Page 85 of The Gilded Cage

She had to go to him, she realized, pushing back her blankets. She had to at leasttryto make things better. It was the only way she’d be able to soothe her twisting insides.

The problem was, Caldon didn’t sleep in the palace — he slept in the barracks.

Unable to just don a dressing gown and wander down the hall to his room, Kiva had to find a dry cloak and fasten it over her pajamas, tucking her long silk pants inside a fresh pair of boots. Her dark nightclothes were barely visible beneath her cloak, but she was careful to clasp the front tightly as she left her room and ventured downstairs and out into the night.

With the storm having cleared, there was a bite to the air that had Kiva moving swiftly along the path toward the brightly lit barracks. It was late enough that Caldon should be somewhere in the sleeping quarters, which, if she recalled correctly, were located between the mess hall and the private infirmary.

Upon arriving at the entrance, Kiva reached the doors as two guards were walking out, a man and a woman wearing polished armor and clearly on their way to begin the night shift. They looked at her with curiosity, but neither stopped her as she brushed past. Because of that, she turned and asked, “Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Cal — er, Prince Caldon?”

The female guard arched an eyebrow, and Kiva cursed inwardly, realizing how her presence there —in the middle of the night— could be construed. She tightened her fingers around her cloak and kept her head high, willing the blush away from her cheeks.

The male guard — someone Kiva recognized from the training yard — didn’t bat an eyelash, so she hoped that meant he’d keep his companion from spreading any uncomfortable rumors.

“The prince has a private room,” the man answered, before offering quick directions.

Kiva thanked him and continued inside the building. While curious, she didn’t pause to tour the infirmary, nor did she linger at the multiple doorways she passed, many of which she assumed led to private quarters and meeting rooms, and others to dormitories where the lower-ranked guards bunked together.

As Kiva approached Caldon’s room, nerves fluttered within her. She halted outside his door, staring at the wood and summoning her courage before knocking quietly. When no answer came, she frowned and knocked again, louder.

For one embarrassing moment, Kiva wondered if Caldon had company — the kind he wouldn’t want interrupted. Grimacing, she started backing away, but then the door opened, revealing the prince in sleep trousers and a rumpled, unbuttoned shirt. His hair was tousled and his eyes were squinting into the brighter light of the hallway, indicating he’d just been rudely awoken.

Kiva bit her lip, fearing he’d now have another reason to be angry at her — not that he needed it. As it was, he already appeared to be debating whether or not to close the door on her.

“Please,” she rasped. “I’d really like to talk.”

Caldon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he moved to the side, allowing her entry.

Slipping past him, Kiva looked around his quarters with unveiled interest. Aside from the bed, desk, bookcase, and wardrobe, the room was bare, the space practical and functional. There was no art on the walls, no clutter on the floor, everything perfectly in its place — with no personality whatsoever. It was so antithetical to everything Caldon was that Kiva felt a thread of alarm, enough that, instead of opening with a repeat of her earlier apology, the first thing she blurted was, “Why don’t you live in the palace?”

Caldon closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his semi-bare chest. “Why are you here, Kiva?”

He didn’t answer her question. But worse, he’d called her by her real name. Not Sunshine, not Sweet Cheeks. She loathed them both — or so she told herself — and yet she would have given anything to hear either of them from him right now.

“May I sit?” Kiva gestured to the chair behind the desk.

Caldon didn’t move from the door. “No.”

Kiva had known this would be difficult, but he wasn’t eventryingto make it easier for her.

“I know you’re upset with me,” she said in a placating tone. “You have every right to be.”

“How generous of you,” he said flatly, his face hard.

Wincing, Kiva reminded herself ofwhyhe was so angry — and that it wasn’t just because she’d drugged him.

Do you have any idea how that feels, to know someone you care about is missing, possibly in danger, and you don’t know how to find them?

Unable to hold his angry gaze, Kiva looked away, her eyes landing on his desk and seeing something she’d missed during her initial scan, the only hint of color in the otherwise utilitarian space.

It was a small, framed portrait — a boy and girl, both grinning widely with their arms around each other, behind whom stood a man and woman smiling adoringly down at them.

Kiva’s heart gave a painful throb as she shifted closer, her fingers itching to take hold of the frame, but she made herself resist. Even so, she knew exactly what she was looking at: Caldon and his family, before tragedy had ripped them apart.

“I screwed up,” she whispered.

Caldon straightened in surprise.

“I made a mess of things today. I should have just told you I needed some alone time. I hate —” Her voice broke. “I hate that I put you through that.”

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