Page 7 of The Gilded Cage

“K-Kiva! You’re h-h-here!”

Jaren came to a dead halt and muttered a curse under his breath when he saw who stood before them. Kiva’s eyes softened at the young redheaded boy skipping their way, but then she snickered when she saw the reason for Jaren’s distress — his Golden Shield standing with her arms crossed, her dark face frowning with displeasure.

Before anyone could say anything — or shout anything, judging by Naari’s expression — Tipp reached Kiva and wrapped his arms around her in a quick hug. While it was brief, she reveled in the embrace, painfully aware that he’d nearly died six weeks earlier. Had she not arrived at the infirmary in time, had she not been able to use her long-suppressed magic to heal him ...

But Tipp hadn’t died. He was alive and well, and just as effervescent as he’d always been.

Kiva had worried, the first few days after his near-death experience. He’d been disoriented when he’d finally awoken, even terrified. It had taken some quick lies to convince him that he’d bumped his head and anything he remembered couldn’t be trusted. When she’d assured him that he was all right, that he wasfree,he’d bounced back to his joyous self, ready to take on the world and experience life to the fullest. He hadn’t even blinked at hearing Jaren was a prince, but was simply all the more excited for what adventures they might find once they reached Vallenia.

“Come on, c-c-come on,come on,” Tipp said, yanking her toward the far edge of the building.

Kiva noted that there was a blanket resting on the ground, an open hamper beside it with fruit and pastries all laid out invitingly. But she only spared them a half glance as Tipp brought her to a screeching halt, her attention diverted by the view of the city.

“Wow,” Kiva breathed. It wasn’t just the shining River Palace that left her awestruck; with luminium threaded into the pale-colored rooftops of many of Vallenia’s homes, the entire city appeared to be glowing as the final kiss of sunshine faded beyond the horizon.

“Right?” Tipp said, jigging from foot to foot. “N-Naari said it’s one of the b-best views in the whole c-capital.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kiva agreed, glancing back to see the guard having a heated conversation with Jaren. The prince looked like he was fighting a grin, which was doing nothing to soothe Naari’s temper.

“Do you think w-we should save him?” Tipp whispered, following Kiva’s gaze. “Naari was really m-m-mad when she realized he’d l-left without her.”

“He survived Zalindov,” Kiva said, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, the panoramic view unobstructed before her. “He can survive Naari.”

“— and if youeverrun off like that again, I’ll lock you in the dungeons myself, do you hear me?”

Naari’s irate voice floated over to them, prompting Kiva to wince and amend her previous statement. “Probably.”

Tipp snickered, but quickly shoved a pastry in his mouth when Naari stomped their way, rearranging her weapons so she could sit. She speared a look at Kiva and threatened, “If I find out you had anything to do with —”

Kiva quickly raised her hands. “I was innocently minding my own business before he dragged me here.”

“Thanks for the solidarity,” Jaren muttered, collapsing beside Kiva, close enough for her to feel his body warmth. She contemplated shifting away, but she hadn’t dressed with a nighttime outing in mind when she’d left that morning, her thin cardigan doing little to ward off the evening chill.

One night, she reminded herself. It would do little harm for her to remain where she was.

“At least we have p-plenty of food,” Tipp said, reaching for some grapes.

“What a relief,” Jaren said, his tone dry.

Kiva realized something then: Jaren had cursed upon seeing Naari and Tipp, as if he hadn’t expected them to be there. All of this — the view, the blanket, the hamper — he’d set it up for her.

She turned to find a sheepish expression on his face. He shrugged slightly, as if to say that he’d tried, and something within her melted. But then she reminded herself of who he was and what she planned to do to him — what shehadto do to him — and she looked away, slamming a wall around her heart.

“For future reference,” Naari declared, “the next time the two of you sneak off for some alone time, please do soinsidethe palace grounds.”

Kiva opened her mouth to deny her involvement, but Jaren jumped in first by saying, “Where’s the fun in that?” He tossed an apple to the guard. “Eat something, Naari. You’re grumpier than usual when you’re hungry.”

The look she sent him promised retribution, but she raised the fruit to her lips and bit into it.

“Not long to go,” Jaren told Kiva, offering her a plate of pastries. “Eat up and get comfortable.”

Nibbling on a custard tart, Kiva marveled at the novelty of being able to eat freely. For the first time since she was a child, she actually had flesh on her bones, not to mention curves that had been previously nonexistent. Tipp, too, had flourished in the time since leaving Zalindov and its meager rations, his boyish frame filling out, his freckled skin glowing with youthful radiance.

Kiva wondered how she’d ever survived for so long on so little. But Zalindov was behind her. One day, she would seek justice for the crimes committed by Warden Rooke, the man responsible for her father’s death and so many others. But that day, she knew, would have to wait.

“Any second now,” Jaren said, just as the last of the sun’s rays sank below the horizon.

Tipp rose eagerly onto his knees, while Naari continued chewing on her apple, her alert amber eyes darting around the rooftop. Kiva squinted into the twilight, having no idea what she was supposed to be looking for, especially with the darkness quickly setting in.

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