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One quick glance up was all it took for Kiva to realize that she could still see Naari — but she couldn’t see Tipp.

Her claustrophobia instantly forgotten, Kiva yelled his name over the music, Jaren doing the same by her ear. They surged forward together, their urgency growing when they caught sight of the young boy on the ground, struggling to rise.

“He’ll be trampled!” Kiva cried, her heart lodging in her throat.

She’d barely finished the words when Jaren pushed past her and shoved his way through the suffocating masses, reaching Tipp at the same time as Naari, the two of them hauling the boy up to his feet.

Someone bumped into Kiva from behind, a hand latching on to her arm and stopping her from joining her friends. She tried to free herself, but the grip tightened, yanking her roughly backwards. The space around her was so tightly packed that she couldn’t turn to see who held her, her panic growing for a different reason now. She could just make out Jaren and Naari checking Tipp for injuries, feeling a momentary relief when it appeared he was unharmed, but then the hand gripping her gave another vicious tug, trapping her against a hard body. She struggled anew, but before she could so much as scream, a cloth was shoved over her face, the pungent smells of whitlock and tamadrin making her eyes water. Knowing that a deep enough inhalation would render her unconscious, she held her breath and fought harder, willing Jaren or Naari to turn her way.

A masculine oath came from her captor when he realized she wasn’t going down easily, and he removed the cloth, giving Kiva hope that he’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. But the next thing she knew, a spike of pain caused starbursts to explode in her vision, and she crumpled in his arms, out like a light.

CHAPTER THREE

“... didn’t leave me with any choice.”

“Are youmad?You see the bruise on her face? The general’s gonna bury you.”

There was a sound of shifting feet, followed by a mumbled, “The commander said to do whatever it took to get her here alone.”

A strained laugh. “Good luck using that as an excuse.”

Slowly, Kiva opened her eyes, biting back a groan at the steady pounding in her temple. She tried to move, only to find that she was tied to a wooden chair in the middle of a grimy room, ropes chafing against her wrists and ankles, a gag over her mouth. A single door in the corner opened to a brightly lit hallway, revealing shadows cast by two guards standing just out of sight — the owners of the foggy voices that had awoken her.

Carefully testing her bonds, Kiva only succeeded in digging the ropes deeper into her flesh, earning herself a few splinters from the chair in the process. She wouldn’t be escaping anytime soon. Not without help.

Kiva had been in Vallenia barely two days. It was nowhere near enough time to have made enemies, let alone ones powerful enough for orders to come directly from a “commander.” But ... if someone had seen her walking with Jaren ... He was heir to the richest kingdom in Wenderall, his enemies innumerable and hailing from every territory across the continent. Should a rival court wish to harm him, a sure way to do so would be to target those close to him.

Kiva swallowed, before reminding herself that Jaren and Naari would find her. They would get Tipp to the palace, then tear the city apart to make sure she was safe. She just had to buy them time. Buyherselftime.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, prompting Kiva to freeze, her gaze darting to the open door.

“You got her?” came a hard female voice.

One of the male guards offered a response too low for Kiva to hear, continuing for much longer than a simple yes or no.

“You’re right, he won’t be pleased,” the woman muttered, before sighing loudly. “He’s on his way. I’ll deal with him when he arrives.”

A thousand questions flooded Kiva’s mind, but every single one fled at the sight of the young woman who strode confidently through the open doorway.

“Uurreega,”Kiva gasped, the gag over her mouth making the word, thename,indistinguishable.

But there was no denying who it was.

No denying that Zuleeka Meridan — ZuleekaCorentine— had just stepped into the room.

With dark hair braided over her shoulder, eyes the color of liquid gold mixed with honey — their father’s eyes — and moon-pale skin, she looked so similar to when Kiva had last seen her ten years ago. But Zuleeka was no longer an innocent, wide-eyed eleven-year-old child. There was a harshness about her now, her angular features set, her hands resting on weapons belted to her leather-clad waist. Her stance was both casual and threatening, the latter becoming more evident when a slow, dangerous smile stretched across her hawkish face. “Hello, sister.”

Kiva could only stare, having no idea how to respond even if she’d been capable of doing so around the gag.

Stepping closer, Zuleeka tugged the cloth away from her mouth. “I hear you gave Borin some trouble.” She made a tsking noise. “He was only doing his job. We’ve had eyes on you since you arrived two days ago, but you’ve made it tricky for him to grab you.”

Kiva’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “He could have asked nicely.”

A bark of laughter came from Zuleeka, but Kiva found nothing about this to be funny.

She waited a beat, but when her sister made no further move, Kiva asked, “Are you going to untie me?”

“In a minute,” Zuleeka said, drumming her fingers against her thigh. “First I want to ask you some questions.” A calculated pause. “I hear you’ve made some powerful friends.”