Chapter Thirty-One #3
“Broke his leg,” Kiva said, suddenly recalling Naari’s words in the Abyss. “So you came in his place.”
Jaren squinted at her. “You already know?”
“That’s all. Nothing else.”
Jaren considered her words, then explained, “My sister and I were heading to our family’s winter palace in the Tanestra Mountains when news arrived about Tilda’s capture.
I sent a missive to my parents, but as frustrated as they were, all they could do was try to negotiate with Mirraven for Tilda to be brought to Zalindov.
I knew those negotiations would take weeks—enough time for Naari, Eidran, and me to form a plan; enough time for Naari to go on ahead and insinuate herself as a prison guard, waiting for Eidran, who would arrive later and assimilate with the other inmates, then find a way to interrogate the Rebel Queen. ”
“But then Eidran was injured,” Kiva said.
Jaren nodded, a sheen of sweat beginning to dust his forehead, his eyes glazed with pain.
“The timing was terrible—it happened the day he was meant to be transferred here. I made a snap decision and took his place when the wagon from Vallenia passed by the winter palace, figuring I’d get into the prison, get answers, and then Naari would sneak me out, as had been the plan with Eidran. ”
He paused, then admitted, “We didn’t know Tilda was sick, though.
Or that she’d been sentenced to the Trial by Ordeal.
That wasn’t something my parents had shared before I arrived.
I had to change tactics after those discoveries, which meant staying longer than intended.
I moved my focus to the other rebels in here, trying to get them to trust me enough to offer any scraps of information.
But I made a crucial error in judgment.”
“Just one?” Kiva said.
Jaren ignored her tone and said, “I didn’t realize Cresta was their leader. And after I defended you to her that night ...” He shook his head. “Let’s just say I had trouble making friends with them from that point onward, no matter how hard I tried.”
Kiva thought back to when he’d arrived in the infirmary after scrapping with the rebels, recalling the strained look on his face when she’d told him who Cresta was.
She’d thought he’d been worried about making enemies.
She’d had no idea that he’d wanted them to be his friends —if only so he could use them, then toss them away.
“Sounds like you got more than you bargained for, coming here,” Kiva stated, unable to summon any compassion.
Jaren sighed, then winced as the movement jolted his torso. “Admittedly, my plan fell apart alarmingly fast, but my strategy was sound.”
In a flat voice, Kiva said, “That strategy being that you’d make everyone think you were a prisoner, not a prince.”
Jaren grimaced. It was the first time she’d used his title, and the word hung in the air between them.
“I thought staying undercover would help the rebels think I was one of them,” Jaren confessed, sliding a little further down the wall, as if even leaning against it was requiring too much effort.
“After realizing Tilda wasn’t going to be able to share anything, I thought I could become a part of a community here, that her followers might trust me and reveal .
.. I don’t know ... something that could help. ”
“Help what? ” Kiva demanded, her anger flaring again. “Help you keep your kingdom? Your crown?”
“Screw my crown,” Jaren said, his declaration heated enough to surprise her.
“I don’t care about that, I care about them .
” He waved an arm but then winced again and quickly returned it to his stomach.
“My people— they’re who I care about. They’re the ones who are suffering and dying because of this uprising.
Husbands, wives, children. Innocents . It’s turning into a civil war.
” His eyes were locked on hers, glowing in the light of the fire.
“And despite how it might sound to you, I care about what’s happening to the rebels, too.
Because whether they like it or not, they’re my people as well.
As long as they call Evalon home, they come under my family’s protection.
” The flames in his eyes dulled as sadness filled his voice.
“But I can’t protect them from themselves. ”
Kiva’s head was spinning from all that Jaren had just revealed, from the heart he’d just shared. She wanted to keep hating him for lying to her—and for who he was . But this ...
You have a right to be angry, but don’t let that stop you from forgiving him. He did what he did for the right reasons .
Naari’s rebuke floated across Kiva’s mind as she stared at Jaren, considering her next move. He gave her that time, watching her in silence, waiting to see what she would say.
He was the reason she’d lost her family and was in Zalindov to begin with. Maybe not directly, but the throne he represented.
You’re to be imprisoned for suspected treason against the crown.
Only ... Jaren didn’t know . She’d told him about her brother’s death and that she’d been imprisoned with her father, but she’d never said what Faran Meridan had been arrested for, how he’d been spotted near a rebel in the marketplace.
She hadn’t even mentioned that it was a Royal Guard who had killed Kerrin, which would have been a dead giveaway.
Jaren had no idea his family was responsible for all that she’d suffered through in the last decade.
“I’m not sure what else I can say, Kiva,” Jaren finally said, his voice weaker than before, his strength swiftly fading.
“I understand that you’re mad at me, but even you have to see that I was trying to save lives.
I couldn’t tell you until I trusted you.
I couldn’t risk anyone finding out who I was, because that would have jeopardized everything.
” He shook his head woefully. “Not that it matters now. I’ve learned nothing of worth since coming here. I failed, spectacularly.”
“If you weren’t getting information,” Kiva croaked out, “and you were never a real prisoner, then why didn’t you just leave? ”
His blue-gold gaze locked on hers. “Because I found a reason to stay.”
Kiva’s legs nearly gave out, his meaning impossible to miss.
“You’re a fool,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
She expected his eyes to shutter and hurt to flash across his face. Instead, his lips stretched into a wry, self-deprecating smile.
“My sister said the same thing when she accosted me after the first Ordeal. Only she used much stronger words.”
Kiva recalled him sharing that only Naari and the injured Eidran had known the full version of his noble—but stupid —plan. “You didn’t even tell your family?”
“Mirryn and my cousin Caldon both knew a little.” He paused, before explaining further, “My brother, Oriel, was meant to be meeting Mirry and me at the winter palace, but he decided to stay in Vallenia at the last minute. Cal came instead, arriving a few days before Eidran broke his leg, so both he and Mirry were there when I changed the plan. I told them as much as I dared, then swore them to secrecy.” Jaren’s gaze turned inward as he went on, “When I learned that my family was to witness the first Trial, I had Naari send a message to Cal, begging him to come and act as if he was me. We’ve done it before—we’re the same height and build, and the masks hide our faces.
Plus, he owed me a favor.” A quick, quiet snort.
“Multiple favors. People call me reckless, but Caldon is a menace.”
A menace, indeed. Kiva now realized it was Jaren’s cousin who had been on the gallows that day, and then had later come into the infirmary and flirted with her. She’d thought he was the one who had saved her. But it had never been him, never been Caldon.
“You saved me,” Kiva stated numbly, having already figured out the truth deep in the bowels of the Abyss but wanting to hear his confirmation, his admission. “In the Ordeals. All of them. Right from the first one, the Trial by Air.”
Jaren’s cheeks darkened slightly, barely discernible in the flamelight but enough to give him away.
“I couldn’t stand to watch you die,” he said quietly.
“I was just lucky that Mirry and Cal realized what I’d done and covered for me.
” His tone filled with remorse as he continued, “I was so angry with myself afterward. Not for catching you,” he added quickly, “but for taking so long to decide to do it, which left you hitting the ground so hard ...” He trailed off, his eyes apologetic.
The prince should have caught you sooner, Jaren had said after the first Ordeal, his face tight with anger as he’d talked about himself, berated himself. But Kiva barely remembered the pain she’d felt, so his regret—for that —was unnecessary.
“And the amulet? That was you, too?” she said, though she already knew the answer. “That was why you weren’t concerned about me before the fire Ordeal? Because you knew the magic, your magic, would protect me?”
Jaren looked even more uncomfortable, but he nodded.
“And then the water Ordeal ... Why, Jaren? Why save me?”
“Because you’re good, Kiva,” he said, as if that was all that mattered.
“I’ve watched you with the other prisoners—even people like Cresta, who go out of their way to make your life miserable—and you treat all of them the same.
Hell, you even treat the Rebel Queen like the rest of them.
Better, even. And I know you’ve already told me why, just as I know I’ll never fully understand.
But I don’t have to, because I can see your heart.
You didn’t deserve to die, and it was within my power to keep you alive. So I did.”
The enormity of what he was sharing wasn’t lost on her. He’d interfered with the Trial by Ordeal, not once, not twice, but three times. He’d saved her life, over and over again.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” she admitted, her voice hoarse.