Page 132 of The Blood Traitor

A memory filled with love,Caldon had added.

Even in the midst of the battle, that wasn’t difficult for Kiva — because all she had to do was think ofthem.

Jaren and Caldon.

Tipp and Naari.

Cresta and Torell and Ashlyn.

All the people so dear to her, who had fought with her — and for her. She thought of kissing Jaren on the mountaintop, of crying in Caldon’s arms. Of Tipp’s gap-toothed smile and Naari’s fierce protection. Of Cresta’s unexpected friendship, Torell’s unflinching loyalty, and Ashlyn’s unearned kindness.

They were her hope.

They were her strength.

They were the reason she would not give up.

Could notgive up.

And when Zuleeka finally managed to get a lucky swipe in, slashing her blade across Naari’s torso and sending her staggering to the ground, Kiva didn’t hesitate. One arm shot out toward the guard, golden light stitching the wound back together, while her other arm pointed straight at Zuleeka, all the love and hope and strength she was feeling coming out of her in a blaze as bright as the sun, striking her sister in the chest.

Zuleeka dropped her sword and went down onto a knee, a shriek leaving her as she scrambled to summon her shadows.

Dark and light.

Light and dark.

Zuleeka continued resisting, and fear tried to overwhelm Kiva, but she wouldn’t let it, thinking only of those she loved, of the strength that love gave her.

And then, suddenly, Zuleeka’s shadows were gone.

Kiva tipped forward from the unexpected lack of resistance, nearly losing her footing.

The bridge battle continued around them, but it was as if they were in their own bubble as they stared at each other, chests heaving with exertion, emerald eyes locked on honey-gold.

Kiva’s pulse was racing, the question ofIs it over?flooding her mind. She was aware of Naari trying to get up but not yet able to, of Jaren finally being free of opponents and sprinting her way. But her gazeremained only on Zuleeka, who was still kneeling in defeat, looking up at her with emotion-filled eyes.

Her shadows were gone.

Her death magic burned away.

Healed.

Kiva stood there, shaking, hardly daring to believe it, not even when Zuleeka opened her mouth, her voice a broken rasp of sound.

“Everything I did was for our family,” she whispered. “Everything I achieved — everything Iwanted— was for us.”

Kiva swallowed. “It was never yours to want.”

Zuleeka didn’t hear her. Didn’t listen. Her tone changed, becoming as hard as steel as she hissed, “You tried to take that from me. So now I’ll take everythingyouwant.”

A loud, pained cry made Kiva’s head whip to the side just in time to see Navok’s stunned face as Cresta pulled her blade from his chest, his hands clutching at the mortal wound before he stumbled backwards — right over the railing and into the river below.

Cresta had done it.

She had defeated Navok.

She was queen of Mirraven.

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