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“It’s funny,” Zuleeka mused, “but Kiva probably saved more lives locked up in Zalindov than she would have if she’d stayed in our little village. I guess this is one of those times where we can say everything worked out for the best.”

Jaren’s grip tightened enough that Kiva feared what he was about to say, about todo,but before he had a chance to decide, Torell got in first.

“Zuleeka,” he snapped. He said no more, but that coupled with his stern frown was enough.

Their sister looked around the table, noting the strained expressions, and her mouth fell open. “Oh gods, that didn’t come out right, did it?” She shook her head quickly. “All I meant was that some very dangerous people now owe their lives to Kiva. That can only be to her benefit, right?”

When no one responded — though Jarendidlook like he wanted to throw his goblet at her face — Zuleeka grimaced apologetically, before plucking an olive off Mirryn’s plate. Kiva gaped at her in horror, but the princess seemed amused by her gall. Either that, or Mirryn was considering spearing Zuleeka’s hand with her fork.

“Careful, Zuleeka,” Caldon said dryly, noting the move as well. “My cousin isn’t known for her generosity. Do that again, and you may well lose a finger.”

Zuleeka sent him a flash of teeth and plucked another olive off Mirryn’s plate. “I don’t scare easily.”

This time it was Kiva who had to keep from throwing anything at her sister. In a warning voice, she hissed, “Zulee —”

“I h-have an idea!” Tipp cried over her, bouncing in his seat. His mouth was so full that it had sounded like, “Ih-haffndeer,” but then he swallowed and looked at Mirryn before saying, “They should c-come on Wednesday!”

Kiva tensed. “Tipp —”

“What’s on Wednesday?” Zuleeka asked.

“It’s Mirry’s b-birthday,” Tipp answered, and not for the first time did Kiva wish he would stop speaking. “She’s having a b-big party to celebrate. A m-masquerade.”

“Sounds fun,” Zuleeka said, a dangerous light entering her eyes.

“It w-will be!” Tipp exclaimed. “Can they c-come, Mirry?”

Quickly enacting damage control, Kiva interjected, “Tipp, we don’t invite people to parties that aren’t ours. It’s rude.”

“But I’ve n-never had a party to invite a-anyone to,” he said, making Kiva’s throat burn.

“It’s fine,” Mirryn said, with an imperious wave of her hand. She turned to Zuleeka and Tor. “You’re more than welcome to join us. In fact, since you’re Kiva’s family, I insist.”

“No,” Kiva said before anyone else could. “That’s very kind, but I’m sure they have other plans.”

She looked firmly at her siblings, begging them to agree.

“Kiva’s right,” Torell said, sensing her distress. “It’s a very kind offer, but we couldn’t possibly —”

“— say no to a royal invitation,” Zuleeka cut in smoothly. She looked at Mirryn, a bright smile gracing her lips. “We’d be delighted to join you, Princess. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Zulee —” Tor tried, but the look on her face halted his words.

“Mother taught us not to turn our noses up at unexpected blessings, brother,” she said, the words innocent enough but causing a vise to press in on Kiva’s lungs — a feeling that only worsened when Jaren changed the topic, leaning forward to address Torell across the table.

“You said you’re a blacksmith,” the prince observed, eyeing Torell’s muscular build. “Does that mean you know your way around a blade?”

“I’ve had some experience,” Tor answered carefully. “Mostly from volunteering as a village guard a few years back.”

“Fancy a quick sparring match?” Jaren patted his perfectly flat stomach. “We can work off our lunch.”

Having watched him eat even less than her, Kiva didn’t believe his reasoning. Tor, too, must have noticed Jaren’s lack of appetite, but he still pushed his plate away and stood.

“I’d be honored to cross swords with you, Your Highness,” he said, before offering a wry grin. “But you’ll have to forgive my sloppy footwork.”

No, no, no, no, no.

What the hell was Torellthinking?He couldn’t spar with Jaren — andespeciallynot when the prince was in such a foul mood.