The Gilded Cage

The Royal Ternary.

The Book was one of three items that could cause his family’s ruin.

And last night —

Kiva had told Zuleeka and Torell about it.

She’d told them everything.

But she’d also told them that without all three items — one of which was hundreds of miles away — it could do nothing.

Surely they wouldn’t have risked stealing it for no reason? Not when doing so would endanger Kiva’s life, the coincidence of the timing too glaring to be ignored?

“At least give me the stupid dagger. You clearly have no desire to be associated with our bloodline, and if what you’ve shared is true, I don’t blame you. But Torvin’s dagger is important to the rebels, and Zuleeka would like —”

Kiva cut off when Delora threw back her head and howled. “Torvin’s dagger? Is that what the she-devil calls it?”

Uncertain now, Kiva said, “She said it’s a family heirloom.”

“Well, she’s not wrong about that,” Delora said dryly, before laughing all over again. But then she sobered, her voice unyielding as she stated, “I’d rather die than see that dagger in your sister’s hands. You can tell her that from me.”

“You’ve repressed yours. You told me so when we first met.”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

“You said you don’t take the potion, but you don’t practice, either. So there must be some way you keep from —”

Delora laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Kiva threw out her arms, wincing when one went straight through a large spiderweb. “Know what?”

Delora laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “If she didn’t tell you, I’m certainly not going to.”

“And you can consider it a warning. It’s what awaits you if you’re not careful.”

“I would never —”

“You can’t tell the future, girl,” Delora interrupted. “Tilda hid her magic for most of her life, determined never to use it for evil. And then —” Delora snapped her gnarled fingers. “One day she just didn’t care anymore. One day she wanted to hurt people. You can’t tell me with absolute certainty that you’d never do the same.”

“But that’s the thing — I can,” Kiva said, strength returning to her voice. She moved closer, stopping at the foot of the porch steps. “I’ve spent my life helping people, learning to heal them not with magic, but with medicine. My father —” Her voice broke. “My father taught me to love people, to feel what they feel, to care for them, even the worst of them. And I did. For ten years, I helped the worst people in this world. Not once did I consider wanting to harm them. Even those I hated. I just —” She shook her head. “I don’t have it in me. I know I don’t.”

Delora eyed her for a long moment. Kiva held her gaze, unwavering in her self-confidence. She wouldn’t become like Torvin, like her mother. She was her own person, and she decided her own path. And while, yes, she’d done awful things in her life, she wasn’t like them.

She wasn’t a monster.

“I can see you believe that,” Delora finally relented. “And I hope you’re right, girl, I really do.”

If Torvin’s magic had corrupted him, if he’d been killing people — villages, as Delora had claimed — then Sarana had been justified in trying to end him. But that meant . . . the entire rebel movement was founded on a lie. Their whole purpose was to reclaim the throne of Evalon for its supposedly rightful ruler, someone who had been unfairly exiled and stripped of his title. But if Delora was to be believed, then Torvin had lost all rights to his crown when he’d stopped serving his people, when he’d started hurting them.

Kiva felt sick.

She was related to a monster.

And her mother —

Her mother had turned into him.

Unable to stomach such damning revelations, Kiva pushed away from Bluebell and ran straight to the water’s edge, vomiting up a foul mix of chocabuns, vegetables, and gravy.

“And how does it do that?” Delora asked, leaning more heavily on her cane. “You manipulate the human body. Your magic promotes the accelerated regrowth of cells, the banishment of toxins, making changes to blood and tissue and organs and gods know what else. But that manipulation works both ways. With a single thought, you can stop a heart. Burst an artery. Cause a brain bleed. Collapse a lung. The list is endless, the power of life and death in your very hands. Your mother knew that. And ten years ago, when she came out of hiding, she was angry enough to use it that way. She grew in power and strength, reaching a point where she didn’t even have to be touching someone to hurt them, to kill them. Last I heard, she could walk by a group of people and wave her hand, snapping all the bones in their necks. Just like that, they were dead.”

Bile rose in Kiva’s throat. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? That’s my daughter — you think I’m proud of what she became?” Delora looked away, staring out at the brown, murky swamp water. “There is good news, though. That kind of magic takes a toll, which means the damage she caused was limited, even with dedicated practice. That, and she wasn’t nearly as strong as Torvin. She could harm a few people at time, but him? He could lay waste to entire villages. Why do you think Sarana Vallentis tried to kill him? Once his power turned corrupt, he was a danger to the entire kingdom. To the entire world. Husband or not, she had to put her people first.”

“No,” Kiva said, raising her hand in a stop motion. “That’s not — That’s not —”

“I’m guessing your mama told you a different history, didn’t she? One where poor little Torvin was the victim of mean old Sarana’s jealousy?” A mocking sound left Delora. “Of course she did. Make no mistake, girl, Torvin might have started out good and kind and a healer of the people, but he became the worst kind of evil there is. And every Corentine since him, at least the ones born with magic in our blood, have had to decide whether or not to follow in his footsteps.” She held Kiva’s horrified gaze. “Your mother chose wrong. And you —” She shook her head. “With how long you’ve repressed your power, I fear it’s only a matter of time before you head down the same dark path. There’s no potion in the world that can stop you from your own bad choices.”

“I won’t give you the dagger, not now, not ever. And I won’t give you any more potion either, so you can go on and get out of here.”

Kiva paled and took a step forward, nearly slipping on the wet, swampy path. “Please, I don’t care about the dagger. Truly — that’s between you and Zuleeka. But I need that potion. It’s stopping me from —”

“All it’s doing is delaying the inevitable,” Delora cut in. “I told you it wasn’t a permanent solution. You keep using it, and there’s no telling what’ll happen when you finally let your magic loose. My guess is, you’ll become just like your mama, everything good and pure in you turning dark, your power leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake.”

The croaking of frogs and distant birdsong met Kiva’s ears, but it was drowned out by the ringing that started, growing louder as she whispered, “What are you talking about? My mother’s magic — my magic — it’s healing magic. It helps people. There’s nothing dark about it.”

Delora scoffed. “Oh, please. Your mama used her magic to kill people. Just like Torvin Corentine did all those centuries ago.”

The ringing stopped.

The croaking stopped.

The birdsong stopped.

For one moment, Kiva heard nothing, every noise, every thought, eddying from her mind as she stumbled backwards, kept from falling only by bumping into the solid weight of her horse. “What?” she mouthed, unable to infuse any sound into the word.

Delora stared at Kiva through narrowed eyes. “She didn’t tell you, did she? That sister of yours?”

Kiva could barely breathe, let alone form a response.

“Let me guess — she said your mama died of a rotting illness? Something there was no cure for?” Delora snorted. “I’ll bet she did. But I’ll also bet she didn’t share that it was Tilda’s own magic that rotted her from the inside out. The moment she started using it for evil, it turned on her, spreading like an infection, straight to her very soul. There’s a price for that kind of power. To master death, one must be willing to die.”

Mother was sick. A rotting illness, something we couldn’t find a cure for . . . The infection spread slowly, over years, something none of us realized until it was too late.

At the memory of Zuleeka’s words, Kiva swallowed. “I don’t understand. Our magic — Corentine magic — it’s good. It heals people.”

“What about you? Have you chosen your dress?”

“I have,” the princess confirmed, but instead of looking pleased, sadness touched her eyes. “It was a gift from my girlfriend, something she gave me before —” Mirryn broke off and looked away, quietly correcting, “Ex-girlfriend, now.”

“I’m sorry, Mirry,” Kiva said softly.

Just as softly, the princess said, “I really thought she was the one, you know?”

There was so much pain in her voice that Kiva nearly hugged her, but she resisted, unsure how it would be received. “Did she ever write back and explain why she wanted to break up?”

The princess nodded and shared, somewhat bitterly, “Her family got involved. They didn’t think we were a good match.”

Kiva stared. “Don’t they know who you are?”

“It’s because of who I am that they don’t approve,” Mirryn said. “Apparently they don’t want a princess in the family. Go figure.”

“What about you? Have you chosen your dress?”

“I have,” the princess confirmed, but instead of looking pleased, sadness touched her eyes. “It was a gift from my girlfriend, something she gave me before —” Mirryn broke off and looked away, quietly correcting, “Ex-girlfriend, now.”

“I’m sorry, Mirry,” Kiva said softly.

Just as softly, the princess said, “I really thought she was the one, you know?”

There was so much pain in her voice that Kiva nearly hugged her, but she resisted, unsure how it would be received. “Did she ever write back and explain why she wanted to break up?”

The princess nodded and shared, somewhat bitterly, “Her family got involved. They didn’t think we were a good match.”

Kiva stared. “Don’t they know who you are?”

“It’s because of who I am that they don’t approve,” Mirryn said. “Apparently they don’t want a princess in the family. Go figure.”

“You need to stop this,” he said, smoothing her forehead again. “Keep frowning, and you’ll age thirty years in no time. Maybe forty.”

She batted away his hand and deliberately deepened her frown.

“That’s lovely,” he said. “Real charming.”

“Have you always been this annoying?” Kiva asked.

“You bring out the best in me, Sweet Cheeks.”

Kiva sent him a deadpan look.

He chuckled, before sobering again. “It’s late — we need to get back to the palace. But before we go, I have one last question.”

“I thought you already knew everything about me?” Kiva shot back.

“Do you have healing magic?”

The breath left Kiva. But then, slowly, she nodded. “I do. But Zuleeka and Tor don’t.”

Caldon pulled Naari’s blade from his belt, causing Kiva’s heart to stutter. But he only waved it and said, “So, if I stabbed myself with this right now —”

“Don’t!” Kiva cried, lunging for it. Only when it was safely back beneath her leather boot did she realize he hadn’t put up a fight and was looking at her with raised eyebrows. She cleared her throat and explained, “I can’t use my power right now.”

His questioning look only grew, so Kiva gave in and told him the real reason why she’d drugged him, candidly sharing about her magic bursts and her grandmother’s suppressant potion. The only thing she left out was that she’d have to return to Blackwater Bog the next day, fearing he’d try to stop her — or worse, insist on accompanying her. She very much doubted Delora would appreciate the royal company.

When she was finished, Caldon stared at her for a long moment, before finally grinning. “Doesn’t it feel good to get all that off your chest? No more secrets between us, Sunshine.” His face turned serious as he warned, “I mean it. As much as I love you, if I get so much as a hint that you’ve lied to me and you’re planning to hurt my family, I’ll slit your throat myself. Understood?”

Kiva gulped. That seemed to be answer enough for Caldon, since he slung his arm around her shoulders and began leading her out of the docks, whistling merrily the entire way back to the palace.