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You can get to him in a way no one else can, learn things about him, about his plans, about where he’s most vulnerable.

Zuleeka’s words from days ago returned to Kiva, her inner turmoil growing because she knew what she needed to do.

Moving slowly over to him, she sat on the far edge of the couch and prompted, “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

She’d left him plenty of room, but when Jaren sighed loudly and took a seat beside her, he was close enough for their arms to brush.

“Want to tell me about it?” Kiva offered, part of her wishing he would say no.

But he didn’t.

Because he was Jaren.

And he trusted her.

So he shared, “The Royal Council is concerned about a threat to the kingdom.”

“The rebels?” Kiva asked, playing dumb.

“No,” Jaren said. “Well, yes, but also no.”

Kiva waited for him to go on, even if, thanks to her eavesdropping, she already knew what he would say.

“The rebels have been quiet since Tilda’s death,” he said with a quick, apologetic look, knowing how much Tilda had meant to her as a patient. “They’re still causing some trouble, but nothing like before the winter — aside from their attempt to abduct you, which we can only assume was to remind us that they’re out there.”

He paused, then shared, “There are rumors Tilda left behind an heir old enough to take over, maybe more than one. We won’t know for sure until they restart their attacks.” He blew out a long, frustrated breath, before rolling the tension from his neck. “So until that happens, for the first time in years, they’re not my main concern.”

“But something is troubling you,” Kiva observed, still acting oblivious. “It has been since we arrived here, with you locked in meetings and looking more and more miserable after each one.”

“Miserable?” Jaren repeated, a hint of humor touching his eyes.

An easy comparison came to Kiva. “Like how Flox looks when he can’t follow you somewhere. That kind of miserable.”

Instead of adding to his mirth, Jaren’s hand quickly covered her mouth. “Shhh. Don’t say his name or you’ll wake the clingy devil.”

A tilt of his chin over to the window revealed the fluffy creature asleep on the ground, right where Jaren had been standing. As they watched, Flox’s eyes fluttered open, his head popping up fast once he realized he was alone, amewing sound of distress leaving his mouth. But then he turned and looked their way, his little silver face brightening as he bounded over to them.

Jaren groaned as Flox leapt straight onto his lap, curled up again, and was snoring softly a moment later.

Slicing his eyes to Kiva, Jaren said, “I blame you for this.”

Biting back a laugh, she combed her fingers through Flox’s soft fur. “It’s not my fault you’re so irresistible.”

At first, Kiva didn’t realize what she’d said, but then she noticed Jaren had gone still beside her, and she mentally replayed the words.

“Irresistible, huh?” he teased, his eyes dancing.

Kiva tried to rally. It was either that or jump out the window and drown herself in the Serin. “You know — to, um, a fox thing.”

If anything, Jaren’s amusement only grew. “A fox thing?”

“Ferret? Racoon? I have no idea what he is.”

Jaren chuckled. “He’s a silverbear.”

Squinting at the dozing creature, Kiva observed, “He looks nothing like a bear.”

“I didn’t come up with the name,” Jaren said, still grinning. “They’re rare, only found in the wilds of Odon’s northern mountains. Flox was a gift from their king and queen.”