Page 71 of The Blood Traitor

And then, when she was alone, she could let the floodgates open.

On the dais, the kings stood from their thrones and raised their hands in the air, quieting the screaming crowd.

“Dukkar, dukkar!” Thembi declared in his native language. “Tuk ekaan Arzavaar du ventek unt Evalon!”

Another roar from the audience, before the king spoke in the common tongue directly to Kiva, Ashlyn, Cresta, and Naari: “Congratulations to our Evalonian friends for triumphing over the Arzavaar! You have proved your worth as warriors — now come and receive your reward!”

At his words, the fire ring — no longer a flaming python — extinguished, leaving behind scorched earth and a clear pathway out of the arena. Two groups of beige-armored guards appeared, one set heading toward Kiva and her friends, the rest bearing canvas stretchers to carry away the fallen.

Kiva didn’t watch the second group, especially the pair of guards who approached the golden warrior. She just kept her eyes on her feet and followed her friends as they were led from the arena.

Given Thembi’s invitation, Kiva had assumed they would be delivered straight to the raised dais, but the guards didn’t head into the stands. The screams of the crowd faded as they stepped through a narrow, shaded walkway dissecting the arena walls, and then exited out into the blistering sunshine once more. After that, it was only a short stroll across to the palace, where they were taken to what was apparently to be their guest quarters for the rest of their stay.

Kiva’s gaze had remained lowered for the duration of their walk, the change of location passing in a blur. A numb feeling had enveloped her somewhere between the arena and the palace, as she’d tried and failed to justify what had happened — what she’ddone. But then all the guards except one backed out the door, and Kiva finally looked up, her dazed vision noting that she stood in a bright, circular room with large white cushions dotting the floor in front of a fireplace, along with a balcony looking not out at the arena — thankfully — but toward the opposite side of the city.

“Their Majesties have declared that there will be a feast tonight in your honor,” the remaining guard said, lingering in the doorway. Hisaccent was so thick that it took Kiva a moment to comprehend his words, and once she did, she looked desperately toward Ashlyn.

The princess’s frustrated expression told Kiva that they wouldn’t just be able to take the ring and be on their way. They would have to play the courteous political game first.

“Bathe and rest, and an escort shall return to deliver you to the banquet hall,” the guard continued. “You’ll find evening attire in your rooms.” He pointed to the closed doors that Kiva had missed in her quick perusal of the suite. Only one was ajar, revealing the edge of a ginormous bathtub in the corner.

With nothing else to say, the guard stepped back through the door and paused on the other side, holding it open.

Kiva wondered if he planned to stand sentry until the feast, but then she heard quick footsteps just before Jaren, Caldon, and Tipp appeared. Only after they were through the door did the guard close it, leaving them to their privacy.

For a moment, no one said anything as they all stared at each other. Kiva was more aware than ever of her still-damp hair and clothes, but especially of the now-dried blood staining her hands.

Jaren, Caldon, and Tipp had seen everything.

They’d watched six women die.

They’d witnessed Kiva slaying one of those women herself.

She couldn’t bear to look at them, her shame and guilt causing her stomach to roil and her eyes to burn.

But then she heard a sob, and she glanced up to see Tipp running toward her, tears streaking his cheeks.

Kiva’s mind blanked when his small body collided with hers, the force of it sending her backwards a step. She stood there, stunned, as he wrapped his arms around her and burrowed his face into her chest.

“Y-Y-You nearly died!” he wailed, his voice muffled by her leathery armor. “Y-You nearly left m-me!”

“Tipp,” Kiva whispered, emotion clogging her throat. She returned his embrace hesitantly, fearing he would suddenly remember that he wasn’t speaking to her and push her away. But he didn’t — if anything, his grip tightened.

“I’m s-sorry!” he cried, tilting his tearstained face back to look at her through watery blue eyes. “I’m s-s-so sorry! J-Jaren said I should f-forgive you, that you d-didn’t have a choice and you o-only lied to protect me, but I was j-just so mad! And you n-nearly drowned thinking I h-hate you! I d-don’t! I don’t hate you, K-Kiva! I couldn’t n-never hate you! I l-love you! Please b-believe me!”

He burrowed his face again as his sobbing intensified. As much as his declaration made Kiva want to cry right along with him, and as much as she wanted to comfort him, she was too shocked by what he’d just revealed. Her disbelieving gaze shot toward Jaren, only to find him staring hard into the empty fireplace.

Caldon, however, was striding toward his sister, his face pale, but his expression determined. As Kiva watched, he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then shook his head at himself, before reaching out and pulling Ashlyn into his arms.

The stoic princess turned as still as a statue.

And then promptly burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry, Ashy,” Caldon said quietly. “It was always too painful, the thought of seeing you. It always made me think of them, and it was so much easier to act like they — and you — never existed. But watching you today, realizing I could have lost you, too... I made a mistake in staying away. It was selfish, and I know I hurt you. Can you forgive me?”

Ashlyn only cried harder, but she nodded into her brother’s chest. “Of course I can, you big, stupid oaf,” she blubbered, before leaning back and punching him in the shoulder. Hard.

Caldon grunted and rubbed his arm, glaring at her. “What was that for?”

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