The Gilded Cage

I want you to have it as a reminder of tonight — of everything you helped make happen. We’ll send along orders to make sure they don’t remove it with the rest of your possessions. I want you to remember, every day, until you no longer can.”

Kiva swayed on her feet, the iron bars swirling before her, every word from her sister’s mouth like a hazy, nonsensical dream.

Zuleeka gave a sharp whistle, much like she’d done in the warehouse earlier that day, then waved the angeldust pouch again and said, “This really is a gift — something to help you survive the long journey back. You won’t notice a thing, not even the passing of time.”

Zuleeka’s face was melting into colorful shapes as the hallucinogenic drug pulled Kiva into its embrace, but somehow she managed to slur a single word: “Back?”

“To Zalindov,” Zuleeka said. “I can’t have you running around helping your prince get in the way of my grand plans. Or Torell, if he doesn’t cooperate.” She leaned toward the swirling bars and whispered, her face tinged with a hint of madness, “There’s so much more happening here, so much you don’t understand. Mother was thinking too small. I won’t be making the same mistake. And I won’t risk you being free to stop me.”

I want you to have it as a reminder of tonight — of everything you helped make happen. We’ll send along orders to make sure they don’t remove it with the rest of your possessions. I want you to remember, every day, until you no longer can.”

Kiva swayed on her feet, the iron bars swirling before her, every word from her sister’s mouth like a hazy, nonsensical dream.

Zuleeka gave a sharp whistle, much like she’d done in the warehouse earlier that day, then waved the angeldust pouch again and said, “This really is a gift — something to help you survive the long journey back. You won’t notice a thing, not even the passing of time.”

Zuleeka’s face was melting into colorful shapes as the hallucinogenic drug pulled Kiva into its embrace, but somehow she managed to slur a single word: “Back?”

“To Zalindov,” Zuleeka said. “I can’t have you running around helping your prince get in the way of my grand plans. Or Torell, if he doesn’t cooperate.” She leaned toward the swirling bars and whispered, her face tinged with a hint of madness, “There’s so much more happening here, so much you don’t understand. Mother was thinking too small. I won’t be making the same mistake. And I won’t risk you being free to stop me.”

“You’re pathetic. Mother never should have bothered trying to get to you in Zalindov. But if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Mirraven in my pocket, so at least her sacrifice was worth something.”

Kiva froze. “What?”

“The bargain Mother made with Navok — I said I’d tell you, and believe what you want about me but I rarely go back on my word.” Zuleeka brushed invisible dirt from her shoulder before revealing, “Mother allied the rebels with Mirraven. With Caramor, too, since they’re so tightly joined, though her deal was with King Navok only.” As if to herself, she murmured, “He’s not going to like what happened in the warehouse today, but he should’ve had more patience. Those idiots could’ve ruined everything.”

Heart pounding as Zuleeka’s words repeated in her ears — Mother allied the rebels with Mirraven — Kiva ignored everything else to ask through numb lips, “What deal?”

“Evalon’s defenses are too strong for the northern territories to invade without inside help,” Zuleeka said. “So we — the rebels — will be the help.”

Kiva struggled against her growing alarm. It sounded like Zuleeka was planning to aid Navok in taking over Evalon. But —

“Why would Mother make that promise if she wanted the kingdom for us?” Kiva asked, confused.

“Her anger was enough that she would’ve been happy just to unseat the Vallentis family, even if she couldn’t take the throne from them herself,” Zuleeka said. “When she left us to make the deal with Mirraven, she’d been working for years with little to show for it, and she was becoming sick enough that she knew she had to make a choice. She decided that allying with Navok would be the fastest way to get vengeance. But despite that, she still did everything she could to make sure there would be a Corentine ruling by his side.”

It took a moment for Kiva to understand, but when she did, she gasped aloud. “Are you saying — are you marrying King Navok? Was that part of the deal?”

Zuleeka’s hands clenched into fists, the only indication of how she felt about the arrangement. But all she said was, “Mother didn’t know about the Royal Ternary — she didn’t know there might be another legitimate way. Even with it, there could still be problems, so Mirraven’s forces will guarantee the citizens of Evalon fall into line. The armies, too. Either way, a Corentine will be on the throne. That’s what matters.”

The backup plan Princess Mirryn had mentioned — it was Mirraven.

Gods. Gods.

“Why?” Kiva croaked. “What changed?”

“Navok.” Mirryn spat the Mirraven king’s name like a curse. “He said I’m not good enough, that I’m ‘just a princess’ — can you believe that? We were so careful to keep our relationship secret from him, but somehow he found out. And now he’s forcing the woman I love to marry Voshell, knowing that one day he’ll be king, and she’ll rule Caramor at his side.”

Kiva blinked, realizing Mirryn was talking about King Navok’s sister, Serafine. But that meant —

Her family got involved. They didn’t think we were a good match.

Princess Serafine was Mirryn’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. They must have been forced apart because Navok wanted his sister to marry an heir, not a spare.

Kiva almost felt sympathy toward Mirryn — but only almost.

The princess leaned closer, her eyes fevered. “This is the only way I can get Serafine back — by becoming Queen of Evalon. Navok promised he’ll terminate her betrothal the moment I’m on the throne. Then she can be mine.”

“Where does Zuleeka fit into that plan?” Kiva asked hoarsely.

“She and I will rule together,” Mirryn said. “We’ve already agreed — we’ll be two queens the likes of which this world has never seen. A Corentine and a Vallentis, the way it was always meant to be.” A slash of a smile. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

Kiva shook her head in denial even if she knew the princess spoke true.

“The Royal Ternary,” Mirryn mused, raising her free hand. On her finger was a ring — the queen’s Signet, Kiva realized with a sinking heart. “We never would have known about that clause if not for you,” Mirryn went on. “That saved us years of planning.” Another flash of teeth in the low light, stretching into a beaming grin. “Thank you, Kiva. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me. And Zuleeka.”

“Zuleeka never abducted you, did she?”

The princess held her eyes. “She didn’t need to.”

Four words, and Kiva’s world crumbled.

“Your sister and I have been allies for some time,” Mirryn revealed, smoothing the front of her dress. “We realized we both have the same goals, and that we’d reach them faster if we worked together.”

Mirryn was Zuleeka’s spy in the palace, Kiva suddenly understood. The one who had told Zuleeka about Jaren’s magic, and gods knew what else. She’d betrayed her own family, had helped orchestrate everything that had happened tonight.

Afraid of the answer, Kiva asked, “What goals?”

“To rule Evalon, of course,” Mirryn said.

But — Mirryn already ruled Evalon. She was a Vallentis. A princess from birth.

Kiva’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you seriously have no idea?” Mirryn huffed out a laugh. She shifted forward, wrapping one hand around the bars, nearly brushing Kiva’s fingers. “You see my brother just like everyone else — perfect and wonderful and amazing in every single way. Can’t you imagine what it’s like growing up beside that?”

Kiva’s exhausted, throbbing mind was scrambling to follow. “You’re — You’re jealous of Jaren?” she asked. “That’s why you’re helping the rebels take the throne? Your throne? Just so he doesn’t inherit it?”

Mirryn snorted. “You’re finally starting to catch up. But you’re only halfway there.” Her angry blue gaze locked with Kiva’s as she explained, “It was never my throne, but it always should have been. I was the firstborn child — it was my birthright until precious Jaren came along, his magic considered so much more powerful, as if that meant something. Everything was taken from me the day they decided he should rule in my place: my title, my future, everything. I was raised in his shadow, always second best, always the spare.”

Her face twisted, the knuckle of her hand turning white against the bars, but then she visibly relaxed. “When I met your sister, she told me we could work together to get back what belonged to me, what belonged to us. It was a proposal too tempting to resist.” She paused, then admitted, “That said, it’s only been in the last few weeks that I really dedicated myself to our work. I helped provide information before that, but I wasn’t in a rush for action. Now I am.”

And when Kiva sat up, she sobbed anew at the sight of the wound sealed shut.

But then another sob left her, this one not from relief, but with sorrow as she recalled how Jaren had once explained his power: My magic is a part of me. Like an arm or a leg.

Zuleeka had stabbed him with the Eye of the Gods.

When Jaren woke, his magic would be gone.

Kiva had done that to him.

She might have saved his life, but she was the reason he’d lost his magic.

And soon, his entire kingdom.

He would never forgive her.

She would never forgive herself.

Be the light in the dark.

“Farewell, Prince,” Zuleeka said, her snake-smile growing.

Be the light in the dark.

Zuleeka’s dagger sliced through the air —

BE THE LIGHT IN THE DARK.

— and with an almighty scream, golden light burst from Kiva, the darkness vanishing under its sheer force, releasing her, releasing Caldon, releasing Jaren, leaving no trace of her sister’s corrupt magic to be seen.

But then Zuleeka’s blade stabbed into Jaren’s flesh.

Right into his heart.

A wave of power erupted from him, sending Kiva and Caldon flying into the wall, the windows shattering, the chandelier crashing to the ground. Zuleeka alone remained standing as Jaren slid to his knees, his mouth open in a gasp of pain, his now-free hands clutching at the dagger lodged in his chest.

“The dagger — Sarana used it on Torvin. It’s how she s-saved the kingdom.”

Jaren had mentioned that before she’d fled the palace — how some of the legends claimed the queen had used it against the king, nearly killing him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kiva said soothingly, dabbing the blood off Delora’s rapidly paling face. “We need to get you some —”

“Kiva,” Delora snapped, a burst of frustration strengthening her voice. “That dagger can take away magic. It was a gift from the gods — a gift for Sarana to use against Torvin. A gift to stop him.”

Kiva rocked backwards, her ears ringing in the wake of Delora’s damning words.

That dagger can take away magic.

“I don’t —” Kiva breathed, unable to finish her horrified sentence.

Delora released Kiva and lifted her hem to reveal a jagged scar across her stomach, the death magic still swirling around her pale skin.

“You wanted to know how I repressed my magic?” Delora asked, her voice growing weak again. “I s-stabbed myself with that blade. The Eye drew every scrap of power out of me, eliminating any chance that I’d ever use it to hurt someone. I d-didn’t want to live with that fear.”

Kiva stared at the scar, even as realization hit her. “The potion — I tried to recreate it, but it didn’t work because — because —”

“It was n-never about the ingredients,” Delora confirmed. “I used the dagger to make it. That’s what stopped your magic.” She took Kiva’s hands again, both of them this time, her aged flesh cold and clammy. “You’re different from them, Kiva, the light to their darkness. Your magic is pure, your heart is true. I c-can sense it.”

A tear leaked down Kiva’s cheek, not just at the words, but because she could feel Delora fading. It wouldn’t be long now.

“But you m-must be careful,” Delora went on weakly — so very weakly. “One mistake is all it will take, one p-poor choice. You have to fight it. Don’t become like them.” With a final pained gasp, Delora summoned the last of her strength to whisper, “Be the light in the dark, Kiva.”

“It’s ceremonial, something I’m encouraged to wear to formal events. The blade isn’t even sharp.” He ran his finger along the edge to show her what he meant.

But Kiva wasn’t looking at the blade.

She was looking at the hilt.

And at the clear gemstone embedded into it.

Kiva pointed a shaky finger at the jewel, a horrible feeling growing within her as she asked, “What is that?”

“Remember the Eye of the Gods? The gift they gave Sarana and Torvin?” Jaren tapped the diamond-like jewel. “It came forged into a dagger — so I guess a more accurate name would be the Dagger of the Gods, but that’s a bit morbid.” He cocked his head to the side. “Didn’t I tell you?”

Kiva shook her head. Then shook it again.

No.

No, no, no.

“This one is just a replica.” Jaren tapped the jewel again. “As I said the other day, Ashlyn has the real one.”

He was wrong.

So, so wrong.

Because Kiva had seen the real one.

In her grandmother’s cottage.

The one Ashlyn had was a fake. It had to be, or Delora wouldn’t have been so determined to hold on to hers — and to keep it from the rest of their family.

Kiva moved into one final spin as the music came to a close, and then, barely a second after they stopped, Jaren materialized at their sides, eliciting a huff of amusement from his cousin.

“It was touch and go,” Caldon said, his voice grave, “but she survived being parted from you for a whole seven minutes.”

Jaren ignored him and reached for Kiva, linking their hands and leading her off the dance floor.

“Don’t mind me!” Caldon called after them. “I’m fine by myself!”