Taven nodded. “She looked right through me.”

“And she is there still?”

“As far as I know.”

Now Aurora knew her first priority. She had never known her mother to be overly emotional, but if she had never received Aurora’s note, she would have believed that Aurora really had been kidnapped for her Stormling abilities. And since Aurora had had no such abilities, kidnappers might indeed have found her worthless.

Aurora cleared her throat to make sure her voice did not crack. “And Novaya—is she well?”

Taven’s mouth dropped open slightly, and he stared. “Your Highness, I assumed you knew.”

She winced at the honorific, but pushed on to the point. “Knew what?”

“That she helped orchestrate your kidnapping.”

Aurora leaped from her seat. “That’s not true.”

Taven’s eyes widened. “She was investigated. They found a large sum of gold in her room, and the Stormheart that Prince Cassius gave you as a gift.”

She turned on instinct, and found Kiran’s jaw tightened into stone, his eyes fixed menacingly on the floor.

“I gave the Stormheart to her because it meant nothing to me. She did not steal it. And she had nothing to do with my kidnapping,” Aurora answered.

“You are certain?” Taven asked.

“Of course!”

He frowned, and his eyes turned solemn. “She’s in the dungeons. The prince put her there the day you were taken.”

Aurora nearly lost her footing. In fact, she did lose her footing, and the only reason she was not sprawled out on the floor was because someone had caught her.

Kiran.

She could feel him at her back, his large hands curled protectively around her waist. She wanted nothing more than to turn around in his arms and beg for comfort. But she steadied her footing and stepped back toward Taven.

“We have to help her.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Zephyr drawled. “To help them all. It’s not only your friends and family hurting.”

“I know that,” Aurora snapped.

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Zephyr asked.

Aurora lifted her chin and stared first at Zephyr, then Taven, and finally Kiran. She saw no hint of emotion in his expression, but he did not look away. This was the problem, and they both knew it … she wanted to help, but she did not have the first clue how.

She might have been good with a knife and decent at hand-to-hand combat, but she was not a soldier. Late at night, she still seethed with grief for the soul whose magic now lived in her breast. And that was a storm, a life already lived. How could she possibly think to fight a real war?

“I do not know,” Aurora finally answered.

Zephyr rose from the desk and walked toward Aurora. “The first thing you must do is decide where you draw the line.”

“What line?”