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The two guards left the room shortly afterward, with the rest of the Vallentis family following in their wake. Jaren lingered the longest, but he too left when Tipp turned to Kiva and clung tightly enough to bruise, the prince recognizing that the young boy needed to be alone with the person who made him feel safest.

Kiva could have kissed Jaren for his understanding, but instead she just sent him a small smile, which deepened in gratitude when he promised to update them as soon as there was any news.

Aware that her plans for the rest of the afternoon had been foiled, Kiva forced her own needs aside and spent the next few hours trying to comfort Tipp, who was inconsolable with guilt.

That guilt only grew when Jaren returned later that night with grim news.

They’d found Perita Brown.

But she was dead.

He didn’t say how, but he did share that the Book of the Law hadn’t been with her — and they now had no leads. But the Royal Guard would continue their search, Jaren said. They wouldn’t give up until the Book was safely returned.

Kiva had her doubts — even without anyone knowing it was part of the Ternary, the ancient text had to be worth a fortune. It was surely long gone by now.

Before leaving for the second time, Jaren crouched down in front of Tipp, looked straight into his tear-swollen eyes, and said, “We don’t blame you, kiddo. It was an honest mistake.”

Tipp didn’t seem to hear Jaren, more distraught than ever by what he thought was his role in Perita’s death, unwitting or not.

The young boy started crying all over again, and Jaren shot an alarmed look at Kiva, but she just shook her head, knowing it wasn’t his fault.

“Can you help get him to my room?” she asked quietly.

Together, they coaxed Tipp into releasing his death grip on Kiva long enough to be relocated to her bed, where he curled up against her once more, sniffling into her already drenched sweater.

“Can I do anything? Get you anything?” Jaren asked. “Help in any way?”

He was clearly at a loss as to how he might offer comfort, and Kiva could relate. She’d only seen Tipp like this once before, the day his mother had died. That night, she’d held him for hours, and she intended to do the same tonight until he was ready to face the world again.

“We’re all right, thanks,” Kiva replied. Running her fingers through Tipp’s silky red hair, she added, “He just needs a little time.”

Jaren nodded, but he still seemed reluctant to leave.

“Go,” Kiva encouraged. “I’ll take care of him.”

“I know you will,” Jaren said quietly. And with those confident words, he kissed her brow, gave a shoulder squeeze to Tipp, and left the room.

Kiva barely slept a wink that night, and not just because Tipp took a long time to finally cry himself to sleep. So many worries were crowding her mind, from the royal theft to everything her grandmother had revealed, and then of course her anxiety over not having had the chance to replicate Delora’s potion. Come morning, her magic would be back, and gods knew what might happen then.

But it wasn’t only fears that kept her awake.

It was also Tipp’s nightmares.

More than once, he woke up with a startled cry, clutching at his stomach and gasping about a golden light, before falling straight back to sleep again.

Every time it happened, Kiva’s heart stopped, certain he must have remembered what she’d done. But when morning finally arrived and she carefully broached the topic, he only looked at her in puzzlement, having no recollection of any dreams, to her great relief.

No longer crying and clinging to her, Tipp was still subdued as Kiva readied herself for her training with Caldon, and when it was time to leave, he shyly asked if he could come watch.

And so, while Kiva sweated and ached her way through her workout, Tipp sat at the side of the training yard, as if he couldn’t bear to be separated from her. Part of it, she thought, was due to a particularly heart-wrenching moment during the night, when he’d asked if he would be sent back to Zalindov. Feeling his fear as if it were her own, Kiva had promised that wouldn’t happen, but she knew for herself how that dread lingered, and if Tipp felt safer when he was near her, then she would let him stay as close as he needed.

That became more of a problem when they returned to their suite after her training ended. Normally Tipp would be heading to tutoring with Oriel, but he showed no signs of leaving, and Kiva was more aware than ever of the empty vial sitting on her dresser.

But then she realized there was no reason why Tipp couldn’t go with her to Silverthorn. She didn’t have to tell him what the potion did, and he was used to her concocting all kinds of remedies from their years together in Zalindov’s infirmary. He might even be able to help.

Decision made, she left him alone long enough to wash and change, after which they both ate a quick breakfast before she informed him that she needed to leave the palace. Panic flooded his face, vanishing only when she said he could come, at which point some of the brightness she was used to flitted back in, his excitement at visiting Silverthorn clear, even muted as it was.

Together they left the palace, the hustle and bustle of the previous day magnified now that the masquerade was mere hours away. Kiva was grateful to be escaping the madness, and she sensed that Tipp was, too, with his spirits lifting further as they walked along the River Road, the empty vial tucked safely in Kiva’s pocket. Her magic was back — she could feel it again, humming just beneath her skin — but so far it hadn’t caused any problems that morning. And shecertainlydidn’t have any nefarious desires to use her power to hurt anyone. Whatever had happened to Torvin, whatever dark footsteps Tilda had followed in, Kiva maintained that she wouldn’t succumb to the same temptation. Mostly because, to her, it wasn’t a temptation at all.