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“Thank you for saying that,” she said, somewhat hoarsely. “It means a lot.”

Jaren relaxed again. “We’ll figure something else out,” he told her, kissing her forehead. There wasn’t a trace of anger or frustration or disappointment in him, just complete understanding.

But Kiva shook her head, because she wasn’t finished. “That means a lot,” she repeated, “but Zuleeka needs to be stopped. And if my mother thought I was the only one who could heal the darkness out of her, then I have to try.” She thought of all the people she loved, knowing they’d be in danger as long as Zuleeka remained a threat, and added, “I’ll never be able to live with myself if I don’t.”

“But she’s your sister,” Jaren said again, softly.

“She was, once,” Kiva said, remembering the child she’d known over a decade ago. That girl was gone, replaced by a hard young woman who had no qualms hurting people. Even Kiva and Tor — her own family. “I don’t know who she is now, whether she’s been corrupted by dark magic or if her actions are more willful and deliberate than that. But either way, the power she has is too dangerous. I can’t ignore that — and I won’t.” Kiva fidgeted with a seam over Jaren’s rib cage as she added, “Though... no one has said what happens if Idomanage to heal her. I’m not — I don’t —”

“No one expects you to harm her,” Jaren said quickly, his arms tightening in comfort. “Once her dark magic is gone, your part will be done. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Kiva nodded her gratitude, not letting herself consider what Zuleeka’s future might look like. Everything she’d told Jaren was true, but it still pained her to think about the sister she’d once loved.

She might be our sister, but actions have consequences, and one day soon she’s going to learn that.

Kiva remembered Torell’s words from early in their journey, his unwavering sense of justice soothing something inside her. Zuleeka’s fate would soon be decided, and when it was, Kiva would not only accept it, she would be a part of it.

And for the first time, she finally felt ready.

She’d escaped Zalindov prison, not once, but twice. She’d overcome an angeldust addiction, pulled herself out of the deepest darkness, and found the will to continue living. She’d battled in a Jiirvan arena and killed a woman, the horror of the experience having scarred her — but it hadn’t broken her.

And Zuleeka wouldn’t break her either.

Kiva’s fears remained strong, especially knowing the power her sister wielded, but Kiva was powerful, too. And she would fight with everything she had, giveeverything she had,because her friends were counting on her.

And when the time came, she would not let them down.

Resolved, Kiva embraced her mental reckoning, feeling it solidify within her. Not wanting — or needing — to discuss Zuleeka anymore, she flattened her palm against Jaren’s hard stomach and said, “Speaking of sisters...”

He tensed beneath her.

Carefully, so carefully, Kiva went on, “Have you thought about what will happen when you see Mirryn? After what she did... I know that must hurt — I know thatdoeshurt.”

Jaren closed his eyes slowly and nodded. “I always knew there was an element of jealousy there, but I never imagined...”

When he looked at Kiva again, the emotion in his expression made her blink back tears.

“The worst part is, I understand why she did it,” he went on. “The way I feel about you... if she feels even afractionof that toward Serafine...” He trailed off, then said, quieter, “I just wish she had told us about Navok’s demands, and about her own bitterness, rather than betray us. We could have talked about it, come up with a solution together, but now...” He sighed. “What happens to her is out of my hands. Mother’s, too. Mirryn committed treason — if we manage to reclaim Evalon, then the Royal Council will decide her punishment, and we’ll have to abide by it.”

Hearing the heartache in his voice, Kiva hugged him tighter, knowing exactly how he felt. Both of their sisters had made choices, and assuming all went as planned, both would have to pay for those choices. But that didn’t mean it would be easy — for any of them.

“Gods, why are families so difficult?” Kiva mumbled.

Jaren gave a light chuckle — it was weak, but it helped break the weighty feeling that had descended upon them both. “That’s a question for the ages.”

Kiva copied his sigh and sought distraction by pulling the amulet free of her clothes, playing with the smooth edges and jagged gemstones. Eager to change the subject — for both their sakes — she looked at the ruby, topaz, and emerald quadrants, and said, “We have three of the rings now. That means only one left.”

Jaren murmured his agreement, reaching for the leather pouch he carried the rings in and handing it over without being asked. He then began to absentmindedly trace patterns on her arm, as if he couldn’t bear to not be touching her.

Even with the barrier of her clothes, the sensation was almost enoughto distract Kiva, but she made herself focus and share something that had been on her mind for a while. “Do you think it’s strange that Sarana sent the rings away without telling anyone in your family?”

Jaren’s shoulders shrugged beneath her. “It’s possible she did and it was forgotten over time.”

Kiva turned the pouch in her hand and then upended the contents into her palm. “Torvin’s dagger — the Eye of the Gods — was passed down through my family. My grandmother knew about its true power. My mother and Zuleeka, too. That knowledge wasn’t lost to time.” She frowned at the rings. “Ryuu and Thembi, Sibley, even Issa — their ancestors all made sure they knew what had been entrusted to them. I can’t help wondering why Sarana didn’t ensure the same for her own heirs.”

Jaren shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’d also like to know why none of our so-called allies ever mentioned anything, even in passing.” He paused. “I’m assuming it must have been part of the instructions they were given — that we could only reclaim the rings without prompting. But still...” He blew out a breath. “It would have been nice to know about the Handbeforewe actually had need of it.” His voice lowered as he added, “Just as it would have been nice to know that the dagger my family possessed wasn’t the real Eye.Thatwasn’t the most delightful of surprises.”

His tone was wry and held no trace of pain, but Kiva closed her hand around the rings, her attention diverted now as she softly asked, “Do you miss it?”