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Kiva snickered in memory.

“I’m leaving for Fellarion in the morning,” he continued. “The city leaders want to discuss infrastructure and farming and a number of other things that need overseeing. I’ll be gone for at least four days, possibly more.”

“Oh,” Kiva said, secretly delighted. If Jaren was gone, he wouldn’t notice if she went missing for a few hours — and after another near miss with her magic tonight, she was more desperate than ever to find her grandmother. “Well, uh, thanks for telling me.”

“I was going to invite you along,” he said. “But I’d rather not be responsible for you dying of boredom.”

“I appreciate that,” Kiva said, shuddering inwardly as she recalled the second half of the Royal Council meeting.

“I also heard you’ve been offered a position at Silverthorn,” Jaren added, “and I didn’t want to risk pulling you away from your dream.” He leaned closer, his expression filling with pride. “Congratulations, Kiva.”

Right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams.

Her chest tightened at the remembered words. “I haven’t accepted yet.”

“I heard that, too.” Jaren cocked his head to the side. “I’m just not sure why.”

“I —” Kiva swallowed. “I just want to make sure I’m ready first.”

“Healer Maddis says you are.”

That wasn’t what Kiva had meant by ready. “She only says that because of my father.”

“She knew him?” he asked, surprised. “You told me he was a healer — did he study at Silverthorn?”

“Sort of,” Kiva hedged. “Maddis said he was one of her best students.” She knew better than to give Jaren more of her family history — he already knew too much for comfort. And yet ... he’d still defended Faran to the Royal Council. Kiva, too, by association.

“Like father, like daughter,” Jaren said, looking at her warmly and sliding a comforting arm behind her shoulders.

Kiva couldn’t speak for a long moment, his words resonating deeply.

It was true — shewaslike her father. She had his healer’s heart, his compassion for people, and, long ago, she’d also had his eternal optimism.

But then Zalindov had happened.

And Faran had been taken from her.

In all the time since then, she’d become so obsessed with vengeance that she hadn’t stopped to think about whathewould have wanted. For her. For their family.

Or perhaps she hadn’t considered it because she already knew the answer.

Faran would have wanted them to forgive, and to move on. He would have wanted them to chase their dreams, to be happy, tolive.

He wouldn’t have wanted them bent on revenge.

He would have just wanted them safe.

And deep down, Kiva knew he would be turning in his grave if he knew what his children were up to.

“Speaking of fathers,” Kiva said, croaking slightly and needing to not think about her own. She settled deeper into the lounge, unintentionally leaning into Jaren. “King Stellan, is he — um —”

“Is he what?”

In a whisper, Kiva asked, “Is he sick?”

Jaren froze beside her. But then his arm curled tighter, either to comfort himself or to comfort her as he breathed out a quiet, “Yeah.”

“Is it terminal?” Kiva kept whispering.