Sunshine. You’re all right. I’m here.”

The fact that he was calling her Sunshine only made her cry harder

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.