Page 119 of The Blood Traitor

She then remounted Zephyr and listened as Jaren, Naari, and Cresta uttered brief goodbyes, before the four of them were racing along the road again, their path familiar this time as they left the forest and flew along the coastline. The day was clear, the weather perfect, and if not for what Kiva knew was ahead, she might have thought they were out for a pleasant midday ride. But then they crested the last sea cliff and saw Vallenia laid out before them.

There, they came to a sudden, shocked halt.

Because rising above everything else was the shining River Palace.

And it was on fire.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Navok had come.

That was all Kiva could think as she and her friends galloped the remaining distance to Vallenia, before tearing through the city streets and along the winding River Road at a harrowing pace, urgency thrumming them forward.

Ever since they’d learned that the Mirraven king was on his way, Kiva had prayed they would arrive before him, if only to be one step ahead before he ordered his anomalies to attack. But her hopes had been in vain. And now, not only did they have to get the final ring, but they would also have to face both NavokandZuleeka.

At least the anomalies weren’t attacking the city —yet.Only the palace was under fire, and the closer they moved to it, the more Kiva could see that the flames were contained to the barracks, the stables, and the grounds — on both the eastern and western sides of the river. Despite that, the streets of Vallenia were mayhem, with citizens screaming and running as far as they could from the center of the city. Kiva, Jaren, Naari, and Cresta were the only ones foolish enough to be ridingtowardthe danger, but they didn’t stop, pushing their horses faster until they finally reached the palace gates.

There was no one guarding them — and they were sealed tight.

Jaren cursed as they all quickly dismounted and rushed forward for a better look through the cast iron fence. Their view revealed a large portion of the extensive gardens bordering the path up to the palace, and while normally those gardens were perfectly manicured, right now they were in shambles. The earth was shifting and cracking, the plants unnaturally overgrown, many places raging with fire, others being lashedby river waves — and in the middle of it all were guards and anomalies fighting ferociously with both magical and mundane weapons.

Kiva recognized the dark armor of Evalon’s soldiers and the silver of their Royal Guard, even the gray leathers worn by Navok’s anomalies — and by his Gray Guards too, since not everyone fighting for Mirraven was using magic. There were no soldiers from Caramor, thanks to the dissolution of their alliance, but Kiva’s relief was brief, and it fled entirely when she spotted people dressed in everyday clothes. Her heart clenched when she saw the figure leading them, right in the thick of the battle, his sword raised as he roared instructions that she was too far away to hear.

Torell.

He’d rallied the rebels. And with him, fighting back-to-back, was Rhessinda, her braided ashy hair swinging wildly as she defended herself and her general.

Kiva wanted to tear through the fence and run to help them, but she knew she would be useless in large-scale combat, only getting in the way. That knowledge solidified as she watched Tor swing and parry and push back the Gray Guards, as he ducked and dodged magic from the anomalies, reminding her he was capable of handling himself. But still she longed to pull him to safety. He would never let her, though. She knew her brother — he would always fight for what he believed in. And right now, he was fighting for Evalon.

No — he was fighting for the Vallentis family.

Because there was Ashlyn, battling mere feet from him, her pale armor covered in mud and blood as she swung a sword in one hand and threw magic with the other, sending Gray Guards and anomalies flying, her loyal soldiers equally unflinching against their supernatural opponents.

“We need to get in there,” Jaren said urgently, his knuckles white on the iron. “We need to help them.”

It took everything in Kiva to say, “We can’t — we need to get inside the palace. Our priorities haven’t changed: the rings, Navok, Zuleeka.”

“If we take Navok down, his anomalies will have no reason to fight,” Naari said, watching the battle, her features grave. “Kiva’s right — we can’t lose time helping them. We need to head straight for the palace.”

Cresta waved to the mess of bodies and magic. “How do you plan to get throughthat?”

Jaren’s tension was palpable, but he tore his eyes from the fight. “We don’t go through it.” His gaze dropped to the ground. “We go under it.”

Understanding hit Kiva, and she breathed, “The tunnels.”

Only Cresta seemed confused, but she didn’t ask questions as they remounted and raced to the hidden entrance at the rear of the palace. They had to leave their horses there, with Kiva giving Zephyr a quick, grateful pat before lowering herself into the iron grate. The secret passage was pitch-black, just like the last time she’d traveled down it, but she swiftly called her magic to light their way.

None of them spoke as they ran along the narrow path and reached the fork Kiva had once taken to spy on the Royal Council. They didn’t venture that way, instead continuing upward, ascending the steep, rocky steps until they finally exited through the creaky door leading into the larger underground thoroughfare that passed beneath the river, connecting the two sides of the palace.

There they paused, breathing hard and looking at each other in question.

“Where to now?” Cresta demanded, peering left and right along the luminium-lit, pillared space.

“We need to find Mirryn,” Kiva panted. Jaren could fight well with his blades, but he could do so much more with his magic. Navok’s anomalies were acting out of desperation — they’d lived in peaceful villages for most of their lives, and regardless of whatever training they’d undergoneafter being conscripted, they weren’t equipped for battle, given what Kiva had seen aboveground. If they’d known how to use their powers effectively, they would have been slaughtering Ashlyn’s soldiers and Tor’s rebels with a wave of their hands. Instead, they’d been floundering, the damage real but trivial in comparison to what itcouldhave been. Jaren, however, had spent his entire life training his magic in battle scenarios. Kiva hadseenhim down in these very tunnels, practicing against his family. If she could return his powers, then he could —

“But whereisshe?” Cresta asked through gritted teeth. “And don’t forget Navok. I need to —”

“This way,” Jaren interrupted, running forward again, heading west.

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