“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.

* * *