Page 18 of The Blood Traitor

“Life is full of disappointments,” Cresta said, yawning again, louderthis time. “And besides, I have no desire to be anywhere near someone who can stop my heart with a thought.”

An awkward, strained silence fell, before the redhead coughed and amended, “Present company excluded.”

Instead of allowing dread to grip her, a choked laugh bubbled out of Kiva, the lightness of it surprising her after so long without any joy. And then Cresta was laughing with her, the two of them delirious from a combination of pain and fatigue, and merely from being once-enemies who were now locked in a tight, dark space together after having candidly shared their traumatic pasts.

Only when they finally sobered did Kiva hear Cresta yawn again, prompting her to say, “It’s late. You’ll heal faster if you sleep.”

“And you need to rest so you can continue your exercises tomorrow,” Cresta returned, her tone daring Kiva to argue.

But Kiva only said, “I know.”

Because something had changed in her — a spark, reignited. After weeks plagued by internal darkness, she was finally able to see a glimpse of light, even if it was just a speck in the distance. She would have to reach for it, to fight for it. But as she was beginning to realize, half the battle was finding the will to try.

And so, as Kiva curled up on the cold ground and closed her eyes, instead of dwelling on everything she’d lost,everyoneshe’d lost, she summoned their faces again — Jaren, Naari, Caldon, Tipp, Torell — and thought about how much she loved them.

For them, she would fight.

For them, she wouldlive.

And even if she had no idea how, she would find a way to earn their forgiveness.

Because they deserved that — and so did she.

Chapter Four

Neither Kiva nor Cresta was able to keep track of how long they were locked together in the Abyss. Days passed, enough for Cresta to heal entirely and then join Kiva in her daily exercises, the two of them stumbling around in the dark and tripping over each other.

They attempted to mark the passage of time by the delivery of food, twice a day from what they could tell — more than what Kiva had been allocated before her Trial by Ordeal, but still less than what their bodies required, especially with them training so much. Kiva was constantly hungry, but she took that as a good sign, since for weeks, she’d had no appetite, too consumed by her misery. Cresta’s mother had been right: the more Kiva worked her body, the better she felt, both physically and mentally. She almost enjoyed being locked away with Cresta, whose biting personality kept her on her toes, while challenging her to push herself to her limits and beyond.

And then, roughly ten days after they were locked away, the door to their cell opened.

“Get out here,” came the Butcher’s gruff voice.

Having just finished a set of grueling sit-ups, Kiva was resting against the wall to catch her breath, but at the barked command, she quickly straightened, her heart leaping into her throat.

“Hurry up,” he said, impatient.

Scrambling to her feet, Kiva followed Cresta out of the cell, both of them shielding their eyes from the shock of the luminium lights after so long in darkness.

“Not you,” the Butcher said, grabbing Cresta’s shoulder and pushing her back. “They didn’t ask for you.”

He slammed the heavy stone door shut again, leaving Cresta locked in the cell — and Kiva on her own.

“Move,” he said, shoving her forward. He then scrunched his nose and put some distance between them. “Gods, you’re ripe.”

Normally Kiva would have been mortified, but instead she was delighted that ten days of limited hygiene resulted in the Butcher keeping his distance.

“No time to clean yourself up,” he continued. “They’re gonna have to put up with your stink.”

They who?Kiva wanted to ask. But seeing his fingers clenched around his whip, wisdom kept her silent.

The Butcher led her up the stone staircases and along the gloomy corridors of the punishment block before they finally stepped outside. Spring had turned to summer while Kiva had been locked in the Abyss, and the bright sunshine was painful enough to make her blink back tears as the Butcher prodded her onward.

“Keep moving.”

Kiva stumbled as her eyes adjusted to the glare. She was desperate to know where he was taking her, but then dread filled her as he led her across the grounds, past the tunnel entrance, and toward the front gates. The Warden’s personal quarters were situated above the southern wall — had he summoned her? Had he pulled her out of the Abyss only so she might suffer a new kind of torture?

Raising her chin, Kiva was determined to endure whatever he threw at her. If her time spent in the Abyss had taught her anything — ifCrestahad taught her anything — it was that her attitude mattered. Rooke only had as much power as she gave him. He could break her body, but he couldn’t break her spirit. Not unless she allowed him to.

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