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You’re the one she left to rot in that prison, aren’t you? The one she said was better off there?

Delora had spoken true yesterday, repeating what she’d heard. But how —how— could Tilda have imagined that Kiva was safer in a place like Zalindov?Whyhad she thought it best that her daughter be locked away, her magic hidden, when she herself had begun practicing again out in the world? Was she so afraid of discovery, of all her plans for vengeance being ruined, that she’d allowed her daughter to suffer needlessly for ten years?

Kiva couldn’t fathom the possibility. But she did know that she was hurting.So damned much.And she needed to be alone to work through that.

“I want you to leave,” she whispered, not looking at either of her siblings. “I need some time. On my own.”

Zuleeka reached for her, but Kiva shifted out of the way.

“Please, you have to understand,” Zuleeka implored. “I told you that wars aren’t won without sacrifice —”

Kiva flinched so violently that her head snapped back, realizing that in this instance,shewas the sacrifice.

“— and as hard as it was for her, Mother had to weigh the risks, deciding that we were all safer if you remained in there until —”

“Stop talking,” Torell finally snapped. “Kiva doesn’t want to see you right now.Idon’t want to see you right now. Just — Just go check if our horses are nearly ready.”

Zuleeka’s eyes held Kiva’s, the honey-gold begging for her to understand.

I’ll try harder. I promise I will.

Kiva looked away.

Sighing quietly, Zuleeka murmured, “I’ll see you at Mirryn’s birthday,” before striding off into the stable complex.

Kiva waited until she was out of sight, then turned to her brother. “Can you stop her from coming to the party? It’s not safe. Not smart. And I don’t — I don’t want her here.”

No matter how much she wanted her sister back, right now Kiva didn’t want to be anywhere near her.

Torell blew out a loud breath. “I’ll do what I can. But you know what she’s like.”

He winced suddenly, realizing what he’d said — how Kivadidn’tknow what Zuleeka was like because she was nothing at all like the child she’d once been.

“I’m so sorry, Mouse,” he repeated his earlier words, just as quietly. “Ten years ... I don’t even know what to say.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she told him hoarsely. “But I — I don’t blame you. You know that, right?”

“You should,” he said, with bitter self-loathing. “I do.”

Kiva gripped his hand tighter. “Don’t, Tor. If I have to worry about how you’re feeling on top of everything else ... it’s too much.”

He blew out another loud breath and drew her into his arms. “I can’t promise not to be upset — I love you too much not to hate what you went through, especially now that I know you could have been freed years ago.”

“Just don’t hate yourself for what you had no control over,” Kiva said. “Promise me that much.”

A long moment passed before he finally said, “I’ll try.”

Knowing it was as good as she was going to get, Kiva pulled back and wiped under her eyes, giving him a gentle push in the direction of where Zuleeka had disappeared inside the stables. “Go,” she said. “And feel free to give her the silent treatment on the ride back.”

“I plan on giving her the silent treatment for much longer than that,” Tor muttered angrily, before leaning in to kiss Kiva’s forehead and striding away, leaving her alone but for the company of her tormented thoughts ... and her shattered heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kiva avoided everyone for the rest of the day, sneaking from the stables to her room and burrowing into her bed. She didn’t care that she’d wasted the afternoon, needing to wallow in all that she’d learned, needing togrieve.

She had multiple visitors as the hours passed, their quiet knocks and even quieter voices identifying them as Jaren, Tipp, Caldon, Naari, and even Mirryn, each coming at different times to see if she’d allow them entry. But none invaded her privacy when she failed to answer, giving her the space she so desperately wanted.

Night fell outside her windows, and despite her growling stomach, she didn’t move from her bed to seek out dinner, remaining curled around herself until she finally felt like she could breathe again. It eventually happened, mostly thanks to Zuleeka’s reminder that they couldn’t change the past. For whatever inexcusable reason, her mother had left her in Zalindov. It was done; there was no changing it. Now Kiva needed to let it go and move forward.