The Gilded Cage

Just as she was turning away, he called out to her.

“You say you became the darkness, that it consumed you,” he said, his cobalt eyes soft on hers, “but I call bull on that. I’ve never met anyone who shines as brightly as you do.”

And with that unexpected — and profound — compliment, he walked away, leaving her fighting back tears as she stood there in stunned, heartfelt silence.

“I won’t tell you not to do it again,” he whispered. “I won’t trap you here. But please, it would mean a lot if you could tell someone where you’re going next time.”

Kiva nodded against his chest, unable to lie to his face, his generous understanding prompting a sharp pain within her.

This was the Jaren that she hated.

Because this was the Jaren that she — that she —

Kiva didn’t finish the thought, refusing to admit how deeply she’d come to care for him.

“I didn’t ask you to look for me.” The words left Kiva before she could stop them.

“What part of this aren’t you understanding?” Caldon growled, his ire rising anew. “We care about you, Kiva. Ignoring that you deliberately kept me from coming with you — which I would have done in a heartbeat, as you damned well know — when you didn’t return, we thought something had happened to you. Do you have any idea how that feels, to know someone you care about is missing, possibly in danger, and you don’t know how to find them?”

The tears welling in Kiva’s eyes weren’t fake this time.

Caldon had lost both his parents after a storm had hit. He’d had no way to find them, or to know if they were still alive.

There were too many parallels with what Kiva had put him through that afternoon, unintentionally making him relive the worst moments of his life.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice breaking on the words.

Her emotion didn’t sway Caldon. “Saying sorry doesn’t change what you did. I can’t even stand to look at you right now.” True to his word, he turned his fiery glare to Jaren and demanded, “Come find me later.”

He didn’t wait for his cousin to agree before storming out of the room.

Kiva stared after him, feeling numb.

“He’ll come around. Give him time.”

Turning slowly, Kiva faced Jaren again, the breath leaving her when she found his expression no longer closed, but flooded with everything he’d felt while she’d been gone. Fear, dread, desperation. And relief — so much relief that she was safe.

Her knees wobbled at the knowledge of how much power she held over him.

. . . And at the knowledge of how much, with a single look, he held over her.

Caldon finally snapped, pointing a finger at her face and demanding, “Where the hell have you been?”

“I —”

“You were abducted barely a week ago!” he interrupted loudly. “You don’t go wandering off on your own, and you certainly don’t leave the city for any reason, least of all to see your siblings who haven’t cared a whit about you for a decade. Gods, Kiva, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Being Torvin’s descendant doesn’t automatically make her evil. You turned out all right,” Bretwalda said kindly, patting Delora’s wrinkly hand.

Well, that answered that question.

Though . . . Kiva didn’t understand why she’d associated Torvin with evil. He’d spent his life healing people. They’d loved him so much that Sarana had grown jealous enough to try and kill him — her own husband — forcing him to abandon the throne and flee to safety. If anyone was evil, it was Sarana, not Torvin.

When Kiva woke the next morning, she was in her bed, the blankets snug around her. She cast her mind back and realized Jaren must have carried her to her room and tucked her into bed.

A mortified groan left her

“There’s nothing you can do?”

Shaking his head, Jaren said, “We’ve tried everything. Now we just keep him as comfortable as possible.”

Seeing the raw pain on his face, Kiva erased the last of the distance between them, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his stomach, being careful not to dislodge Flox. She knew it wasn’t wise, that she should keep her distance, physically and emotionally.

She knew — but she didn’t care.

Not when Jaren was upset.

Not when he needed her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

In response, he placed a soft kiss on her temple.

Silence fell between them, long enough for Kiva to decide it was time to return to her room. But just as she was about to do so, her eyes drifted shut and she descended into sleep.

It was true — she was like her father. She had his healer’s heart, his compassion for people, and, long ago, she’d also had his eternal optimism.

But then Zalindov had happened.

And Faran had been taken from her.

In all the time since then, she’d become so obsessed with vengeance that she hadn’t stopped to think about what he would have wanted. For her. For their family.

Or perhaps she hadn’t considered it because she already knew the answer.

Faran would have wanted them to forgive, and to move on. He would have wanted them to chase their dreams, to be happy, to live.

He wouldn’t have wanted them bent on revenge.

He would have just wanted them safe.

And deep down, Kiva knew he would be turning in his grave if he knew what his children were up to.

“Something is stirring up north,” Jaren said, not quite answering. “There have always been warnings, threats, the usual. But something has changed recently, from around the time we started negotiating with Mirraven for Tilda’s transfer into our custody. They were so difficult, refusing to accept any of our terms, no matter how generous.”

That last part was news to Kiva, and she straightened beside him.

“I’ve only learned about most of this since leaving Zalindov,” he went on, “and it doesn’t make sense to me. We offered them some things they’ve wanted for a long time, including greater access to our luminium stores and looser restrictions for border crossings, both of which would hurt our economy while boosting theirs. But they weren’t interested.”

A strange feeling came over Kiva, and she flattened her free hand against her suddenly churning stomach, recalling her sister’s words from earlier that day.

King Navok was more than happy to make a deal with the Rebel Queen. In return, he only had to make it so the negotiations between kingdoms resolved with her heading to Zalindov.

Kiva had been so caught up in everything else that she hadn’t thought to question the deal Tilda had proposed in return for Mirraven turning down Evalon’s request for an extradition agreement. But now Kiva couldn’t help wondering — what had her mother offered? What had she done?

Jaren groaned as Flox leapt straight onto his lap, curled up again, and was snoring softly a moment later.

Slicing his eyes to Kiva, Jaren said, “I blame you for this.”

Biting back a laugh, she combed her fingers through Flox’s soft fur. “It’s not my fault you’re so irresistible.”

At first, Kiva didn’t realize what she’d said, but then she noticed Jaren had gone still beside her, and she mentally replayed the words.

“Irresistible, huh?” he teased, his eyes dancing.

Kiva tried to rally. It was either that or jump out the window and drown herself in the Serin. “You know — to, um, a fox thing.”

If anything, Jaren’s amusement only grew. “A fox thing?”

“Ferret? Racoon? I have no idea what he is.”

Jaren chuckled. “He’s a silverbear.”

Squinting at the dozing creature, Kiva observed, “He looks nothing like a bear.”

“I didn’t come up with the name,” Jaren said, still grinning. “They’re rare, only found in the wilds of Odon’s northern mountains. Flox was a gift from their king and queen.”

“To Oriel?”

“To me.” Sheepishly, he added, “More a bribe than anything else.”

“Let me guess,” Kiva said dryly. “They have an heir of marriageable age?”

Jaren didn’t meet her eyes, which was confirmation enough. “Ori was lonely at the time. There weren’t many kids around the palace, and Mirry, Cal, Ash, and I were all so busy with politics and training. When Flox arrived, I gave him to my brother, and they became fast friends.”

“And yet, he’s much more obsessed with you,” she noted.

“I hear it’s because I’m irresistible.”

The look Jaren sent Kiva made her want to jump out the window all over again.