The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(26)

She held my gaze, unblinking, her silence trapping my breath in my throat. Then finally, she blurted out, “The man I fought is dead.”

“What?”

“He didn’t escape.” Her voice broke. “I killed him.”

I stared at her. Repeating the words in my head, I tried to force them into making sense. Though Kiva had been a member of the guard for several years before Ronoch, she’d never seriously hurt someone before. Never killed. Until now.

For me.

“You saved my life.” My voice came out hoarse. “Those men tried to kill me, and you saved me.”

Her hands curled into fists. “It’s not—I don’t feel—” She turned, toppling a nearby chair with a swift kick. “How in the Saints’ name am I supposed to protect you, to become captain, if I can’t handle killing one man?” She sent another chair skidding across the floor. “I felt sick for hours afterward! I still do. I feel like a mess.”

“You look like one too.” I tucked the escaped hairs from her braid behind her ear. If only I could fix the damage inside as easily. Kiva always knew what to say to me; all I wanted was to do the same for her.

I tried to smile. “There’s nothing wrong with that though.”

“Nothing wrong? I can’t implode every time I kill someone!”

“I didn’t realize you planned on doing it often.”

“I’m not! But if I need to…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

I set the chairs back on their feet and settled into one, patting the seat of the other. Kiva dropped into it, pressing her head into her hand, messy blond hair tumbling into her fingers.

When I was upset, I needed Kiva to shake me out of it, to break my pattern. On the much rarer occasion that she needed me, I had to take a different approach.

“If we’d had this conversation a few days ago, I’d have said you were worrying about something you shouldn’t,” I began slowly. “But now, there’s a real possibility our lives will be in danger again, and maybe it’ll come down to you or someone else. And that’s not your fault.”

Kiva had probably thought these things herself, but words could be so much more powerful coming from someone else. I’d told myself a thousand times to get out of bed after Ronoch, but without Kiva’s help, I might never have.

“Your guilt is a good thing,” I said. “If you ever don’t feel it, that’s when you should worry. But you can’t let it destroy you. You’ve worked too hard to get where you are, and I need you there too much. That day proved it. I needed you to protect me, and I’ll need you more than ever in the next few weeks.”

The truth of my words settled in my chest like leaves fluttering to the earth. I couldn’t do this without Kiva. “You’re more than my friend, Kiva. You’re my family. And whenever you need me, I’ll be there, and, if worst comes to worst, you can repeat all this nonsense back to me, and maybe we’ll be okay.”

She held my gaze like a lifeline, the pain behind her eyes fading. Then slowly, she leaned forward. I caught her in my arms, holding tight. We were like children again, Kiva seeking refuge from her mother’s critical gaze. She didn’t cry; she never did. She just stayed in my arms until she didn’t need to anymore, then I helped her fix her braid and smooth out her clothes, and we left the room together.

I paused a step away, the implication of my own words catching up to me. I’d said I would need her in the next few weeks, but… Drawing a deep breath, I said, “I leave for Illucia tomorrow.”

“You mean we leave tomorrow.” She didn’t even blink.

“We?”

She smirked. “Yes, we.”

Something loosened in my chest, and I let out a breath. I hadn’t asked Kiva to come, afraid if I did, she’d say no. She had a life here, a career, a dream—I knew what it was to lose those things.

Still, I should have known better than to think she’d choose them over me.

“Do you know where your mother is?” I asked. “I’ve been thinking, and I have an idea.”

It was time I stopped living in the past and started preparing for the future.

*

A few minutes later, everyone I’d asked for was gathered in Caliza’s office. Kiva leaned against the wall beside the desk, Caliza behind it with Captain Mirkova a rigid force at her side. In one of the chairs across from them, Lady Kerova, head of House Kerova, sat poised like a swift bird, her hands folded in her lap. Tama, delicate tattoos of the Jin guilds, curled up her neck and along her jaw in red and gold ink that shifted when she smiled.

I hadn’t stood face-to-face with one of the house leaders in weeks. Seeing her, memories flashed: her gentle smile whenever I tried and failed to sneak up on her, she and Estrel playing games of dice at the patio table late into the night, her shadow crow materializing suddenly from the darkness to startle me in an endless game, Caliza peering at her around corners, her childhood crush obvious to everyone except her.

Next to Estrel, she’d been my mother’s most trusted friend, as well as her war advisor.

I didn’t sit. The last few days had awoken something inside me once smothered by ash and grief, and a wild energy coursed through me.

“I have an idea,” I began. “And it’s a little absurd.”