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“The feeling is mutual,” Kiva said, stroking the mare’s dappled neck. “I’ll have her back to you in no time.”

He didn’t seem at all concerned by her plans, turning the silver coin in his fingers and pocketing it with great delight as she mounted and left the academy.

That, Kiva thought as she rode away, had been much too easy. But as she turned north and began her journey to Blackwater Bog, a smile spread across her face, because it was about damned time that something finally went her way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The ride to Murkwood Cottage was uneventful, the weather perfect, the road clear, her horse calm, and by the time Kiva dismounted at her grandmother’s doorstep, any lingering unease had completely faded away.

It returned in an instant when Delora hobbled out onto the porch, her cane in hand, her weathered face set into a frown.

“You came back.”

“You told me to,” Kiva said slowly, gauging her grandmother’s mood. “It’s been three days. Your potion has been working perfectly, thank you. I can’t feel my magic at all.”

“Hmmph,”Delora huffed. “I suppose this is where you try to convince me that you came back for more of it and not for the dagger that made it?”

Kiva eyed the old woman warily. She’d thought they’d made progress the other day, but now she felt like they were back to square one. “Ididcome back for more of it.” She hesitated, recalling her promise to Zuleeka, and admitted, “Though, if you’re willing, I’d like to talk to you about the dagger while I’m here.”

Delora raised her cane and pointed it at Kiva, repeating her actions from their first meeting. “I knew it! You’re just like the rest of your rotten family! I bet the she-devil sent you here to do her dirty work, didn’t she?Didn’t she?”

Kiva crossed her arms, looping her horse’s reins through the crook of her elbow. In her coldest voice, she said, “If you’re talking about my mother, then no. She didn’t send me here. Because she’s dead.”

Without missing a beat, Delora said, “Good riddance!”

Kiva rocked backwards. “That’s your daughter you’re talking about. How can you say that?”

“Your mama was a poisonous snake, and this world is better off without her,” Delora answered heartlessly, without a single fleck of grief in her emerald gaze. “But I wasn’t talking about her — I meant your sister. She’s been pestering me for years, turning up every few months, trying to get her claws on that blade. Says she only wants to see it, that’s all. Bah! What lies. She’s as hateful as your mama was. As dangerous, too. I can smell it all over her — don’t act like you can’t.”

It was true that Zuleeka was more resentful than she’d ever been as a child, and certainly demanding, but she had her reasons, Kiva knew. What shedidn’tknow was why her sister had lied to her, or at the very least implied that she hadn’t seen Delora in years.

Before Kiva could consider a justifiable explanation, her grandmother continued, “I won’t give you the dagger, not now, not ever. And I won’t give you any more potion either, so you can go on and get out of here.”

Kiva paled and took a step forward, nearly slipping on the wet, swampy path. “Please, I don’t care about the dagger. Truly — that’s between you and Zuleeka. But I need that potion. It’s stopping me from —”

“All it’s doing is delaying the inevitable,” Delora cut in. “I told you it wasn’t a permanent solution. You keep using it, and there’s no telling what’ll happen when you finally let your magic loose. My guess is, you’ll become just like your mama, everything good and pure in you turning dark, your power leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake.”

The croaking of frogs and distant birdsong met Kiva’s ears, but it was drowned out by the ringing that started, growing louder as she whispered, “What are you talking about? My mother’s magic —mymagic — it’s healing magic. Ithelpspeople. There’s nothing dark about it.”

Delora scoffed. “Oh, please. Your mama used her magic to kill people. Just like Torvin Corentine did all those centuries ago.”

The ringing stopped.

The croaking stopped.

The birdsong stopped.

For one moment, Kiva heard nothing, every noise, everythought,eddying from her mind as she stumbled backwards, kept from falling only by bumping into the solid weight of her horse. “What?” she mouthed, unable to infuse any sound into the word.

Delora stared at Kiva through narrowed eyes. “She didn’t tell you, did she? That sister of yours?”

Kiva could barely breathe, let alone form a response.

“Let me guess — she said your mama died of a rotting illness? Something there was no cure for?” Delora snorted. “I’ll bet she did. But I’ll also bet she didn’t share that it was Tilda’s own magic that rotted her from the inside out. The moment she started using it for evil, it turned on her, spreading like an infection, straight to her very soul. There’s a price for that kind of power. To master death, one must be willing to die.”

Mother was sick. A rotting illness, something we couldn’t find a cure for ... The infection spread slowly, over years, something none of us realized until it was too late.

At the memory of Zuleeka’s words, Kiva swallowed. “I don’t understand. Our magic — Corentine magic — it’sgood.Ithealspeople.”