Prison Healer

Jaren couldn’t remember the last time he felt clean — or the last time he wasn’t in pain.

He might have been the crown prince of the richest kingdom in Wenderall, but for over three weeks now he’d been an inmate at Zalindov prison, long enough that the only royal luxuries he experienced these days were in his dreams. That was if he dreamed at all. More often, he would pass out on his pallet every night in the dormitory he shared with hundreds of other prisoners, exhaustion sending him into a sleep so deep he might as well have been comatose. 

Even now, as he gripped his pickaxe tighter and chipped away at the thick limestone walls in the tunnels beneath the prison, fatigue tugged at him, accompanied by the relentless aching of his shoulders, arms, neck, and back. Then there were the calluses on his palms that seemed to be perpetually cracked and bloody. If not for the prison healer, Kiva Meridan, he knew they would have become infected long before now.

A smile touched his lips as he thought of Kiva, with her pitch-black hair and eyes as bright as emeralds. He could still remember the day he’d awoken at Zalindov, how he’d been disoriented upon finding himself in the infirmary with her leaning over him holding a bloodied needle. He’d reacted instinctively by leaping away from her, freezing only when he’d caught sight of Naari and recognized the warning in her eyes, the reminder of where he was — and why.

So far, he hadn't had any luck befriending the prison rebels. And Tilda Corentine's arrival hadn't yielded the results he'd hoped for, either, with her being on death's doorstep. Jaren wondered how long she would last, but then frowned to himself as he remembered that she wouldn't see that very day out. There was no way she would survive what was coming.

The Trial by Air.

The first of her four elemental Ordeals was due to begin imminently, though Jaren knew she wouldn't make it to the remaining three in her condition. As it was, the self-proclaimed Rebel Queen had been given an extra week to heal in order to allow the royal family Jaren's family - to have enough time to travel from the winter palace and bear witness to the first Trial. But Tilda hadn't improved, and her reprieve was now over, since his family would be arriving at the prison any minute.

Jaren had nearly had a heart attack when he'd first heard they were coming to Zalindov. It had taken some careful sneaking around for him to get a note to Naari and for her to then slip away to Vaskin one night, where she gave a messenger strict instructions to deliver the letter straight to his cousin, Caldon. The contents inside begged Cal to impersonate Jaren by playing the role of "Prince Deverick" for the day, so as to not arouse suspicion. Jaren could only hope Cal was willing to do so, and that his own sister, Mirryn, would go along with the ruse. They both knew as much as Jaren had dared tell them about his mission - a mission he'd taken on when his friend and loyal guard, Eidran, had broken his leg, leaving Jaren to become a prisoner in his stead - and while he might not have made much progress yet, his reasons for being in Zalindov were still valid. He needed to find out what was happening with the rebel movement. He couldn't fail now. He wouldn't. There was still more for him to uncover, so it was imperative that no one learned he was there, lest he lose his one chance to discover something that might help bring peace to his kingdom.

... And there was a certain green-eyed healer who he wasn't willing to part ways with yet, either.

Jaren wiped sweat from his face, smearing yet more tunnel dust over his skin, and renewed his digging, all the while wondering what it was about Kiva Meridan that called so strongly to him. It wasn't that she was beautiful - though, she was. Even malnourished and wearing ratty gray prison clothes, there was a light that shone from within her, making it impossible for him to pay attention to anyone else when she was nearby. But it was more than that. It was her heart that he was in awe of; her unreserved compassion for everyone, from the most hardened of criminals to the sweetest of children.

Another smile graced Jaren's lips as he thought of Tipp, the young boy who was unswervingly protective of Kiva, and, whether she liked it or not, loved her like a sister. Jaren knew Kiva struggled with that - she'd made no effort to hide how much she wished to keep distance between herself and every single other person at the prison, and he understood her reasoning. He couldn't imagine the nightmares of her past, the amount of people she must have carved with a Z scar only to see them waste away from the hard labor and fall into the everworld. For ten years of her life, all she'd known was death. It was only natural that she kept her walls up, even among those like Tipp who were determined to smash right through them.

Jaren wouldn't smash through them. He feared the kind of damage that might cause; that she might push him so far away that he'd never reach her. But that didn't mean he was going to give up. He might not smash, but he would knock, and keep knocking, until she allowed him in.

She would be worth the wait.

He knew that like he knew his own name.

And somehow, when he finally gleaned the information he'd come to Zalindov for, he would leave again - and he'd find a way to take Kiva with him. Tipp, too.

Jaren grimaced, already knowing how that conversation would go. Kiva had a forgiving nature, but she wouldn't appreciate that he'd been lying to her from the moment they'd met. He wasn't looking forward to the truth coming out, but if it meant he could free her from a place she most definitely didn't deserve to be in, then he would suffer the consequences of his deceit. And then he would do whatever it took to regain her trust.

Hopefully more than her trust.

Three weeks wasn't long enough to know for sure, but what he knew so far, he liked.

More than liked.

Jaren gave a wry shake of his head, knowing that if Caldon were there, he'd roll his eyes and order him to stop acting so ridiculous about a girl he barely even knew. But Jaren was also confident that Caldon would need less than five minutes with Kiva to feel the same way. There was just something about her, something Jaren couldn't put his finger on. But something that made him want to know her - outside of their current nightmarish circumstances.

That day would come, he would make sure of it.

"Tools down! Step away from the wall!"

Jaren jerked out of his wandering thoughts as the shouted commands were repeated by guards spaced along the tunnels, prompting the clanging of steel on rock to ease and then quiet completely. There remained a ringing in Jaren's ears, something he'd become used to in the last three weeks, and he knew it would take a few minutes before his hearing returned to normal. He focused on the coughing of his fellow tunnelers and the shuffling of their feet as he came back to himself, dropping his axe to the side and stretching his sore muscles with a muted groan.

"Single line back to the ladders! Hurry up!" called the guard closest to him, echoing the others.

Jaren frowned, certain it was nowhere near time for them to be done with their labor for the day. That could only mean-

"All prisoners are to bear witness to the first Trial," proclaimed the same guard. "Get your asses topside." He held a baton in his hands, his expression hard with warning.

Jaren never gave the guards a reason to strike him - but sometimes they didn't need a reason. Today, however, he made it through the tunnels and up to the surface without incurring anyone's wrath, his steps steady but his mind distracted by what he was about to see. He hadn't known prisoners would be observing the Ordeals. It was true that he held no love for Tilda Corentine, her very existence bringing his family and his kingdom nothing but trouble. But she was still a woman, and a sick one at that. He wouldn't celebrate her death - and he certainly didn't want to watch it happen. Nor was he eager to be so close to his family, given the risk of Caldon or Mirryn accidentally giving away something that might bring suspicion upon him.

But as with most things at Zalindov, Jaren didn't have a choice, so he followed the other tunnelers over the wintry, dead grass and then onto the path that led past the refectory, heading in the direction of the eastern quad.

And the gallows.

Jaren's stomach dipped as he saw the raised platform come into view and realized that this was where Tilda would meet her fate. Without having any elemental magic - and as a Corentine, she wouldn't - she'd have no means to survive whatever the Ordeal required of her. He wasn't sure what her task was, how her death would come, but he searched for a clue as he moved closer to the platform. He could see nothing out of the ordinary, though. Tilda hadn't even arrived yet, nor had the Warden. And there was no sign of his family.

Loosing a relieved breath, Jaren fought against the crowd of prisoners arriving from various work allocations and jostling him from all sides. The tunnels were close enough to the eastern quad that he and his fellow laborers were pushed to the front as more inmates appeared, a dangerous position for him to be in. He wanted to be as far from view as possible, but the more he struggled against the masses, the more they closed in on him.

And then he saw them.

Two figures wearing masks and heavy winter cloaks, surrounded by silver-armored Royal Guards, all being led by the black-uniformed Warden Rooke.

Prison guards parted the crowd, kicking and shoving inmates away to clear a path for the small group. Jaren froze at the sight, still too close to the front of the crowd for his liking, but unwilling to try and move again lest he draw attention to himself.

Because upon seeing the approaching figures, he realized there was something he'd forgotten, something that could ruin everything.

Someone.

Captain Veris.

He was meant to be in Vallenia, not here. Jaren hadn't factored the Captain of the Royal Guard into his risk assessment, having not once considered that Veris might be with Caldon and Mirryn. He must have already been on his way to the winter palace for him to have arrived in time to accompany them to Zalindov. And now...

Jaren hunched his shoulders, using the crowd to hide as best as he could, grateful that he was covered in enough tunnel grime to hopefully make him unrecognizable should Veris scan the masses. The inmates were excited now, beginning to shout and jeer and catcall so loudly that his ears were ringing again, the anticipatory feeling in the air almost nauseating.

Only when the royal entourage stepped up onto the gallows platform and halted in the middle did Jaren settle his gaze on Caldon. His cousin had smartly chosen a mask that covered most of his face, and given how similar their two physiques were, Cal should easily get away with the impersonation act. They'd done it before, after all. But it only worked when it involved people who didn't already know them both.

Veris did know them, and had done so since their births, so Jaren had no earthly clue how Cal had convinced the captain to go along with the subterfuge. Mask or no, Veris would be all too aware that it wasn't Jaren standing beside him. That meant Caldon must have fed the captain some excuse about Jaren's absence, something believable enough to keep him from uncovering the truth: that Jaren was already at the prison. As an inmate.

Gods, if Veris even suspected that the crown prince was in such a dangerous position, he'd haul Jaren straight out the iron gates and march him all the way back to Vallenia. And if Naari appeared - when she appeared, Jaren mentally corrected, because he knew she would arrive any moment - they would need a miracle to keep Veris's eagle eyes from recognizing her amongst the regular Zalindov guards. She might be dressed as one of them, but Veris wouldn't be fooled, and her presence would be a dead giveaway that Jaren was nearby.

Nervous sweat dotted Jaren's forehead as he calculated all the ways his plan could fail before he'd even given it a real chance. But he couldn't think about that now. He couldn't-

"Jaren!"

His eyes widened at the sound of his name, barely audible over the roaring of the crowd. He wondered if he'd imagined it, but then it came again, more insistent this time - "Jaren!" - and at the familiar voice, he spun his neck so fast that it cricked painfully.

He spotted Naari instantly, pushing her way through the crowd - but it wasn't she who had called to him.

It was Kiva.

Puzzled, he glanced quickly up at the platform, whispering thanks to the long-forgotten gods that Veris and his guards were watching the teeming crowd closely, but none were focused in the direction of where Kiva was moving forward, bearing Tilda's weight. Naari, too, was out of their immediate eyeline, and Jaren prayed she would be careful to remain that way, before realizing he needn't worry. His Golden Shield knew what she was doing.

Jaren, however...

He knew better than to draw attention to himself by moving, but he was powerless to ignore Kiva's summons. After another quick check to make sure Veris was still looking elsewhere, Jaren made his way toward her, struggling through the screaming crowd until he was close enough to see Tipp on Tilda's other side, both the boy and Kiva keeping the sick woman aloft. The added weight slowed them down, causing Naari and the three prison guards escorting them to pull ahead, but they were still only mere paces away from the gallows steps when he reached their sides - much too close for Jaren's comfort.

He opened his mouth to ask why Kiva had called him, but she got in first.

"Stay here," she ordered both him and Tipp, before unwrapping Tilda's arm from around her own neck and unceremoniously shoving her at Jaren, leaving him with no choice but to support the barely-conscious woman.

Before he could protest, before he could do anything, Kiva forced her way through the suffocating hoard, shoved her way past Naari and the three guards-

And bounded straight up the steps onto the platform.

"What is she d-d-doing?" Tipp asked, concern threading his voice.

Jaren didn't know the answer, but his breath hitched when the Royal Guards reacted to Kiva's unannounced arrival as they were trained to do: by pointing their swords straight at her.

The audience hushed in an instant.

Jaren watched in growing horror as the guard nearest to Kiva demanded, "Who are you, girl? Where's the Rebel Queen?"

It was in the split second before Kiva spoke that Jaren realized her intent, and by then it was too late for him to do anything as she straightened her shoulders and looked past Warden Rooke, past Captain Veris, and directly toward Caldon and Mirryn. Addressing them alone, she answered the guard's question in a loud, carrying voice: "My name is Kiva Meridan, and I claim her sentence as my own."

Jaren closed his eyes slowly, a thousand curse words blaring across his mind. He knew why she was doing this, knew her compassion for Tilda's sickness was what drove her to make such a sacrifice. Claiming the Rebel Queen's sentence meant Kiva would become Tilda's Champion and face the Trials in her place, binding their fates together. Kiva probably thought she stood a chance at surviving for both of them, or at least had better odds than the sickly queen. But Jaren knew the truth: the Ordeals were designed to test elemental magic users-and execute anyone else. By claiming Tilda's sentence, all Kiva would earn was a swift death. For both of them.

The audience began screaming again in the wake of Kiva's announcement, but a moment later Captain Veris roared for silence and they hushed once more.

Fear began to take root in Jaren; even with the quieted crowd, he was still barely aware of the conversations happening on the platform. He could see Kiva's pale face, the way her body trembled as Veris questioned her, but she kept her head high and quoted confidently from the Book of the Law, boldly repeating her claim to become Tilda's Champion.

Her assertive response made Caldon release a bark of laughter and say, "I like her. She's got spirit."

"She's got a death wish," Mirryn returned, though she also seemed entertained.

Jaren felt queasy watching them, knowing what they were talking about. Knowing what was coming. Knowing they weren't wrong.

"I don't think you understand the ramifications of your claim, girl," Veris tried to warn Kiva. Jaren knew the captain well enough to see the concern flickering in his brown eyes. Despite the inflexible requirements of his vocation, Veris had a kind heart. But even so, Jaren was surprised to see the captain appealing to Kiva's better senses, especially since she was someone he didn't know, nor did he have a reason to care about what happened to her. "If you fail to pass all four Trials, both of you will die."

At Veris's damning declaration, a murmur rippled over the listening crowd.

And then came Tipp's cry.

"NO, KIVA! D-DON'T!"

Jaren had to maneuver quickly to keep Tilda from falling when the young boy lunged forward, but he needn't have worried about stopping Tipp from landing in trouble himself, because suddenly Naari was there, her arms like steel bands around Tipp's waist. She whispered something in his ear too low for Jaren to hear, but whatever she said, it was enough for Tipp to stop struggling against her grip, even if every part of his small body was lined with tension.

If not for the crowd pressing in on them, and the conversation that was continuing atop the gallows, Jaren knew Veris would have spotted him and Naari by now. It was pure luck that the masses were so suffocating, pure luck that the captain was so distracted by Kiva's offer to volunteer that he missed Tipp's shout in favor of keeping his focus on her.

More words were being shared between them now, with Mirryn asking Kiva why she was willing to risk her life for the Rebel Queen, and Kiva-

Jaren groaned inwardly when Kiva didn't answer his sister's question, and instead told Mirryn to just sit back and enjoy the entertainment. He knew how his sister would respond to that kind of goading, even before he saw the smirk stretch across the side of her mouth that was visible beneath her mask.

"Definitely a death wish," Mirryn said.

And then from one blink to the next, Kiva was soaring into the air.

The crowd gasped, but no sound escaped Jaren as he watched Mirryn use her wind magic to raise Kiva up onto the freestanding watch-tower overlooking the eastern quad. She landed high enough that he could barely see her beyond the safety railing, but her body was shaking so violently that it was impossible to miss how afraid she was. Even after Mirryn lifted Veris up to join her, Kiva's fear was still visible as she spoke privately with the captain. The Trial hadn't even begun yet and she was barely keeping it together. There was no way she would-

"Kiva Meridan," came Caldon's amplified voice, cutting into Jaren's spiraling thoughts. The eyes of the audience swiveled from the royals on the gallows to Kiva and Veris atop the tower as Cal continued, "You have volunteered to undertake the Trial by Ordeal in place of the accused Rebel Queen. Today you shall face the Trial by Air. Do you have any last words?"

Jaren wanted to wring his cousin's neck for the heartless way he asked the question, as if her death were guaranteed. But then Jaren remembered that it was. Because unless Kiva had been hiding a magical power, unless she was an elemental anomaly, then the chances of her surviving the Ordeal - whatever it was - were nearly impossible.

A long silence rang out while the audience waited with baited breath for Kiva's response, but she said nothing. Jaren wondered if it was because she didn't want to risk vomiting, her face now a worrying shade of green.

"Very well," Caldon said when it became clear that Kiva wasn't going to speak. "Captain Veris, would you be so kind as to explain the first Ordeal to the Champion?"

Jaren couldn't hear what was said next, the captain and Kiva too high above them for their voices to carry. But the look on Kiva's face - the way her head whipped from Veris to the outer wall of the prison - the way she blanched and stepped back as if to get away from whatever the captain was telling her...

The pit of Jaren's stomach was cramping with nerves, as if it were him up on the tower. His heart began to pound in his ears as he watched Kiva continue to look across at the eastern wall, the terror stark in her expression, before it shifted into something new.

Determination.

She was going to do it, Jaren realized. Kiva was going to go through with the Ordeal - or die trying.

"We don't have all day," came Caldon's dry voice, and once more, Jaren had to grit his teeth to keep from leaving Tilda with the crowd and leaping up the gallows' steps to lay into his cousin. "You have thirty seconds, Champion, or we'll consider you to have surrendered."

Caldon began a countdown then, with the audience joining in and taking over from him. But Jaren was barely paying attention to them, his entire focus on Kiva as she pointed to the railing and said something to Veris that had him opening it.

The way she kept looking at the outer wall... the now-open railing...

Jaren suddenly understood what the Ordeal was.

She would have to jump from the tower to the top of the wall.

The leap - gods, it had to be at least thirty feet. An impossible distance, even with a running start. Kiva had to know that. Kiva did know that; Jaren could see it all over her face.

And yet...

"Twenty seconds, Champion," called Caldon, sounding bored, as if watching a girl about to leap to her death meant nothing to him. But Jaren knew he was faking it, merely playing the part of the apathetic crown prince. Because despite Cal's careless tone and the mask hiding his expression, there was a storm brewing in his cobalt eyes as he looked up at Kiva. Caldon might have been known widely for his arrogance and seemingly cavalier attitude, but that was largely an act for the benefit of those who didn't bother to dig deeper. He was a menace, for sure, but he was also one of the most protective and loyal people Jaren had ever known. Cal had no attachment to Kiva, but the way his hands clenched at his sides made it clear that he was warring with his own honorable instincts.

Just as Jaren was.

Barely five seconds had passed, with Kiva having stepped up to the edge of the railing to look down at the ground, as if to steel herself further. She didn't peer in Jaren's direction, even though she knew exactly where she'd left him with Tilda and Tipp and Naari, as if she couldn't bear to lay eyes on any of them; as if she knew it would likely be the last time and couldn't bring herself to do so. To say goodbye.

Jaren was going to be sick. He couldn't watch this. He couldn't just stand there and do nothing.

But he had to.

He didn't have a choice.

This was the Trial by Ordeal, a sentence given to Tilda and now claimed by Kiva. He couldn't stop it. Even if he barged up onto the gallows platform and revealed himself, he didn't have the power to stop what was about to happen. Tilda's sentence had been ordered - it had to be completed, by her... or her Champion.

The wheels were in motion. There was no turning back.

"Ten seconds, and you'll have failed," Caldon declared.

It had been a long time since Jaren had felt so helpless, but that was all he knew as he watched Kiva close her eyes and begin backing up from the railing.

The crowd began to scream the countdown as she stepped-

"Nine!"

and stepped-

"Eight!"

and stepped-

"Seven!"

She continued backing up - "Six! Five! Four! Three!" - until finally she was as far as she could go, the furthest distance from the open railing.

"Two seconds, Champion!" warned Caldon, an anxious edge deepening his tone.

But that edge was nothing compared to what Jaren felt simmering within him, a dangerous cocktail of terror and dread, all of which hollowed into numbness as he watched Kiva shoot forward, racing across the tower as fast as her legs would carry her, before she bolted through the open railing-

And launched herself into the air.

"KIVA! N-NO!"

Jaren heard Tipp's cry as if it were his own, but it was too late to warn her, too late to stop her.

For one impossible moment, it looked as if she were flying. Hope blossomed within Jaren, along with a wave of incredulity as he wondered if maybe she was an anomaly who would manage to shock them all by surviving the unsurvivable. With every inch she speared through the air, the eastern wall grew closer and closer, and for one blissful second, Jaren thought she was going to make it. He almost wept with relief as she continued to defy gravity, barely hearing Tipp's excited whoops over the uproar of the crowd. She was doing it. She was actually doing it.

But then she was falling.

Down, down, down she plummeted, the crowd crying out in dismay, Tipp's horror-filled screams the loudest of them all.

Jaren's heart was in his throat as he watched Kiva fall in slow motion. This was it - as soon as she hit the ground, she would die. No one could survive a fall from that height. She was mere seconds from fading into the everworld, there was no doubt in Jaren's mind.

Images assailed his thoughts, memories of their encounters over the last three weeks: how she'd stitched him up and soothed his hurts, how she called to him like a siren while keeping him at arm's length, how she'd shown nothing but kindness and compassion to every single person in her orbit, even those who cursed her and spat at her. Jaren had never met anyone who shone so brightly from within - and the thought of that light going out, of it never appearing again, of her dying...

Jaren couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to - and despite all the reasons that should have prevented him from acting, he didn't even try.

Instead, he summoned his power, thrusting his wind magic toward Kiva. But he knew instantly that he'd waited too long - she was too close to the ground for him to slow her descent gradually. The best he could do was erect a solid blanket of air beneath her just before she smacked into the hard earth, praying it would cushion her enough that she would survive the fall, fully aware that his delay could result in her breaking every bone in her body.

It had been weeks since Jaren had used his magic, something so intrinsic to who he was, something as natural to him as breathing. It almost seemed to sigh with relief as he urged it to wrap around Kiva, catching her midair and stopping her freefall with a sickening jolt, before lowering her the remaining distance to the ground. There she lay, as still as death.

But she wasn't dead. Jaren could feel it in the magic he still had wrapped around her, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out. She was alive - gods, gods she was alive - even if the force of her abrupt landing had rendered her unconscious.

Guilt and shame warred within Jaren, mixing with his knee-weakening relief. He should have caught her sooner. He shouldn't have waited. He should have-

The shouting of the crowd was so loud he couldn't finish his train of thought, chaos descending as the guards cleared a path to Kiva and the closest prisoners began screaming that she had survived the Ordeal.

The Warden yelled for order and the guards tried to settle the in-mates, but it was pandemonium, prompting them to start using their batons to shove at the prisoners, pushing them back and commanding them to return to their work allocations. The Trial was over - whatever happened next, they didn't need to be around to witness it. 

Jaren was desperate to get to Kiva's side, to see with his own eyes that she was safe and well - or at least, not permanently damaged - and he knew he wasn't alone in that desire. Tipp was straining against Naari as she dragged him away, with her blending them seamlessly into the crowd while throwing a warning look back at Jaren for him to follow. He knew what she was doing, knew that Veris was on his way down from the watchtower, knew that if they went against the flow of prisoners then they would risk the captain's notice. Jaren couldn't go to Kiva right now. But that didn't mean he couldn't find another way to see her soon - and that way was slumped against his side, barely conscious.

Tilda needed to get back to the infirmary. It was the perfect excuse for Jaren to avoid returning to the tunnels with the rest of the laborers. If needed, Naari would vouch for him with the other guards, but they were all so distracted by keeping the grumbling prisoners in check that they didn't notice when he shuffled along with his fellow workers only to continue on past the tunnel entrance, merging with a different group of inmates headed toward the western wall.

It was a simple matter for him to veer off the path once the infirmary came into view, grunting slightly as he dragged Tilda's limp weight and tried not to jostle the ill woman too badly. He knew he only had seconds to get the Rebel Queen into her bed and then find a place to hide before someone delivered Kiva back to her infirmary-or he assumed that was where they would take her-so he didn't dally, even when he discovered both Naari and Tipp already waiting beside Tilda's bed. The guard was on edge, looking at the door as if calculating the best course of action to keep Jaren from discovery, while Tipp was also looking at the door, wringing his hands.

"Is she c-c-coming?" Tipp asked Jaren. "Is she a-all right?"

"I'm sure she's fine, bud," Jaren lied, his own uncertainty still churning within him. He lowered Tilda onto her pallet, after which Naari clasped the restraints around the woman's wrists. Knowing how much Kiva had come to care for the sickly queen - enough that she had tried to save the queen's life by volunteering her own - Jaren took a moment to pull the blanket up over Tilda, giving her arm a compassionate squeeze before stepping away again.

To Tipp, Jaren continued, "And I'm guessing she's on her way. But we shouldn't be here when she arrives."

"Because the r-royals will be with h-her?" Tipp asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

Jaren nodded, though he wasn't sure about that. It was more likely that the Warden would whisk them away to discuss what had transpired. But if there was even a chance of them accompanying Kiva to the infirmary, and of Veris coming with them... "Can you go visit Mot for a bit?" Jaren asked the boy. "Maybe see if he has something that will help Kiva feel better once she wakes up?"

Tipp bounced on his feet, a light entering his bright blue eyes at the thought of having a task that would aid Kiva.

"I'm o-on it!" he said, running from the room.

"Make sure everyone's gone before you come back," Jaren called after him, and Tipp waved a hand in acknowledgment before disappearing through the door.

Jaren blew out a breath and then turned to Naari. She was already watching him, her eyes impossible to read. But even so, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"I had to do it," he said quietly, rubbing his face and grimacing at the thick layer of dirt he felt on his skin. "You know I had to."

"What I know is that we're seconds away from discovery," Naari said, "and you haven't told me what you want me to do."

Jaren raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to yell at me for being reckless? For using my magic? For interfering with the Ordeal - and therefore breaking the law?"

Naari pinned him with her amber eyes. "I can yell at you later. Right now, I need to know what your plan is."

For the millionth time since he'd known her, Jaren was grateful the guard was not just his Golden Shield, but also his friend. He sent her a small smile, but then considered her words and answered, "I really need to speak to Cal and Mirry before they leave."

Naari snorted. "Sure. I'll just ask Veris if I can have a moment of their time. He won't recognize me at all."

Jaren pressed his lips together. "I didn't say it would be easy."

A sound beyond the infirmary reached his ears, causing both him and Naari to glance at the door, urgency hitting them anew.

"Please, Naari," Jaren begged. "If it's not possible, then it's not possible. But-"

The guard sighed loudly. "I'll see what I can do." She pointed to the door on the far side of the infirmary, the one leading out to the medicinal garden. "Hide in there." She gave him a not-so-gentle push in that direction, before warning, "I can't make any promises. If there's a chance of Veris seeing me-"

"I trust your judgment," Jaren interrupted. "If it's too risky, then don't go near them."

He didn't wait for her to push him again before he took off toward the garden, hearing her leave through the main door just as he too stepped out of the infirmary building. He didn't know the layout of the garden well, but it wasn't hard to follow the path past the towering gabbergrass and around the bend until he was far enough out of sight to feel safe from discovery. He wanted to remain closer to the door, if only so he could watch for Kiva's arrival and eavesdrop on her condition, but he knew it was too dangerous. If anyone found him lurking there when he was meant to be in the tunnels...

Jaren ran a hand through his hair as he paced up and down, waiting what felt like hours for any sign of Caldon or Mirryn. Even just for Naari's return, if she was unsuccessful. But no one came, and the minutes kept ticking by, his agitation and concern growing with every step he took. Until finally-

"We leave you alone for a few weeks, and look at you: a hardened prisoner," came the familiar and way-too-cheerful voice of Caldon as he stepped into view from around the gabbergrass. He pulled the mask from his face, a wicked grin stretching across his lips as he asked, "Do you sharpen your teeth before bed? Open your mouth and let me look at those chompers."

He reached a hand forward but Jaren shoved it away, causing Cal to snicker.

"Gods, this place is revolting," Mirryn said, coming into view behind their cousin. She wrinkled her nose as she looked all around her, wiping invisible dirt off her thick red cloak. "How you've lasted here for longer than a minute is beyond me."

"Never mind that," Jaren said quickly. "Is Veris-"

"Distracted," Caldon said, waving a hand. "He thinks we're with Rooke, Rooke thinks we're with Veris-we have a few minutes before either realizes. Don't ask how Naari pulled that off. I'll never understand her ways."

Coming from Caldon with his strategic mind, that was saying a lot. But Jaren already knew Naari was a wonder, so instead he asked, "What happened after I saved Kiva? Please tell me you acted like it was your magic that caught her?"

Mirryn swatted at a bug flying near her face. "Of course we did." She then focused on him properly, her sapphire eyes narrowing as she said, "What in the everworld were you thinking?" She pointed back toward the infirmary beyond their sight. "Who the hell is that girl?"

Jaren didn't know how to give an answer that his sister would accept. All he could say was, "She's important to me."

Mirryn's gaze slitted further as she repeated with a hiss, "Important to you?" She tossed her golden hair and then rattled off a string of curse words so creative that Caldon began shaking with silent laughter, before she finished by spitting, "You're a fool. And an idiot. You're an idiotic fool."

Jaren didn't disagree. He only asked, "Is she badly hurt?"

With a huff, Mirryn said, "She's fine. Bruised all over, but nothing she won't heal from in a few days."

Relief had Jaren's shoulders slumping. Caldon noticed and arched a questioning eyebrow, but Jaren didn't respond. He knew his behavior was uncharacteristic, that the risk he'd taken in saving Kiva could have had disastrous consequences for his mission. It still might, if Veris came looking for Cal and Mirryn. They couldn't linger. But there was something Jaren needed to do before he sent them on their way, the reason he'd asked Naari to bring them to him, a quick, desperate idea he'd had upon returning to the infirmary.

Looking directly at his sister, he asked, "Are you wearing the Vallentis crest?"

Mirryn's brow furrowed, but she dug the golden amulet out from beneath her cloak. "Of course," she said. "I hate this gaudy thing, but Mother insists one of us wears it at official events. You know that."

A new relief swept over Jaren as he held out a hand for the amulet. He had no idea what he would have done if she'd left it back at the winter palace.

Caldon cocked his head to the side. "What are you-" He broke off with an incredulous snort when he realized what Jaren was intending to do.

Mirryn, however... her eyes widened as she watched Jaren send his fire magic into the amulet, the ruby glowing a bright red before fading again. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered angrily.

"You have to give this to her," Jaren said, holding the crest out to his sister. "I don't know what the fire Ordeal will be, but the amulet should protect her from whatever it is, and it'll mean I won't have to intervene personally again."

"You shouldn't have intervened today," Mirryn said firmly.

Jaren looked her straight in the eyes, begging, "Please, Mirry. I don't have time to explain - you have to go before someone catches you here. But I need you to do this for me."

"And how in the everworld will I explain it to her?" Mirryn demanded. "For that matter, how will I explain her miraculous survival from the Trial by Air?"

"That's easy," Caldon answered for Jaren. There was a smirk on his lips when he said, "Tell her Prince Deverick was enamored by her pretty face and couldn't bear to see her fall to her death. It's not even a lie."

Jaren shot his cousin a look, causing Caldon's smirk to grow.

"What?" Cal said innocently. "Am I wrong?"

"There's more to it than that," Jaren gritted out.

"Whatever you say, mate," Caldon said, straightening his dark cloak and not even trying to hide his amusement.

Jaren ignored Caldon to turn to his sister again, pleading with his eyes, until she relented. "You owe me for this," she grumbled, accepting the amulet. "Big time."

And then she spun on her heel and began stalking back down the path, calling over her shoulder, "I'll make a list of all the things I want you to buy me after you leave this horrid place. They're going to be outrageously expensive, and you won't say a single word."

She didn't wait for his agreement before disappearing beyond the gabbergrass.

Alone with Caldon, Jaren said, "You should go, too."

"In a minute," Cal said, stepping closer. His face was serious now, all traces of humor gone. "Naari filled us in briefly on as much as she could, but tell me the truth: is it worth it? Being here? Are you learning what you came for?"

Given the secrecy of his mission, and his last-minute swap with Eidran, Jaren hadn't had a chance to tell Caldon the full extent of his plans before leaving the winter palace. He knew his cousin was smart, though - too smart, sometimes, and reckless enough that he would have taken Jaren's place if he'd had any notice, which was the main reason why Jaren had kept him out of the loop. Even so, Jaren wouldn't have been surprised if Cal had figured out everything else on his own.

Because of that, and because of how much he respected his cousin, Jaren answered with complete honestly: "Not yet, but I just need a little more time."

Caldon tilted his head thoughtfully. "Time to integrate with the rebels... or time to cozy up to a certain spirited healer?"

Jaren opened his mouth and then closed it again, before sheepishly admitting, "Both." He cleared his throat and hurried on, "I'm here for the rebel information. But Kiva... " He shook his head. "She's special, Cal. I can't explain it."

Caldon was silent for a moment, considering Jaren's words, but then he asked, "Why fire only?" At Jaren's puzzled look, Cal explained, "The amulet. Why did you only send your fire magic into it? She'll still have water and earth to survive after that."

Understanding, Jaren replied, "Mirryn doesn't have water or earth magic, and 'Prince Deverick' doesn't either-supposedly. We're both only known publicly as having air and fire powers, so there would be no way to justify the two other elements to Kiva." He paused, then added, "Plus the risk of the amulet being taken from her after the second Trial is too high. Rooke or another guard will discover it, surely. And even if Naari manages to retrieve it again, I figured it was more important to send my power into the element Kiva needs next, rather than spread the amulet's magic too thin." This way she would have a higher level of protection as well, something Jaren instinctively felt she was going to need.

"That still leaves you two more Ordeals to help her with," Caldon pointed out.

"Those are problems for a later day," Jaren returned, painfully aware that his cousin was right. "One Trial at a time."

Caldon's lips twitched. "This healer girl has really done a number on you, hasn't she?"

Jaren didn't deny it. "You should go," he said again.

Caldon nodded, aware that their time was up. But he didn't turn and follow in Mirryn's footsteps yet. Instead, he said, "There's one more thing."

Jaren braced himself at the look on his cousin's face.

"I don't want to alarm you, but you need to hear this before I leave," Caldon said, the words causing fear to rise within Jaren, especially when Cal leaned in close, as if to share some dire news. Only when he was right in Jaren's face did he whisper, "You're absolutely filthy, mate. Like, gods-awful disgusting. I'm telling you this because I love you, but truly, you're beyond vile right now."

Jaren glared at his cousin and shoved him away, but seeing the laughter in Caldon's cobalt eyes had him rolling his own and huffing out, "They're hardly generous when it comes to soap allocations here, Cal. Personal hygiene isn't at the top of the survival list."

Caldon chuckled. "I'll make sure there's a hot bath waiting for you once you stage your prison break." He eyed Jaren from head to toe and scrunched his nose before murmuring, "For all our sakes."

Despite his words, Caldon ignored his own revulsion and pulled Jaren in for a back-slapping hug, heedless of the grime that was likely being smeared onto his own pristine clothes. "Be careful in here, cousin," Cal said into his ear. "Get the information, and then get out. Understood?"

Jaren nodded and returned Caldon's tight embrace. "You be careful, too. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Caldon grinned as he pulled away. "I'm not sure that's the warning you think it is, given your questionable actions of late."

Jaren had no rebuttal for that, so he just watched as Caldon turned and headed toward the infirmary. Like Mirryn, Cal sent his final words back over his shoulder, his tone laced with humor as he called, "I'm looking forward to chatting with your pretty healer once she awakens. If she's anywhere near as special as you claim, I'm sure she and I will become the best of friends. I'll be the gift she never knew she needed."

Before Jaren could utter a different kind of warning-the threatening kind - Caldon disappeared from sight.

Groaning at the thought of Kiva waking up and having to face not just his haughty sister, but also his rakish cousin, Jaren wondered if he should throw caution to the wind and chase after them. But he also knew it wasn't needed - Mirryn would behave, and Caldon was only goading him. They would do what was needed to protect his cover, and then they would leave.

And soon, once he had everything he'd come for, Jaren would follow them.

With Naari. And Tipp.

And Kiva.

The day was coming when they would be free of Zalindov prison - all of them.

They just had to survive long enough to see it.

And they would.

Because Jaren was determined to make it so, no matter what it cost.

Their freedom would come, and the future would be theirs to do whatever they wanted.

To live.

To hope.

And most of all-

To dream.

Standing at the edge of the Emelda Forest just outside of Oakhollow, Caldon Vallentis placed his hands on his hips and frowned as he watched Jaren, Kiva, Naari and Cresta gallop away down the tree-lined path.

He should be with them. He wanted to be with them. But Kiva had begged him to wait with Tipp and Galdric, both of whom were so exhausted from their strenuous journey that they were barely able to keep their eyes open, let alone make it back to Vallenia without resting first.

Caldon would give them half an hour, he'd decided. It was shorter than they needed, but longer than he wanted to wait, his impatience already clawing at him. He'd promised Kiva he would escort their two friends safely to the city, but he'd also told her, in no uncertain terms, that he planned to be with her when she faced her snake of a sister. While he instinctively knew that the final battle would come down to Kiva and Zuleeka alone - with Kiva's golden healing magic being the only thing that stood a chance against Zuleeka's shadowy death magic - there was no way he was going to let his best friend confront the Viper without him at her side.

And yet ... every minute that passed while Galdric and Tipp regained their strength was another minute that Kiva moved closer to her sister; another minute where Jaren, Naari and Cresta moved closer to Navok's awaiting army of anomalies; another minute where Caldon's own sister was likely already fighting against that army, along with Torell and Eidran and gods knew how many other people Cal cared about.

Gritting his teeth to keep from barking orders at his companions to get their asses up and moving, Caldon sucked in a deep, calming breath and sought patience. Galdric had used enormous quantities of magic to windfunnel them between destinations over recent days - it was a miracle he was even conscious right now. And Tipp had shown admirable resilience during their travels over the last few weeks - and beyond that, really, ever since Caldon had first met him at the winter palace five months ago-but his age was against him and his young body could only endure so much. The last thing any of them needed was to be pushed to leave too soon, resulting in one of them falling headfirst off their horse. Kiva would be furious if Cal let that happen.

He winced at the thought of her yelling at him, having been on the receiving end of her rare but potent temper before, and he quickly reminded himself that he would be just half an hour behind her and the others. She would be fine on her own until he joined them.

She had to be.

They all had to be.

But even trying his best to convince himself of that, it was agony for Caldon to not be with them right now, his magic and his sword ready to protect the people he loved most in the world. Ready to die for them, if needed.

Unconsciously, Caldon's hand moved to his blade, his fingers tightening around the pommel.

Soon, he told himself. Soon.

As if to confirm his inner voice was telling the truth, Cal glanced over to where Tipp lay on the ground near his grazing pony, noting that the boy's eyes were closed and he was lightly dozing. His red hair was a tangled mess and his freckled skin was smeared with travel dust, but there was some color returning to his cheeks - finally.

When Cal's gaze shifted to Galdric, he was surprised to find the older man looking steadily back at him. He was just as dirt-smeared as Tipp, his features more weathered than usual, and wisps of dark, graying hair had escaped the leather band holding back the rest-but his brown eyes were clear, not exhausted as they had been mere minutes ago when Kiva and the others had said their rushed goodbyes.

"You should try to sleep," Caldon told him quietly, careful not to wake Tipp. "We need to leave soon. Recover some energy while you can."

"And you?" Galdric asked, his voice also no longer sounding as weak as it had when he'd offered his parting words to Kiva, telling her how to use the Hand of the Gods once all four rings were in her possession, and reminding her - unnecessarily - of how dangerous Zuleeka was. "Are you going to rest? Or does the revered Vallentis bloodline mean you don't suffer the effects of weariness like the rest of us mere mortals?"

Caldon's brow furrowed at the strange, almost resentful note he detected in Galdric's tone, but the older man's face was as open and friendly as always, so Cal put it down to travel fatigue.

"I'm resting," Cal replied. "I'm just doing it standing."

It wasn't a lie. He was just as drained as the other members of their traveling party who had already raced away to Vallenia, but like them, he had the experience and fortitude to keep going, relying on adrenaline alone if needed. And besides, he was much too anxious about what was happening to their friends - or would soon be happening to them to just lie down and relax. Instead, every muscle in his body was filled with tension as he waited, waited, waited for enough time to pass so that he could coax Tipp and Galdric back up to their feet.

"It's funny, you know," Galdric mused.

The older man said no more, so Caldon asked, "What is?"

Galdric waved his hand toward the forest-lined path, the dust not yet fully settled after having been kicked up by their friends' horses galloping away.

"All this," Galdric said, somewhat nonsensically. "The timing of everything. The coincidence." A smile flitted onto his lips. "The convenience."

Caldon frowned, worried that Galdric's recent overuse of magic might have addled his wits. "I really think you should try to sleep," Cal said again, his voice and expression as encouraging as possible. "Give your body a chance to shut down and heal for a few minutes." His mind, too, Caldon thought, though he didn't add that part.

A low laugh left Galdric, but his amusement didn't reach his eyes. "You Vallentis royals - always looking out for others."

The same strange tone from earlier had returned to his voice, but this time Caldon didn't dismiss it as travel fatigue. He cocked his head to the side and looked closer at Galdric, studying the older man. There was nothing contrary in his features, though; nothing revealing any hint of the bitter emotion underpinning his words. Rather, it seemed as if his exhaustion had finally caught up to him-or returned to him - and after shuffling into a more comfortable position sitting against the base of a solid tree trunk, Galdric closed his eyes and rested his head back against the bark.

Cal rolled the tightness from his shoulders, unsure why Galdric's peculiar behavior rattled him so. The ex-rebel leader had fought hard to overcome his rocky start with their group, with none of them being quick to trust him upon his arrival into their lives. But despite their collective wariness, he'd pulled his weight-and then some - by wind - funneling them from kingdom to kingdom, cutting their travel time by weeks. Months, even. And his knowledge about the Hand of the Gods was second to none. Without him, they might still be twiddling their thumbs, waiting in vain for a plan to present itself.

Despite Galdric's helpfulness, Caldon had never fully warmed to him, even as the others had thawed over time. There was just something about him that rubbed Cal the wrong way-something he wasn't able to put his finger on. But since Galdric had proved useful time and time again - even so far as teaching Ashlyn how to windfunnel, and offering Kiva and Torell deeper insight regarding their mother and sister - Cal had found no reason to air his concerns. He knew Cresta shared his distrust, but... that was Cresta. She didn't trust anyone.

Unsurprising, given who she was.

Crestoria Vossendi Kildarion-the lost princess of Mirraven.

All thoughts of Galdric fled Caldon's mind as the fiery redhead took center stage. He smirked as he imagined her upcoming face-off with her brother, King Navok, certain it would be explosive-in more ways than one. Cal prayed to any gods listening that he would make it to Vallenia in time to witness their reunion, if only to see the shock on their friends' faces. Cresta had guarded her secret well; none of the others knew who she really was, and even she didn't realize Cal himself had figured it out. He couldn't wait for the truth to come out. And he also couldn't wait for her to kick her brother's ass straight to the everworld and take up the crown to which she was born.

A quiet chuckle left Cal as he realized she would soon outrank him. The Queen of Mirraven - she would lord that title over him, for sure. Not that he minded, since her doing so would mean he was still a part of her life. Just as it would mean she had survived the coming battle.

On that sobering thought, Caldon's humor swiftly vanished, and urgency thrummed through him again. He shifted from boot to boot, his impatience growing with every passing second. He wasn't used to feeling trapped and powerless. The only time in recent memory he'd experienced something similar was during the masquerade at the River Palace, when Zuleeka had used her dark powers to immobilize him and Kiva, right before she'd stabbed Jaren in the heart with the Eye of the Gods - leaving Kiva to heal him, and forcing Caldon to make a decision: his family, or his friend. If he hadn't already known about Kiva's hidden bloodline and where her true loyalties lay, the betrayal would have destroyed him, just as it had destroyed his cousin. But Cal had known - and when he'd looked into her tear-filled emerald eyes and seen her fear for Jaren, for Naari, for him, he'd known there was no way he could abandon her to any punishment she would face for her sister's actions.

A sour feeling hit Caldon's stomach as he realized that was what he had inadvertently done. Run, he'd told her - only for her to fall straight into the hands of Mirryn and Zuleeka, and end up right back in Zalindov, addicted to angeldust and longing for death.

Caldon swallowed down bile, a reaction he had every time he thought of her weeks spent at the prison - weeks when he'd believed she was hiding in Vallenia, or seeking refuge somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Not once in the days following the masquerade had he considered that she might have been living a nightmare worse than what he and the newly magicless Jaren had endured as they'd fled the city with the comatose Naari in their care. Caldon regularly woke with night sweats from dreaming about those harrowing weeks, but even so, he knew they couldn't possibly compare to what Kiva had suffered in that time.

Or what she had suffered over the rest of her life.

Inhaling deeply, Caldon told himself that the end was in sight - for Kiva, and for all of them. As soon as she, Jaren, Naari, and Cresta reached the palace, they would find the final ring, and then Kiva would use the Hand to give Jaren back his magic. They would stop Navok's army, they would defeat Zuleeka, they would reclaim Evalon... and they would all live happily ever after, just like in the storybooks Caldon's parents used to read him as a child.

A pang of heartache hit him as he recalled those brighter days of his youth: the mother and father who had been everything to him, taken much too soon, followed swiftly by his regret at pushing his sister away for so many years. But while his parents were lost to him forever, he at least had Ashlyn back in his life now. They would have time - they would win the battle for their kingdom, and they would enjoy their own blissful storybook lives. He had to believe that. He had to-

An anguished moan tore into Caldon's thoughts, and his eyes swung to Galdric, only to find the man jerking uncontrollably. Panic shot through Cal as he leapt forward, the moaning now loud enough to wake Tipp.

"Wha's h-happ'ning?" the young boy slurred as he sat upright and rubbed his eyes, his voice thick with sleep.

Caldon didn't answer, focusing solely on reaching Galdric's side and leaning down to steady the man's body by pressing his convulsing shoulders back against the tree trunk. "Galdric. Galdric! Wake up!"

If anything, the ex-rebel leader jerked and moaned more violently, his eyes rolling behind fluttering lids.

Caldon knew the basics of combat healing - how to suture an open wound, how to strap a broken bone - but whatever ailed Galdric was far beyond his skill set. He cursed as he quickly debated whether slapping the man across the face would make him snap out of his convulsions, or if that would cause more damage. But then he remembered that Tipp had worked as Kiva's helper for years, and he yelled for the boy, startling when he discovered him already at his side.

"Tipp, do you know what-"

Before Caldon could finish, Galdric suddenly stopped jerking. His eyes shot open and a look of triumph lit his features as he moved blindingly fast, slashing his hand upwards-

Along with the glinting silver dagger clenched in his grip.

Cal had spent years honing his reflexes, and that was the only reason why he was able to ignore his shock and react quickly enough to push Tipp away, while lurching backwards to avoid a death blow from Galdric's previously concealed weapon. Even so, the delay in getting Tipp safe meant the blade grazed Caldon's side, the steel sharp enough to tear through a vulnerable seam between the folds of his black leather armor and slice into his flesh.

Caldon hissed at the sting, but he'd been stabbed enough times in the past to know it was a shallow wound. He gave no mind to it and acted on instinct, latching onto Galdric's wrist and squeezing until he could feel the bones grind together, causing the ex-rebel leader to grunt and drop the dagger. Only then did Caldon haul him to his feet and shove him against the tree, before unsheathing his own blade to point it at the ex-rebel leader's throat.

"What the hell, Galdric?" Caldon seethed.

For some reason, his voice sounded strange to his own ears. Almost like it was coming from far away.

Galdric didn't seem to fear Caldon's wrath, despite the sword-tip pressed against his windpipe. There was no concern in his expression, just the same triumphant glee as before, but magnified now as his eyes darted down to Cal's slashed armor and the small trickle of blood seeping from his wound.

"Explain yourself," Caldon growled, aware of Tipp rising shakily to his feet and stepping close behind him. "You have three seconds before I skewer you."

Galdric's lips curled upwards. "I doubt you'll be able to with your injury, but by all means, you can try."

Caldon's eyes narrowed at the flippant response, but he wasn't going to waste his breath telling the ex-rebel leader about his previous stab wounds and how they'd been considerably more life-threatening. The scar across his gut - a gift from one of the assassin-monks of the Serpent Isles - had left him at the edge of the everworld for days. Gods, even Kiva had stabbed Caldon worse than Galdric had, his shoulder forever marked by her accidental attack. The sting he felt in his side now was nothing compared to his past wounds, and it was certainly undeserving of Galdric's gloating.

But just as Caldon was about to demand an answer one final time, his vision blurred, and his sword arm became unbearably heavy. Before he could blink his eyes clear, his body began tingling enough that his fingers turned numb, and his weapon tumbled from his grip. There was no time to wonder what was happening to him as nausea unlike anything he'd ever known slammed into him, his stomach becoming a riot of pain. He doubled over, but as he did so, a blazing anguish traveled along his bones, over his flesh, making him feel like he was being burned alive. His muscles seized - and then gave out completely.

Caldon would have fallen hard to the earth if Tipp hadn't lurched forward to catch him, the poor boy nearly crushed by his heavy weight. But Tipp didn't complain. He was yelling something, crying something, pleading with Cal, screaming at Galdric.

The agony spearing through Caldon was so strong that he wanted to thrash and writhe and shriek for relief, but he couldn't move, capable only of watching through pained, hazy eyes as Galdric bent down to retrieve his dagger. When the ex-rebel leader rose, there was a smirk on his face as he said, his voice apathetic, "In case you're wondering about your condition, I laced the blade with necros venom. I'm told it's torturously painful, but have no fear - it works rapidly, so you won't feel this way for long." His smirk grew as he sheathed his dagger. "Very soon the world will have one less Vallentis spawn to bow down to."

"N-N-No!" Tipp cried as he crouched over Caldon, his face white and his blue eyes terrified. But then those eyes widened in wonder, and the next instant he was gone, scrambling away before returning again lightning-fast. There was something in his hands, something he was forcing against Caldon's lips as he begged, "Drink, C-Cal. P-P-Please, you have t-to drink!"

A bark of laughter left Galdric. "Do you really think water is going to help him, boy? There's no cure for necros venom in all of Wenderall. Kiva's magic might be able to save him, but she's halfway to Vallenia and would never make it back in time." He grinned darkly. "How sad."

Caldon began choking as Tipp continued to pour water down his throat, most of it dribbling over the side of his face.

"P-P-Please, Cal!" Tipp sobbed, tears now streaming from his dread-filled eyes. "P-Please!"

Hacking, wheezing breaths left Caldon as he kept choking, his lungs refusing to work, the burning in his body making him feel as if his own magical flames were searing him from the inside out. He wished he could comfort Tipp, even wished he could summon the words to tell the boy to run and hide in the forest before Galdric could take him as a hostage for whatever his nefarious plans were.

Caldon knew he should have trusted his instincts about the man.

But there was nothing he could do about it now, since blackness was already dotting the edges of his vision. His breaths grew more and more labored as the pain began to fade - and while that was a welcome relief, Cal knew it didn't bode well for him.

"It won't be long now," Galdric said, confirming Caldon's thoughts, his voice barely audible to Cal's failing ears. Distantly, he heard Tipp give a yelp, and with the last of his darkening vision, he saw Galdric dragging the sobbing boy away.

Cal tried to fight the pain, tried to push through the growing numbness to protect his young friend, but it was useless - his limbs refused to so much as twitch.

And then Galdric's final words reached him, his voice cruel and full of promise as he spoke not to Caldon, but to Tipp: "There's nothing you can do for him - he's beyond anyone's help now. Come, child. My friend King Navok is waiting for us."

At the mention of the Mirraven king, a fresh wave of agony speared through Caldon's numbness as he realized just how thoroughly Galdric had played them, right from the very beginning. But the cocktail of emotions he felt-despair, fury, dismay-faded as fast as they came, vanishing with what remained of his consciousness.

Caldon had always thought his life would flash before his eyes in the moments before his death, but the necros venom was working too quickly, stealing what remaining time he had. As he took his final rasping breaths, regret filled him as he realized he'd never get the storybook ending he'd hoped for-he'd never get to make up for lost time with Ashlyn, never see Cresta become queen, never watch Tipp grow into a man, never witness Kiva and Jaren get married and have disgustingly adorable children. There was so much he would miss out on - an entire future. His, and theirs.

But as much as that grieved him, there was something else that plagued his final thoughts: the knowledge that by dying, he was breaking a promise.

No goodbyes, he'd told Kiva upon their parting. I'll see you soon.

A different kind of pain scoured through Caldon, breaking his heart even as his body yielded completely to the numbness.

He wasn't ready to die - not just for himself, but for them. His friends, his family.

No goodbyes. I'll see you soon.

He had to fight. He had to survive. He had to live for them.

But before he could figure out how to do that, the darkness closed in, and he had no choice but to fall into the waiting oblivion.

Caldon had never given much thought to the everworld, but if he had, he would have imagined it to be a place filled with rolling green valleys and shimmering blue lakes, an afterlife where peace and contentment reigned, and there was no such thing as pain or grief.

He really should have visited one of the ancient temples during his short lifespan and asked a priest what to expect, because if the agony he felt throbbing through his entire body was going to be with him forever, then this definitely wasn't a future he would have signed up for.

Caldon's eyes remained closed as the pain swept through him, but slowly, ever so slowly, it began to ease. It was still there, only muted now, and growing more distant with every passing moment. This he could live with - or not live with, as it were. He could handle an eternity of subdued aching, though he would certainly prefer the peaceful valleys-and-lakes version of the afterlife.

A resigned sigh left him, and he realized he should probably open his eyes and see what he had to work with for the rest of his - well, not days, but whatever counted for time in the everworld.

Only, when his lids finally fluttered open, the sight that greeted him wasn't what he expected.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, brother."

Caldon's mouth gaped open as he peered frantically around, wincing at the burning pain the movement caused before it faded once again. He barely felt it, too stunned by the sterile walls surrounding him and the large windows opening into a garden sanctuary dappled in afternoon sunlight.

A familiar garden sanctuary.

He was at Silverthorn.

That meant he was alive.

And sitting in a chair beside his bed was Ashlyn, her skin a patchwork of scrapes and bruises, her pale hair pulled back in a haphazard braid, and her clothes rumpled from keeping vigil by his bedside. But her silvery eyes were filled with relief

And with victory.

Caldon focused on the first, since he was unable to consider what the second meant just yet, and the questions that came with it.

"How am I here?" he rasped out.

Ashlyn grimaced, reading into the words he didn't say - the implicit, "How am I not dead?"

"You're lucky to be," Ash said, taking his hand as if it were a lifeline. "Tipp saved you."

Caldon blinked in surprise, which only grew when his sister went on to explain how the young boy had - unknowingly - been given an arcane cure for necros venom from the Mystican they'd met at the Midnight Markets; how he'd kept the gift and the cryptic words she'd shared a secret for fear that the rest of them would think him crazy for heeding her warnings; how he'd realized only upon Galdric's attack what he had to do - and how he'd believed he'd failed.

"The poor kid was a mess when Captain Veris asked him to take us to your body," Ashlyn said, her expression haunted from her own memories of that task. But then she cleared her throat, and her voice was stronger, even amused, as she continued, "You should have seen him when we found you still breathing. We could barely pry him away from you - I had no idea the kid had such a strong grip."

A hint of recollection flickered across Caldon's mind: the sound of pounding hooves on a tree-lined path, people crying out in surprise, a familiar young voice gasping his name before small arms wrapped around his torso in a desperate, rib-cracking embrace. The image was distant, little more than a whisper in his thoughts, like the lingering dregs of a fading dream.

"I officially have a new favorite person," Caldon said, his voice rough with gratitude for the young boy.

"Me too," Ashlyn agreed, her own voice husky with feeling, her silvery eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"C'mere," Cal said softly, tugging her close with the hand she still held.

She didn't need telling twice, leaning forward into his awaiting arms while being careful to avoid the white bandage circling just beneath his ribcage.

"I thought I lost you," Ashlyn whispered, shuddering against him.

"You should know by now that I'm not easy to get rid of," Cal said, his tone purposefully light as he patted her shoulder in comfort. "And even when you do get rid of me, I keep coming back. Like a puppy."

Ashlyn loosened her grip and sat upright again in time for Caldon to send her a jaunty grin, to which she responded with a roll of her eyes and a murmured, "More like a cockroach."

Caldon pressed a hand to his heart. "Hey, I'm wounded here. Show some compassion for your poor brother."

"You're hardly wounded," Ashlyn scoffed. "I've had worse paper cuts."

Caldon frowned - not at her lack of sympathy, but because he remembered now that she was right: Galdric's dagger had only grazed him.

Seeing his confusion, Ash took pity on him and explained, "It's the necros venom. Healer Maddis said it basically shut down all your internal organs, poisoning your blood and burning you from the inside out. She also said you'll feel lingering pain for a while until it's completely out of your system-but she's unsure how long that will take, since she's never met anyone who has survived it before."

In an effort to ignore how those words seemed to inflame the ache he felt rippling through his body - and to ease the concern he saw on his sister's face - Caldon smiled cockily and said, "I always knew I was special."

This time, Ashlyn's eye roll was even more pronounced.

But then she bit her lip, as if considering her next words, before hesitantly sharing, "You've been unconscious for three days. Even with the Mystican's cure, we weren't sure if we didn't know when - " She sucked in a shaky breath. "I'm just glad you're awake."

Caldon was stuck on the fact that he'd been at Silverthorn for three days - and all that it implied. It was time to start asking the questions that mattered, even if he was apprehensive about the answers.

"Since you're here and not wearing armor and rushing out to command our troops," Cal said, "should I assume the fighting is over and I missed all the excitement?"

With clear disbelief, Ashlyn stated, "Only you would call a blood-thirsty battle against magic-wielders and foreign kingdoms 'exciting.""

Caldon arched an eyebrow. "Repeat that sentence in your head and tell me how it doesn't sound exciting to you?"

Ashlyn looked up at the ceiling as if seeking divine patience. When she turned back to Cal, she said, somewhat dryly, "Yes, brother dearest, you missed all the 'excitement.' But since I'm here, as you oh-so-wisely noted, you've also likely already guessed that we won."

Relief hit Cal, even if he had already figured as much. Even so, he still wanted the details, so he began listing them off. "Navok?"

"Dead."

"By Cresta's hand?"

Ashlyn looked surprised by his assumption, then realization hit her and she gaped at him. "You knew?" At his smirk, she frowned and grumbled, "How is it that you always know everything?"

Any pride Caldon felt vanished swiftly as his thoughts darkened. "I didn't know about Galdric. Tell me the bastard got what he deserved?"

Ash's eyes became like storm clouds. "He did. I'll let Aunt Ariana explain what happened since she had the pleasure of witnessing his death, but trust me when I say he got what was coming to him."

With a satisfied nod, Cal moved on to his next question - the one he was the most afraid of asking.

We're in this together, Sunshine. You and me.

That was what he'd told Kiva, right before he'd promised her that he'd see her again soon and they would face her sister together.

He'd had no way of knowing what would happen to him, but still... the fact that he'd unintentionally broken his promise, that he'd left her all alone in the battle of her life...

Swallowing, he held Ashlyn's gaze as he stumbled over the words. "Is Zuleeka - Is she - Did Kiva-"

Ashlyn looked down at her hands, and for a moment, Caldon's heart stopped. But then she answered, "Kiva defeated her. Zuleeka's magic is gone, and she's locked in the palace dungeons, awaiting trial. She won't hurt anyone, ever again."

The breath left Caldon in a whoosh, causing pain to flare anew. It was becoming less muted the longer their conversation continued, but he wasn't about to worry his sister by mentioning his growing discomfort.

Instead, he focused on the knee-weakening relief he felt about Kiva's victory and asked, "Did Jaren get his magic back?"

"Yes, Kiva managed to use the Hand of the Gods on him before she-" Ash coughed, then seemed to change what she'd been going to say, quickly continuing with, "Before she confronted Zuleeka. It worked just as we were told - with a few last-minute surprises - so at least Galdric didn't lie about its power, though he did have his own reasons for wanting access to it."

At Caldon's questioning look, Ashlyn shared what she knew about the ex-rebel leader's deal with Navok. The whole time she spoke, she continued to avoid eye contact, and alarm bells began ringing in Caldon's mind.

Reaching out to tip her chin up, he asked, "What aren't you telling me?"

The look in Ashlyn's eyes... for once, Caldon couldn't read her. Worry, sorrow, fear - and a million other emotions flitted across her features, making him even more anxious for her answer. "Ash, what-" Caldon began to repeat, but he was interrupted when the door to his room opened and Healer Maddis walked in, her gray eyes widening behind her glasses when she saw he was awake.

Before anyone could say anything, she began gently scolding a shame-faced Ashlyn for not summoning her the moment Caldon regained consciousness, as Ash had apparently been instructed. The next minute, the healer was ignoring Caldon's protests as she handed him tonic after tonic, her stern, no-nonsense look indicating she wouldn't be leaving until he swallowed every drop.

"It's a miracle you're even alive, Your Highness," the Matron Healer said, checking his pulse before fluffing his pillows and tucking in his blankets. "Please allow me to do my job so we can keep you that way, hmm?"

When she put it like that, Caldon could hardly object. And since his pain was increasing with every second that he was awake, he found himself secretly grateful for her tonics, hoping they would provide him with the relief he needed to finish his conversation with Ashlyn without having to hide his winces.

But too late did he recognize the familiar taste of poppymilk mixed with moradine, the strength of the two powerful drugs working quickly as they entered his bloodstream.

"Sleep, Prince Caldon," Healer Maddis told him softly, her voice already fading as his aches vanished, his limbs grew light, and his eyelids fluttered shut. "Your body needs time to heal, and your sister will no doubt be here again when you awaken."

As he drifted into unconsciousness, the last thing Cal heard was Ashlyn quietly asking, "Has there been any change?"

Followed by Maddis sighing wearily as she replied, "Nothing yet. Her wound was severe - I'm afraid we've done all we can. Let's just pray she has the same will to survive as your brother. It's the only thing that will bring her back to us now."

The words made no sense to Caldon, but he couldn't question them before sleep claimed him, and then he forgot them entirely as he fell into blissful nothingness.

Despite the Matron Healer's promise, Ashlyn wasn't beside Cal's bedside when he next woke.

But someone else was.

Cresta sat in the chair Ashlyn had vacated, bathed in moonlight spilling in from the window. Unlike Ash, whose posture had held an air of concern even when relaxed, Cresta had the seat tipped back and her feet were resting casually on Caldon's bed, seemingly uncaring about anything - or anyone - as she reclined there, cleaning her nails with a dagger.

Caldon, however, knew differently. He watched her through his lashes, using the moment before she realized he was awake to take her in, noting the partially healed wounds on her exposed flesh, and the weight that seemed to have lifted from her shoulders.

Along with the new weight that had appeared there.

It was a weight Caldon was familiar with, having been born to it - just as she had been.

Finally, he spoke. "What, no crown?"

Cresta didn't jump at his words, indicating that perhaps she had known he was awake. Instead, the only part of her that moved were her hazel eyes, which lifted from her dagger to meet his.

"It clashed with my hair."

Caldon snorted at the lie, since her twisted red locks would only look more magnificent when topped with gem-encrusted gold. Even so, he played along. "And they call me vain."

"They call you lots of things," she returned. "Vain is the least of your worries."

Caldon's lips twitched, but he didn't reply, since he knew she was deliberately stalling.

When his silence became too much for her, Cresta huffed out a breath and lowered her feet from his bed, sitting up straight. Her gaze turned serious as she asked, "How long have you known?"

"Long enough," Cal answered honestly.

She frowned. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Caldon shrugged, then winced as he was reminded - painfully - of the venom still working its way out of his body. "I figured it was your secret to tell who you wanted, when you wanted." His mouth quirked up as he added, "And I also wanted to avoid you threatening to kick my ass if I breathed a word to anyone. Besides, it was more entertaining this way, seeing how oblivious everyone was- and watching you trying to keep it that way."

Cresta looked away from him, her frown deepening. He wasn't sure if he'd angered her with his admission - he never knew which way her emotions might land, given her fiery temperament. That was another reason why he hadn't confronted her: because he'd feared risking what had been slowly growing between them by forcing her to put up her walls and push him away. He didn't regret his choice, even if it meant he was now waiting with bated breath to see how she would react to learning that her secret hadn't been a secret - at least, not to him.

But instead of being mad, when she turned back to him, there was something unexpected in her eyes.

Guilt.

"I should have told you," she said softly. "I should have trusted you."

Caldon reached out and took her hand in his, careful of her still-healing cuts and scrapes. "I don't blame you, Cres. You seemed pretty torn about it all. My guess is you weren't even sure up until the very end whether you were going to do anything about it - am I right?"

Surprise lit Cresta's eyes, as if she hadn't anticipated his insightfulness, and she slowly nodded. "I was wrestling with the decision for weeks, but it wasn't until I was standing in front of my brother that I truly understood how much Mirraven would be better off without him as its king. Once I realized that... " This time it was she who shrugged. "I did what I had to do."

"And now you're their queen."

Cresta cringed, the expression making Caldon bark out a laugh, then grimace from the ache it caused.

"Don't look too excited, Your Majesty," he drawled.

A dangerous smile touched Cresta's lips as she leaned forward and said, "Call me that again, and I'll make sure your stay here is permanent."

If Caldon had been a fearful man, he might have shivered at the threat in her voice. Instead, he just grinned. "Liar. You'd miss me too much."

"Your body, perhaps," Cresta allowed, her gaze heating as she took in his shirtless, bandaged torso, lingering on where the blanket had fallen down to his waist. "Pity the rest of you has to come with it."

Caldon's grin only widened. "A pity, indeed." He patted the space beside him, then invited, "Why don't you come up here and remind me exactly what it is that you like about my body? Feel free to show rather than tell."

To Cal's frustration, the heat vanished from Cresta's eyes, though a smirk grazed her lips as she said, "Nice try, princeling. But you're on strict bed rest orders."

"I'm resting, and in bed," Cal pointed out, patting the mattress again.

Cresta's smirk grew. "If I were to join you, there wouldn't be any resting involved."

"I don't have a problem with that," Caldon said. "In fact, I fully support that idea."

A quiet laugh left Cresta, her features softening as she shook her head at him, her eyes bright with humor. "Points for trying. Though I'm surprised you're even in the mood, given everything. I know there's nothing we can do besides wait, but still... I guess I expected you to be more worried."

Caldon cocked his head to the side, not following. "What are you talking about?"

Cresta seemed confused by his question, but then she stilled. "Hasn't - Hasn't anyone told you? About Kiva?"

Cal's heart rate began to speed up. "What about Kiva?"

Cresta swore under her breath, then again, louder. Hesitantly, she said, "Cal, she was hurt in the battle. Badly."

At the careful tone of her voice, Caldon's body turned to ice. A hazy memory flitted across his mind, voices whispering just before he lost consciousness, with Healer Maddis telling Ashlyn: Let's just pray she has the same will to survive as your brother. It's the only thing that will bring her back to us now.

Panic shot through Caldon and he rasped out, "What happened?"

Cresta's fingers tightened around the hand he still held, only now she was the one holding him. "Zuleeka hurled the Eye of the Gods at Jaren, but Kiva jumped in its path to save him."

Horror filled Caldon, since he knew what that meant for Kiva - and for her magic

"She might have been all right-or at least not as gravely hurt - if she'd left the dagger in until help arrived, but she pulled it out so she could use it on Zuleeka to nullify her power. She - Kiva - she lost a lot of blood." Cresta swallowed. "Almost too much. But that's not the main concern. The blade pierced some of her vital organs. The healers have been working around the clock on her, but Maddis says there's severe internal bleeding. They've stabilized her as much as they can, but - Hey, wait! What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?" Caldon said, in the process of shoving his blankets away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I need to see her."

Cresta leapt up from her chair, her hands going straight to her hips. "You need to keep your ass in this bed until you've been cleared to leave it," she returned firmly, her scowl indicating he would have to go through her to reach Kiva.

"I'm fine," Cal argued, hiding his grimace as he lowered his feet to the sterile floor and prepared to stand. "Please, Cres, you have to take me to-"

The second he placed his weight onto his heels, pain seared through his body, as if a thousand scorpions had decided to sting him all at once. The burn was so strong that he gasped and fell forward, and only kept from crumpling to the ground because Cresta lunged to catch him.

With an uncanny - and unfortunate sense of timing, Healer Maddis opened the door to Caldon's room right then, her lips thinning and eyes narrowing at the sight before her.

"Back in bed, now," the Matron Healer ordered, marching over, and, together with Cresta, forcing Caldon onto the mattress.

"I can't stay here," Caldon objected through gritted teeth, the pain still rippling through him in waves, making him both lightheaded and nauseous. Sweat dotted his brow, but he ignored it, trying to push feebly past the two women so he could attempt standing again. Despite his best efforts, he felt as weak as a mouse, and they easily held him down. "You don't understand. I need to be with Kiva."

Maddis raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, can you do for her that I and my best healers haven't already tried?"

Caldon opened his mouth, but then closed it again just as quickly, feeling both useless and helpless.

Whatever the Matron Healer saw in his expression made her own features soften. She reached for his shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze as she said, gently, "The best thing you can do for her is give your body the time it needs to heal, so that you can be strong for her when she wakes. You'll do no one any favors by pushing yourself too quickly. Can you at least try to trust me on that and be a good patient, just for a few more days? Kiva isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

Caldon flinched at the reminder, hating the idea of his best friend lying close to death somewhere nearby - especially since he hadn't even known.

We're in this together, Sunshine. You and me.

If only he'd been there for her when she'd needed him. If only he hadn't

"Stop that," Cresta hissed, reading his expression. She grabbed his jaw - painfully - and turned him to face her. "It's absolutely not your fault Kiva was hurt. Everworld help me, you Vallentis princes and your guilt complexes." She rolled her eyes. "At least it makes sense for Jaren to feel that way, since she jumped in front of a blade meant for him. But you-" She shook her head in disgust. "Snap out of it. Blaming yourself won't change what happened. And for the record, Kiva would be the first person to remind you that she's a big girl who can make her own choices, and she made this one knowing exactly what she was doing. Give her some credit, would you?" Cresta held his eyes as she finished, quieter, "I'm worried about her too, Cal, but she's Kiva - she's a survivor. And now more than ever, she has something to live for. She's going to be fine. She just needs time."

"As do you, Your Highness," Healer Maddis interjected. "So heed my instructions, take your medicine, and don't you dare even think about leaving this bed again until I say you can." Her tone became steely as she threatened, "I'll post a guard outside your door if I have to - so don't make me have to."

Cresta tried unsuccessfully to turn her snicker into a cough, heedless of the frown Caldon sent her. But he couldn't stay annoyed at her for long, especially as he heard her words repeat in his mind and allowed them to comfort him.

She was right - Kiva was a survivor. She'd survived ten years on her own at Zalindov, and then a return visit back there more recently. She'd survived heartache and heartbreak, from both her family and his, and others besides. She'd survived more trauma and torment than most people he'd met in his life, combined. If anyone could live through whatever wound she'd sustained in the battle, it was her - Caldon had to believe that. There was simply no other outcome that he would accept. Should the worst happen and she fell into the everworld, he would just have to find a way to follow her there and bring her back again.

He doubted he would be alone in that endeavor.

"You've stopped attempting to push us aside, so can I assume that means you're going to behave?" Healer Maddis asked.

Caldon gave a curt nod, even if his weakened body had made the decision for him.

"Excellent," the Matron Healer said, clearly relieved. She then proceeded to pull numerous vials from within the folds of her white robes, shoving them toward him. "Now take these. They'll ease the pain you're feeling - don't look at me like that; I am many things, young man, but a fool is not one of them-and they'll also help accelerate your healing, dispelling the poison from your blood."

Knowing there was no point in arguing, Caldon swallowed the tonics, pulling a face at the clashing flavors, before chasing them with a generous dose of poppymilk. Cresta and Maddis were right: there was nothing he could do for Kiva now, fragile as he was, so he would rest and recover while she - gods willing - did the same.

... And then the moment he was able to stand on his own, he would be leaving his bed to find his friend, Maddis's orders be damned.

***

Caldon's impatience grew exponentially over the next few days as his condition improved at a snail's pace. Frustrated, he tried to sneak out of his room just the once-and crashed straight to the ground when his legs collapsed beneath him. Thankfully, there were no witnesses, and he was able to - very painfully - pull himself back up onto his bed before the next rotation of healers arrived to check his vitals and give him more medicine.

His failed attempt at seeing Kiva only made him more determined to regain his strength, at least enough to do something as basic as walk, but he had limited chances to court Maddis's wrath by trying to escape his room again, since it was rare for him to be left alone in it.

Ashlyn and Cresta continued to drop by at all hours of the day and night, both making sure he was following the Matron Healer's instructions and resting, as promised. They did their best to keep him entertained, and offered updates on Kiva and their other friends, aware of how restless he was feeling.

He had other visitors, too, starting with his aunt the morning after he first awoke. The Queen of Evalon spent a good chunk of time catching him up on all that had happened since he, Jaren, and Naari had fled Vallenia over three months earlier, and she also shared a detailed account of Galdric's demise: how the rings hadn't combined to form the true Hand of the Gods, and how they'd instead backfired on the ex-rebel leader and turned him to ash - something about which Caldon felt a deep satisfaction, with no shame whatsoever.

Jaren was next to visit, though he only stayed long enough to pull Caldon into a deep, shuddering embrace and say how relieved he was to see him awake. The shadows beneath his eyes hinted that he'd barely slept since the battle, and the wrinkles in his clothes indicated he'd spent almost every moment at Kiva's bedside. It was Caldon himself who shooed Jaren out of his room after a few minutes, saying he'd follow as soon as he was able. It cost him dearly - he desperately wanted to accompany his cousin so they could wait together for Kiva to awaken, but at least one of them was with her, for now.

Like Jaren, Torell visited only briefly, his rumpled appearance proving that he, too, remained mostly glued to Kiva's side. It was Ashlyn who came and dragged him away, saying the rebels needed him for something and that Kiva would understand if he left Silverthorn for all of thirty minutes. Tor didn't look convinced, but Ashlyn worked her charms, winking in triumph at Cal when she finally managed to tug Tor out of sight.

Eidran and Naari came soon after that with Tipp in tow, the Royal Guards not even trying to hold the young boy back as he leapt forward and tackled Caldon. If Cal hadn't already been reclining in bed, he would have fallen straight on his ass, given the force behind Tipp's attack. But the surge of pain it prompted didn't stop Cal from returning the embrace just as fiercely, while whispering a heartfelt "Thank you" into the boy's ear. Tipp's only response was to sniffle loudly, causing Caldon's own eyes to turn misty as he held his friend close, the two of them forever bound by what happened on that dirt road outside of Oak-hollow.

Tipp, Eidran and Naari stayed longer than anyone else aside from Cresta and Ashlyn, but eventually they, too, left - if only because Healer Maddis appeared and bluntly told them that it was time for Cal to sleep.

For three days Caldon suffocated under the watchful eyes of the Matron Healer and her acolytes, until finally, on what he calculated to be his sixth day at Silverthorn, he felt strong enough to test his body again.

This time, his legs didn't fold beneath him, and he could have crowed with victory. He was still in pain, though it wasn't as strong as it had been when he'd first regained consciousness, and it was certainly manageable for what he planned to do that morning.

He just had to pick his timing, because if the Matron Healer caught him... if she so much as suspected his intentions...

The last thing he needed was for her to follow through on her threat to post a guard outside his room - and he didn't doubt that she would, if given the slightest indication that one might be needed.

It was agony waiting for the healers to complete their morning rounds, and even more agony waiting for Maddis to arrive to look him over herself, humming with approval when she found him obediently in bed, just like every other time she checked on him. He was careful to yawn loudly in her presence and burrow deeper into his blankets, saying he didn't sleep well the night before and that he was grateful for the new batch of tonics her acolytes had given him, since they would help him doze off into a nice, long nap before lunch.

Only, he hadn't taken the medicine. Because unlike Maddis, her healer underlings didn't keep as close a watch on him, so they had no idea that he'd stashed the vials under his pillow rather than downing them on command like a puppet.

He would swallow them later - he would likely need them later, since his escape would surely wear him out and maybe even inflame the venom still lingering in his blood - but now that he was able to bear his own weight, he wanted to keep his wits about him for the best chance of success that day.

Finally - finally - Maddis patted him on his blanketed knee and wandered from his room, calling over her shoulder, "Enjoy your nap, Prince Caldon. I'll see you again in a few hours."

That was more than enough time for Cal to sneak out and return again, with her none the wiser. He bid her farewell, adding another loud yawn to keep up appearances, and then waited what he hoped was long enough before he carefully pulled himself out of bed and threw a soft white shirt on over his navy pajama pants. The movement prompted a flare of pain, but it faded again quickly, giving Cal the confidence he needed to walk slowly toward the door.

Peeping around the doorframe, he loosed a relieved breath when he found no sign of the Matron Healer lurking in the perfectly clean corridor. There were other white-robed healers, though, and what looked like a group of trainee students as well, so Caldon did what always worked in situations such as these: he straightened his shoulders, raised his chin, and strode purposefully out of his room, acting for all the world as if he was allowed to be there. Numerous people gave him second glances as they passed by - it wasn't every day that a Vallentis prince walked the halls of Silverthorn, let alone wearing such casual attire - but no one stopped him. Even the familiar acolytes who had been checking his vitals over the last few days didn't question whether he had permission to move around yet, his assured bearing leading them to assume he'd been cleared to do so.

Caldon would have laughed if he wasn't so focused on maintaining his guise.

Thankfully, he'd gleaned enough information from his visitors over the last few days to know which room Kiva was in, so he made his way directly there. Taking a left, a right, and another right through the sterile healing complex, he soon found her door, opening it quietly and ducking inside.

The sight that awaited him caused his heart to lodge in his throat.

Kiva lay deathly still in her bed, her skin as pale as the blankets, her normally bright eyes closed. If not for the steady rise and fall of her chest, she could have been a corpse.

The thought made Caldon shudder, and he forced his gaze from her to where Jaren sat by her side, holding her hand and whispering in her ear, even though it was clear she couldn't hear him. Torell was also in the room, standing by the window and staring out at the picturesque gardens, as if hoping they might solve the mystery of how to revive his sister.

Six days she'd been like this, and while the updates Caldon had been given indicated that the healers believed she was out of the woods, she still hadn't regained consciousness.

Looking at her now, seeing how lifeless she appeared, Caldon prayed they were right about it being a matter of "when," and not "if."

Moving cautiously forward, he approached Kiva's bedside, nodding to Jaren and Tor when their eyes came to him. They didn't seem surprised to see him there - they knew him well enough that his sneaking in had only been a matter of time - and after they offered a quiet confirmation that Kiva's condition hadn't changed, none of them spoke again, since there were no words to convey the depth of what they were all feeling.

Time passed slowly as Caldon sat beside his friend holding her free hand, just as Jaren was doing on her opposite side. He knew he would eventually need to return to his room to avoid Maddis hunting him down and dragging him away, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.

Cal wasn't sure how long he sat there, willing strength into Kiva, before the door to her room opened. He tensed and turned toward it, fearing the arrival of the stern Matron Healer, but it wasn't Maddis - it was Ashlyn. Seeing Cal, she rolled her eyes and huffed out an amused breath, but otherwise kept her censure to herself as she approached their small group.

"I'm sorry, but I can't hold them off any longer," she said without preamble, her words directed to Jaren and Torell, causing Caldon to frown with confusion.

"I don't care - I won't leave her alone," Jaren replied hoarsely, shifting even closer to Kiva. Tor just nodded, indicating he felt the same.

"Then I guess it's lucky that Cal has proven to be both predictable and asinine when it comes to disobeying orders," Ash said wryly, "since it means he can watch over her until you return. Isn't that right, brother dearest?"

While Caldon didn't appreciate the "asinine" slur, his curiosity about the rest took precedence. "What's going on?"

"These two have to come with me," his sister answered, jerking a finger at Jaren and Tor. Softer, she shared, "The Royal Council is meeting to cast their judgements on Mirryn and Zuleeka. Jaren needs to bear witness as the Crown Prince, and Tor needs to be there for, well-" She coughed, then rallied to finish, "-for the obvious reasons."

Caldon wondered if the Royal Council wanted Tor in attendance purely because he was Zuleeka's sister, or if it was because he was a Corentine. Perhaps it was because he was now the leader of the rebels, even if his first act after Zuleeka's defeat was to announce that they would be disbanding. Given what Cal knew of the pretentious council members, it was likely all three reasons. But at least Ashlyn would have Tor's back. As would Jaren.

For the first time since arriving at Silverthorn, Caldon was pleased to have an excuse that meant he could skip what would surely be one of the council's notoriously longwinded meetings.

"Go," Caldon said to Jaren and Torell. "I promise I won't leave her side."

Even if Maddis came for him, he would find a way to stay. He'd fight the Matron Healer off with a pillow if he had to - whatever it took to make sure Kiva wasn't alone for so much as a second.

Tor sighed loudly, and Jaren looked as if he was going to argue, but Ashlyn spoke before he could.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can come back to her." Ash reached for Jaren's arm and gently pulled him to his feet. "Cal's got this. You know he does."

Jaren looked more torn than ever, but he pressed his lips together with resignation, before turning to Caldon and saying, "If she wakes up, tell her-tell her-"

A million flippant responses flicked across Caldon's mind, each one wittier than the last, but seeing the lost expression in his cousin's blue-gold eyes made him bite his tongue and only say, "I won't need to tell her - you'll tell her yourself when you get back here. So hurry your ass up so you can return just as quickly."

Taking the hint, Jaren sent Cal a grateful look, before bending down to kiss Kiva's forehead. He then led the way out of the room, with Tor and Ash following close behind, both saying they would be back as soon as they could.

Alone now with Kiva, Caldon distracted himself by looking through the overwhelming number of medicine vials on her bedside table, relieved to see none of them had addictive properties. Cresta had mentioned that she'd told the healers about Kiva's history with angel-dust, so at least she wouldn't have to suffer withdrawal symptoms when she awoke just pain from her wound, and an excessive amount of post-injury fatigue.

So basically, she would feel the same as Caldon had for the last six days.

We're in this together, Sunshine. You and me.

Oh, the irony, Caldon thought, a humorless smile quirking his lips.

As the time continued to pass, Cal soon grew bored. Following Jaren's example, he spoke quietly to Kiva, but it was difficult to maintain a one-sided conversation, especially when most of what Caldon whispered was, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," and, "Please wake up," before finally resorting to, "If you think this means you can get out of morning training, Sweet Cheeks, you'd be wrong."

To his stunned surprise, it was after he uttered the last that her eyelids twitched.

Caldon sucked in a breath and leaned closer, fearing he'd imagined it. But then it happened again, and this time, her eyes slowly opened, blinking once, twice, three times, before she looked blurrily around, recognition coming to her gradually as she realized where she was.

Cal was torn between howling with relief and descending into - very manly - tears. Instead, he sat as still as a statue as she peered around the room, until finally her hazy emerald gaze found him.

Unable to keep silent any longer, he summoned all the lightness he felt at her awakening, along with all his guilt over not having been there when she'd needed him most, and drawled, "I leave you alone for a few hours, and look what happens."

Kiva stared at him.

Stared and stared and stared.

And then her face crumpled and she burst out crying.

Caldon swore and leapt up from his seat to slide onto the bed beside her, ignoring the pain that lanced through him with the move. He gathered her into his arms, being careful not to jostle her wound as he held her close and let her cry, reveling in the feeling of her simply being alive.

She would be all right now, Caldon knew. She had survived - they all had.

There was only one thing left for them to do:

Chase their storybook endings.

... And live happily ever after.