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She couldn’t see.

She couldn’t breathe.

She had to get out of there.

She had to get out of there.

But then her eyes began to adjust, a sliver of light trickling through a small gap between the cabinet doors offering Kiva a lifeline. She released a shaky breath and pressed her face against the wood, one eye able to peek out into the room beyond —

Just in time to watch the door open with the arrival of the Royal Council, Jaren at their head. Queen Ariana also accompanied them, having clearly abandoned her afternoon of paperwork.

Kiva reminded herself that she was no longer locked away in the Abyss, but shewouldbe if they caught her. She had to stay calm, had to stay silent.

And she had to pay attention. Because inadvertently or not, she’d just found herself in the best position to spy on the Royal Council.

“— want you to acknowledge that it was reckless and dangerous,” a middle-aged man with graying hair was saying, his beady eyes set in a frown. “Foolish, even. So much could have gone wrong. So muchdidgo wrong.”

“Horeth, if you intend to spend the afternoon scolding me like a child, let me know now,” Jaren said with clear impatience. “I have better things to do.”

Horeth — Kiva had heard that name earlier. He was the Grand Master of the Royal Council. And right now he was scowling at Jaren, as were the three other people who had trailed into the room behind him, two women and another man. All four of the council members wore red robes with glimmering circlets at their brows, Horeth’s being gold, the other three silver.

Jaren and Ariana took their seats at the table, with the Grand Master and his three companions following their lead. Kiva had to crane her neck and squint through the gap in the cabinet to keep her eye on them all, but she was still able to see everyone reasonably well.

“I think what my son means to say is that he’s aware his actions were ...rash,” Ariana said in a mollifying voice. “But when he heard news of Tilda Corentine’s impending transfer to Zalindov, he saw an opportunity too great to resist.”

Kiva’s fingers twitched at the mention of her mother.

“And he nearly died because of it,” a dark-skinned woman pointed out, her black hair pulled into a strict bun at the nape of her neck.

“Yisari’s right,” Horeth said with an imperious nod, his gaze spearing Jaren. “We’ve all read Naari Arell’s reports, so we know Eidran Ridley volunteered to insinuate himself inside the prison for Tilda’s arrival. We also know his ill-timed accident meant the plan should have been abandoned. What wedon’tknow is why it wasn’t — and why you,the heir to our kingdom,decided to risk your life by going into a hostile environment completely unprepared. For everworld’s sake, look at your hand! You’ll have that scar forever, and gods know how many others from your time in there.”

Horeth had clearly never seen Jaren without his shirt on, or he’d know that a few new scars were the least of the prince’s concerns. Even so, Kiva had to repress the shame she felt, since she was the one who had carved the Z into Jaren’s hand. She wondered if Naari’s reports had includedthatparticular detail.

All eyes turned to the prince, but he only leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Eidran’s doing better, thanks for asking,” he said pointedly. “His leg was damaged worse than we thought, so it’s taking some time to heal, but he’s staying with his family in Albree and they’re helping with his rehabilitation. I’ll be sure to pass along your regards.”

Silence fell after Jaren’s dry statement, and Kiva’s lips curled up at the edges. This was a side of him she’d never seen before — princely, almost insolent.

“Perhaps we should move on,” murmured the silver-circlet-wearing man, his head bald and skin milky white. “As we can all see, Prince Deverick is safely returned to us. Indeed, we were unaware he was even in Zalindov until after his escape. There’s no point in dwelling on what has passed.”

“Wise words, Feldor, as always,” said the second councilwoman. She too was pale, though her visible skin was dusted with freckles and lined with age, her auburn hair streaked liberally with silver.

“Fine,” Grand Master Horeth said, his features pinched with displeasure. “If we’re not going to address His Highness’s careless actions, then let’s discuss his thoughtless decision in bringing not one, buttwoescaped criminals back to Vallenia with him — and right to the palace, no less.”

Apprehension filled Kiva’s body, but not because of Horeth’s new line of discussion. It was the stormy look on Jaren’s face that made her cramped muscles unconsciously tense.

“Tread carefully with what you say next, Grand Master,” Jaren warned, his voice cold. He leaned forward, his eyes like shards of ice. “One of thosecriminalsyou’re talking about is a young boy whose only crime was to love his mother too much —”

“His mother was a thief —”

“— and the othercriminal,as you call her,” Jaren continued over Horeth, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, “was barely seven years old when she arrived at Zalindov. I don’t care what you say — there’s something fundamentally wrong with our laws whenchildrencan be sent to adeath prison.”

“But she —”

“Let’s also remember that Kiva earned her freedom by triumphing over the Trial by Ordeal. If not for the riot, she would have been set free.”

“We all know you helped her survive the Ord —”

“And ignoring all of that,” Jaren said, refusing to let the Grand Master get a word in edgewise, “she spent every waking moment at Zalindov helping the other prisoners, often at great personal sacrifice. In my mind, that makes her a hero. Try to remember that the next time you think I’ll sit back and smile as you call her acriminal.”