The Blood Traitor

“I want to apologize for what happened last night — for what I did, and for what I said.” She slid the topaz ring from her finger and handed it to him, careful not to touch his skin as she dropped it into his palm. “I know that must have been uncomfortable for you, not just the angeldust part because of everything with your mother — and just to say, I — well — you now know I’ve had some problems with it in my recent past” — she hugged her elbows awkwardly — “but I didn’t choose it because I wanted to choose it. As I said last night, the Mystican saw it was one of my greatest fears, and she exploited that.” Kiva winced at the unspoken mention of what her other greatest fear was, and hurried to add, “So to clarify, it’s not something I’m tempted to partake of willingly in the future, in case that’s a concern.”

Aware that she was flubbing her speech, she quickly went on, knowing the next part would be even more challenging. “As for everything I said about you, I think it’s best if we both try to forget, um, all of that.” She winced again at her poor articulation, before making herself meet his gaze. In the back of her mind, she noted that his face wasn’t blank and emotionless like it had been for most of their journey, but she couldn’t afford to think about that, and only said, with bald honesty, “Drugged or not, it wasn’t fair for me to heap that on you. You’ve made your feelings clear, and I fully respect what you told me. The last thing I want is your pity, so please don’t —” Her voice cracked, but she coughed and continued, stronger now, “I just think it’s best if we put it behind us, and move forward as if it never happened.” She took a fortifying breath and finished, repeating some of what Caldon had said earlier that day. “It’s a small ship, and even once we’re on dry land again, we still have to be near each other until this is all over. But I promise that once we have the rings, and Zuleeka and Navok are out of the picture, you’ll get your wish and never have to see me again.”

“It’s good to know my training’s paying off,” he said, passing her a basket of warm rolls.

“Sorry?” Kiva asked, busy trying to calm her nerves.

“I’ve never seen you run as fast as you did today.”

Kiva grimaced and turned to him with an apology on her tongue, only to see the laughter in his eyes. She pulled a face, causing him to chuckle.

“Are you good?” he asked. “Or should we anticipate another mad dash?”

“I’m good,” she promised, taking a cautious bite and nearly moaning at the soft, buttery flavor of the dough. “I may have . . . overreacted, earlier today.”

Caldon held up his thumb and forefinger, pressing them together. “Just a smidge.”

Jaren.

He did a double take when he saw her, and said something quickly to the short, dark-skinned captain, before heading straight for where she and Caldon stood.

Kiva made an alarmed sound and blurted out a nonsensical, “Headache. Sleep. Now. Later.” Then she ran from Caldon, ignoring his frustrated voice calling after her. All she knew was that she couldn’t face Jaren. Not yet. So she hurriedly retraced her steps from earlier, almost tumbling back down the narrow stairs before somehow finding the boxy cabin she’d awoken in. More alert now, she realized there were two small beds, not one, but she didn’t spare a thought to who her bunkmate was, slamming the door and locking it, then sliding down with her back resting against the wood.

A moment later, there was a loud knock, followed by the sound of the handle rattling.

“Kiva, let me in.”

Jaren’s command caused her racing heart to stutter. She was frozen, unable to think of anything but the previous night and everything she’d said while under the influence of the angeldust.

“Please, Kiva,” he said, his voice muffled by the wood. “We need to talk.”

But Kiva didn’t want to talk. She knew why he was there — because he was Jaren. Last night, she’d shared too much, and now he knew exactly what she was feeling.

Knowing he wants nothing to do with me kills me. Every time I look at him, I feel like I can’t breathe.

Kiva closed her eyes as renewed embarrassment swept over her.

I’m in love with him, can you believe it?

She covered her face and drew her knees up to her chest, wishing she could go back in time, wishing she could forget.

But wishes were for fools. So Kiva just sat there, waiting until she heard a quiet sigh and then his footsteps moving away. Only then did her tension fade, her shoulders slumping as her adrenaline fled, the pain in her temples now shrieking. But she didn’t move, didn’t try to get more comfortable. Instead, she attempted to piece together her heart, knowing it was impossible — because it had just walked away.

She braced, certain he would be furious that she’d chosen the angeldust, and perhaps even more livid that she hadn’t told him about Zalindov. He was her best friend, and yet, she’d been too ashamed to tell him how far she’d fallen in those early days at the prison.

But Caldon didn’t yell at her. There wasn’t a single trace of anger on his face. Instead, all he said was, “You missed your training this morning.”

Kiva’s lips wobbled, emotion slamming into her.

“Don’t cry,” Caldon said firmly. “If you cry, I’ll cry. No one wants to see that.”

Despite his warning, tears prickled her eyes.

“What did I just tell you?” Caldon said, frowning. But then he sighed and tugged her into his arms.

She hiccupped, but managed to get control of herself before she descended into full-blown sobbing. “I’m sorry,” she said shakily. “I just need a minute.”

“Take all the time you want, Sunshine,” Caldon said, tucking her under his chin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Whispered voices buzzed in her ears as she fought to remain conscious, one of them Cresta’s, the second a distressed male, and the third also male and distressed — and familiar enough to flood her with warmth. It was that voice that came closer, murmuring quietly, soothingly, and then Kiva felt gentle fingers trail across her cheek, before she was carefully pulled up into a pair of strong arms.

Feeling safer than she had in months, Kiva cuddled into the warm body with a sigh, whispering a slurred, “Jaren.”

“Sleep, Kiva,” he whispered back.

And then she was moving, before being lowered onto something soft again, with blankets being pulled over her as she was tucked in like a cocoon.

The last thing she felt before finally succumbing to sleep was the impossibly soft press of lips against hers.

That was when she knew — she must already be dreaming.

“I’m not a victim.”

“That’s right,” Cresta stated. “You’re not a victim. You’re a survivor.” She held Kiva’s blurry eyes. “So start acting like one.”

“But I —”

“Your brother is dead, your father is dead, even your mother is dead — there’s nothing you can do about that,” Cresta said without mercy. “Bad things happen in this world, and you deal with them. You say Jaren hates you, that he wants nothing to do with you? Then you deal with that, too. But you know what you don’t do?” She didn’t give Kiva the chance to answer. “You don’t give up. You don’t wallow in self-pity. And you don’t, for whatever gods-damned idiotic reasons you have, choose angeldust over a kiss. Everworld help me, I don’t even know where to start with that, but you’d better believe you’re in for a verbal lashing once you’re sober again.”

“But I got the ring,” Kiva said petulantly, holding up her hand. “We need the rings so Jaren can get his magic back.”

“We need the rings to stop Navok from getting them and to save your precious Evalon,” Cresta corrected. “But the bottom line is, you’re more important than any stupid ring, and you put yourself at risk tonight for no reason. If Jaren hadn’t found you —”

“Jaren will always find me,” Kiva said confidently, her eyelids fluttering shut against her will, another yawn leaving her. “He might wish he’d never met me, but he’ll always protect me. He can’t help it. He’s too good. Too pure. None of us deserve him. Especially me.”

“I think I just vomited a little,” Cresta muttered, before exhaling loudly. In a slightly more compassionate voice, she said, “You’re in for a rough morning, so stop talking and try to sleep while you can. And you’d better pray you don’t remember any of this.”

“Why?” Kiva asked, her slurring more pronounced now that she was beginning to drift off. “You’ve seen me worse than this.” She blindly reached out to pat the ex-quarrier as she said, “You’re a good friend, Cresta. I’m sorry you lost your family, but I’m glad you’re a part of ours now.”

The silence that followed her statement was long enough for sleep to tug at Kiva.

“Rooke killed my father — I can’t remember if I told Jaren. I was going to mention it this morning, but he didn’t want to hear anything from me. I was also going to say how my family were never rebels before Zalindov — that all happened after I was sent there. I didn’t choose that life. And when I was finally free to make that choice, I still didn’t choose it.” Quieter now, she said, “I made mistakes, but I didn’t mean to make them. And I didn’t get to tell him that, because he didn’t want to listen. That’s why I couldn’t kiss him. I wanted to — so much. But I also know he would have only agreed so we could get the ring. And that hurts. Knowing he wants nothing to do with me kills me. Every time I look at him, I feel like I can’t breathe — it’s like there’s something squeezing my chest and choking my lungs and —”

“Kiva,” Cresta muttered, “maybe you should —”

“I’m in love with him, can you believe it?” Kiva said, laughing. She opened her eyes in time to see Cresta wince and look off to the side, but she didn’t understand why, nor did it stop her from continuing, “Well, I know you can, since you had to put up with me telling you every single day at Zalindov. At least until the withdrawal passed. Then you had to stop me from wanting to kill myself.”

Cresta winced again, deeper this time, her gaze still turned away.

“And somehow, you did,” Kiva said. “Stop me, I mean. You saved me. You helped me remember I had a reason to live.” Musingly, she added, “If my heart didn’t already belong to Jaren, I think I’d be in love with you. But then Caldon would be angry at me, and I don’t want anyone else angry at me.” Sad now, Kiva whispered, “I hate that Jaren hates me. But I understand, because after everything I did, I deserve —”

“All right, that’s enough,” Cresta said in an unyielding voice. “Are you done playing the victim now?”

“What are you talking about?” Jaren spoke over Kiva, his eyes no longer filled with fury, but dangerously alert. Caldon, too, had stilled at his side. “She’s never used angeldust before.”

“That was true, until her psychopath of a sister — and yours, for that matter — ordered that she be kept drugged for the whole journey from Vallenia to Zalindov,” Cresta shared bluntly. “She was so addicted when she arrived that it took weeks for her to function again. I still have nightmares about her screaming at me to put her out of her misery. And given how rabid she was, I’m not ashamed to admit I considered it.”

Both Jaren and Caldon looked as if they’d been slapped.

Some part of Kiva was feeling panicked again, but the angeldust quickly numbed her distress. She decided the best thing to do was ignore them both and speak directly to Cresta, which she did, slurring, “Don’t worry, I didn’t take much.” She then yawned loudly and snuggled down into the couch, exhaustion combining with the drug to lull her into a perfectly relaxed state. Her eyes closed, and since she could no longer see anyone, she promptly forgot that the two princes were in the room, continuing to speak only to Cresta as she explained, “I had to do it or the pretty mind reader would have made me kiss Jaren. That was the payment she wanted — I had to face one of my two fears: him or angeldust. I didn’t want to take it. It nearly killed me last time. But Jaren hates me. He would have only hated me more if I’d kissed him.”

She rolled onto her side, unaware of the dead silence now ringing in the room.

Kiva’s thoughts were scattered as she mumbled, “I didn’t even get to tell him about Kerrin. I saw him die, did you know? My little brother — he was only five, and he was killed by the Royal Guard. Captain Veris held me back, so I didn’t have a chance to heal him. I didn’t know I could throw my magic then. If I’d known, I could have saved him.” Kiva yawned again. “I like Captain Veris. I shouldn’t, but I do. I shouldn’t like Jaren, either. Or Caldon. Or Ashlyn. Or any of them. But they’re all very likable. You feel the same — I can tell. Even if you don’t want to. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe it goes against your churlish Mirraven nature.” Kiva snickered. “Churlish. That’s a funny word.”

The next thing Kiva knew, she was in his arms, with him striding quickly through the darkness.

“So strong.” She sighed contentedly and nuzzled her face into his neck. “So perfect.”

His arms tensed around her, but he didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, his familiar scent loosening something deep inside her that not even the angeldust could soothe.

“Miss you,” Kiva whispered against his skin, causing his tension to grow. “So much.”

From that point on, time held no meaning for her, the drug distorting everything she knew, until she became aware of other people around them, and a room that was way too blue. She tried to focus again just as she was lowered onto something soft, with her arms being pried away from their death grip on Jaren.

“No,” she whined. “Come back.”

He ignored her and stepped away as the others came into view, their voices reaching Kiva as if from a dream.

“What do you mean, she’s high?” Caldon demanded.

“Come on, Tipp,” Naari murmured, “let’s go look for King Sibley’s kitchens. I could use a midnight snack.”

“But Kiva —” Tipp started, until Jaren quietly interrupted, “She won’t want you to see this, buddy.”

Cresta, meanwhile, was swearing loud enough to be heard in Evalon.

Kiva was vaguely aware of Naari leading Tipp out of their suite, but her own eyes remained locked — blurrily — on the ex-quarrier. “I had to do it,” she slurred. “I didn’t have a choice.” She laughed. “Well, I did. But I didn’t.”

“What’s she on about?” Caldon asked.

“She’s been rambling nonsense ever since I found her,” Jaren said, his tone still bristling with irritation. “You won’t get anything out of her — she needs to sleep it off.”

“This isn’t like her,” Caldon defended Kiva. “Something must have —”

“Shut up, both of you,” Cresta snapped at them. “You have no idea what she —”

“NO!” Kiva shouted, sitting up, the room tilting around her. The spike of panic left as quickly as it had arrived, but she remained cognizant enough to say, “Don’t tell them.”

“You can shut up, too,” Cresta said, pushing Kiva back down and crouching in front of her. “I got you through withdrawal once, I’ll damn well do it again. But as a so-called healer, you should have known better than to dabble with angeldust when you barely survived your last addiction.”

“I didn’t want —”

But then a hand latched on to her arm, yanking her firmly out of the mass of twirling, joyous bodies.

“What do you think you’re doing?” came Jaren’s furious voice, as he continued dragging her away from the crowd.

“The moon is smiling. We have to smile with it,” Kiva slurred, stumbling after him. And then into him, when he stopped suddenly. “Oops,” she said, giggling. “We bumped.”

From one blink to the next, Jaren was directly in front of her, his face mere inches away, his blue-gold eyes right there as he examined her closely.

“Beautiful,” Kiva whispered, reaching out to touch him.

He jerked backwards before her hand could make contact, his gaze slitting with realization. “Are you high?”

Kiva peered upward at the tall sandstone buildings. “High,” she said, pointing. “Very high.”

Jaren cursed loudly. “I can’t believe you. After everything —” He bit out another curse, then grabbed her arm again. “Come on. We found Tipp back with the Mystican — he’s fine. Everyone’s headed to the palace.”

“Not the right palace,” Kiva said, tripping as Jaren guided her along the dark street, the festival noises fading behind them. “The River Palace is the right palace. The River Palace is home.”

His fingers tightened, as if he was surprised. It didn’t hurt, but it reminded her of something.

“You shouldn’t touch me. No, that’s not right. I shouldn’t touch you.” Her face scrunched before clearing again, a triumphant cry leaving her as she said, “You don’t want me to touch you. That’s it.”

“Quiet, Kiva,” Jaren said in a hard voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Angry again.” Kiva blew out a breath. “I’m always making you angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Jaren stated, leading her down another alleyway. “I’m livid. What were you thinking, taking — what was it? Silverwish? Bloodwraith?” He leaned closer and sniffed, before edging back again and saying with clear disgust, “Angeldust. Unbelievable.”

Everything was swirling around Kiva, the colorful scarves like fluorescent bats flapping their wings. Something on the ground caught her attention, and she clapped gleefully. “Happy kitty!”

Jaren tugged her back before she could try to pet it. “That’s a dead rat.”

Kiva pouted as he pulled her away. “Sad kitty.”

“Everworld help me,” Jaren muttered.

“I’m tired,” Kiva said, and right there in the middle of the dirty, dark alley, she folded her knees and collapsed. When Jaren swore again, she squinted up at him and noted, “You curse a lot more now than you used to.”

“I wonder why,” he said under his breath.