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There was no hope left for the two of them, Kiva knew that now. He’d made it clear. But their mission hadn’t changed, and she was determined to do her part in aiding its success, even if that meant paying whatever price the Mystican required.

“Kiva,” Caldon said as she stepped forward. “Are you sure —”

“I’m sure. I’ll be back soon.”

She had no idea if that was true, but she sent a confident smile to Tipp, one that wobbled only slightly as she moved it to Cresta and Naari and Caldon, taking in their anxious faces, before heading toward where Zofia waited at the doorway into the next room.

Kiva didn’t look at Jaren. Her heart couldn’t take it.

Zofia chuckled as she neared and said to her friends, “You need not fear for Kiva Corentine. She’ll be out momentarily.”

Another shiver traveled down Kiva’s spine, this one stronger, since she doubted Cresta or Naari would have shared her name, either. But she kept her chin high and pushed aside her panic as the Mystican ushered her through the door and closed it behind them.

The room was small, but more comfortable than the previous space, with a pair of large emerald cushions on the ground and a low-lying table between them.

“Please sit,” Zofia invited, gesturing to a cushion as she claimed the one opposite and rested her inked hands casually on the table.

Kiva sank onto the downy seat, relieved that the incense wasn’t as strong in here, though there were still numerous candles around the space, making it look almost dreamy.

Zofia watched Kiva in silence, before waving her hand toward a shelf along the far wall. Two items immediately sailed toward them, causing Kiva to inhale sharply at the foreign magic, but she reminded herself that Jaren had once been able to do something similar using his wind element. This was a different kind of power, but just because it was unfamiliar, that didn’t mean there was any reason to fear it.

The Mystican made a humming sound of agreement, as if she could read Kiva’s thoughts and approved of them. Maybe shecould,Kiva realized, squirming uncomfortably. But before she could grow too distressed, Zofia placed one of the items at the center of the table.

It was Sarana’s second ring, the band made of gold like the first, but with a large white topaz in place of the ruby.

The air ring.

Kiva wanted to snatch it up and run, but given the magic she’d just seen — and the amused warning in Zofia’s eyes — she knew better than to try. Instead, she said, “Name your price.”

It was a dangerous request, but the Mystican was no fool — it was obvious how desperate Kiva and her friends were.

“You have a choice,” Zofia said, leaning forward. “There are two things you most fear. In order to reclaim the ring, you must face one of them.”

Kiva dug her nails into her thighs, right over her faded scars. “I have a lot of fears. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Zofia’s mouth quirked up again, her silver eyes flaring once more. That was the only warning Kiva had before images assailed her vision, memories playing out across her mind —hermemories. The day she met Jaren, with him covered in blood and near death. The night before the second Ordeal, when she’d slept in his arms for the first time. Their near-kiss in the infirmary’s garden. How he’d jumped into the quarry and breathed life into her. Their fight in the tunnels, and the betraying revelation of who he was.

Memory after memory slammed into her as Zofia sifted through her mind and replayed all their tender moments in Vallenia, his loving touch, his kind words, the way he’d slowly but surely convinced her to choose him over her own family, without even realizing it. He’d earned her respect, but he’d won her love. And when Zofia finally touched on the night of the masquerade, when Jaren had kissed her with such longing, such passion, Kiva finally snapped,“Enough!”She knew what came next, the devastation that followed that night and in the months since then. She didn’t need to see it again. Didn’twantto see it again.

At her command, the images stopped, and she leaned back on her own cushion, panting as if she’d run a race, glaring at the Mystican.

“He is one of your fears,” Zofia said mildly. “If you choose to pay for the ring by facing him, all it will take is a kiss.”

Disbelief — and dread — strangled Kiva. “What?” she breathed.

“You heard me,” Zofia said. “The ring for a kiss.”

Kiva shook her head, not even having to think about it. “I can’t.”

“You already have,” Zofia returned. “This would be no different.”

You made me fall in love with a lie.

Jaren’s words burned across Kiva’s mind, and she rasped out, “You’re wrong. I won’t force him to kiss me. I can’t do that to him.” He already hated her enough without her adding physical coercion to the list of grievances. “You said this was my payment, not his. What’s my second choice?”

A strange look came over Zofia then, almost like regret. It was enough to make Kiva brace, expecting to have her memories violated again, but the Mystican didn’t delve into her mind this time. Instead, she placed the second item she’d retrieved on the table, right beside the ring.

Kiva examined the small velvet box, relieved to know that, whatever it was, it couldn’t be worse than having to kiss Jaren without his consent.