What she did see, however, was a small group of people standing atop the platform, safely out of reach from the prisoners below. The Warden was there, his back straight and head high as he stared emotionlessly out at the crowd. No other prison guards accompanied him; instead, there was the unmistakable armor of the Royal Guard glinting silver in the midday sun, the kingdom’s deadliest protectors encircling two distinct figures. They were both dressed in heavy winter cloaks that covered them from head to toe, and from their bearing alone, it was clear they did not belong in a place like Zalindov.

Kiva tried to get a look at their faces, but not only were they surrounded by their guards, they were also wearing masks. She’d heard rumors that the Vallentis heirs concealed their faces during public events, and she wondered if it was a power play of some kind, another way of highlighting just how out of reach they were from commoners. Because of those masks, all Kiva could tell was that the crown prince was taller than his sister, and both of them had fair hair.

Looking at them and their guards, Kiva felt both hot and cold at once. She was shaking, but whether that was from fear for Tilda or outrage at this entire spectacle, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that they were steps away from the base of the gallows, where Tilda would have to face her first Ordeal—and her almost certain demise.

Don’t let her die.

If she dies, he dies.

Kiva gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her brow despite the icy wind.

Don’t let her die.

If she dies, he dies.

Kiva couldn’t stop the Trial, couldn’t save Tilda from what would happen the moment she climbed those gallows steps, couldn’t save Tipp, couldn’t save herself.

Three lives hung in the balance, all because of one woman.

Don’t.

Let.

Her.

Die.

Kiva closed her eyes, her heart thumping in her ears, drowning out the jeers of the crowd.

She knew what she had to do.

Nausea swirled within her as she snapped her eyes open, frantically searching for a familiar face among the sea of prisoners. Mot was nowhere to be seen, nor were Olisha and Nergal. Desperate, her gaze landed on Jaren standing with the rest of the tunnelers near the foot of the gallows, his features so covered in dust that he was almost unrecognizable.

“Jaren!” Kiva screamed over the catcalling masses, ignoring the warning glare Naari shot back at her. “Jaren!”

He looked puzzled by her summons, almost alarmed, his eyes flicking up to the royals and their guards as if fearing their attention.

“What are you d-doing?” Tipp yelled at her from Tilda’s other side, barely audible over the cries and shouts from the prisoners pressing in on them.