“You’re hilarious,” Jaren deadpanned, but there was a renewed light in his eyes, and seeing it eased something within her. “For the record, I’ve never sent anyone to prison. And after being here myself . . .” He shuddered. “I never intend to. At least, not until this place has undergone some considerable restructuring. Things have to change.” In a quiet voice, as if making a promise to himself, he said, “Things will change.”

Kiva wanted to believe him. She really did. But he wouldn’t be able to follow through on any of his good intentions from the middle of the tunnel labyrinth.

“How about you start refining your prison takeover after we find a way out of here,” she said.

“Right,” Jaren agreed. “That’s what I was about to tell you—why Rooke made a mistake.”

“I’m listening,” Kiva said. She noticed that Jaren was beginning to sway again, so she made a decision, sliding up beside him and carefully wrapping her arm around his waist. She knew it would hurt him, but there was no way they’d be getting out of the tunnels at all if she didn’t help him walk.

“I hope it goes without saying that most of what I’ve told you today has to remain a secret,” Jaren said.

“I figured,” Kiva said, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

Jaren paused for a long moment, as if deliberating what he was about to share. Finally, he said, “I broke your trust, so hopefully this will give you a reason to believe in me again. It’s something only a handful of people in the world know.”

Kiva’s ears pricked up, and she glanced at his face as he wrapped his arm more securely around her shoulders.

“Mirryn is a year older than me,” he said. “She should have been the heir, the crown princess, but then I came along.”

“Firstborn son gets the rights,” Kiva muttered. “Typical.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Jaren said. “Our ancestor, Queen Sarana, she ruled alone—after King Torvin left, I mean. Later in life, Sarana had a daughter, who went on to rule when she died. Then that daughter had a daughter, who had a daughter, and so it went, all down the line. A few princes rose to be kings if they happened to be the eldest siblings, but for the most part, Vallentis mothers tend to bear daughters as their firstborns.”

Kiva’s forehead crinkled. “Then why . . .”

“This is the part few people outside of my family know,” Jaren said, his tone serious enough for Kiva to realize how much he was trusting her right now. When she held his gaze, offering her own silent promise in return, he looked away from her, sending his floating fire ahead, where it stopped at a three-pronged fork in the tunnel, lighting it up.