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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Lynette Noni
Read between
September 23 - September 30, 2025
One day, she would be with her family again. One day, she would be free of Zalindov, a prisoner no longer. For ten years, she had been waiting for that day. But every week that passed, her hope dwindled more and more.
At eleven years of age, nothing ever seemed to faze him. No matter the ridicule and frustration he suffered through every single day, he always brought light with him wherever he went, always had a kind word and a gentle touch for the prisoners who needed him the most. He was even pleasant to the guards, regardless of how rough and impatient they were with him.
“That’s a bit of a mouthful. Probably easier if you stick with Jaren.”
“It’s believed that she’s Tilda Corentine,” the guard said. “The Rebel Queen.”
I’d rather you wish for brains or loyalty or courage, my sweet girl. Magic is dangerous, and those who have it are forever looking over their shoulders.
“You’re going to make sure she stays alive long enough to be rescued. And in return, I won’t kill that boy you’re so fond of. The one with the stutter. Tipp, isn’t it?”
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the Rebel Queen died today without bearing Zalindov’s symbol, was she really a prisoner, or was she still free?
“I’ve always rooted for the underdog,” Mirryn said, almost musingly. “And you, Kiva Meridan, are the biggest underdog I’ve ever seen.”
And then Mirryn shoved him past Captain Veris and out the door, pausing only to straighten her cloak and call back to Kiva, “I still think you have a death wish. Feel free to prove me wrong.”
The truth was, she liked waking up to find him beside her bed. She liked that he was concerned, that he cared enough to be angry.
Tipp had never shied away from affection before, but the forehead kiss was something new.
When he’d sat beside her and asked how she was feeling, she’d said, apropos of nothing, “You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Like sunlight on the sea.”
Jaren, too, had been an unexpected helper, especially since he found an excuse to visit the infirmary every day, both before and after his work shifts, always under the guise of collecting various remedies for his fellow tunnelers.
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Jaren’s eyes were dancing as he replied, “She must be yours.”
“You are wise for your years, Kiva Meridan.” You’re wise beyond your years, little mouse.
But for the first time in a long time, Kiva wished she could stop the inevitable from happening.
“The carvings,” Naari guessed. “Among other things,” Kiva said. “Plus, I kept her alive when she first arrived here.” A confused pause, before Naari said, “Usually people are grateful for that.” “Not if they want to die.”
People—especially men—could react poorly if they thought their intelligence was being criticized.
“I had a run-in with another prisoner at dinner, someone who claimed to be an old acquaintance of yours,” Jaren said, almost too casually. “I didn’t like the way she was talking about you, and her friends didn’t like when I asked her to stop. Things escalated until we were no longer speaking with words.”
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“She’s dangerous. If you value anything I say, stay away from her.” “I value everything you say, Kiva.”
So you’re right, you don’t need me fighting your battles.” He moved a step closer, his tone husky as he finished, “But . . . if you’ll let me, I’d like to be standing beside you as you fight them.”
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But wishing had never done her any good before, just as she knew it wouldn’t now.
But, Papa, the endings are the best part. Sometimes, sweetheart. But other times, the beginnings are.
But that night, when he didn’t return, Kiva knew.
It had been nine years, but Kiva would not let his death be in vain. He’d given everything—including his life—to try and save the sick back then. Kiva was determined to finish what he’d started.
It was only when she’d cried her last that sleep finally found her, and she drifted off wrapped in Jaren’s embrace, feeling safe and protected for the first time in years.
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Hope was a drug, and Kiva an addict. She couldn’t keep believing, couldn’t keep trusting, couldn’t keep hoping.
Naari grabbed Kiva’s arm and ushered her forward. To the onlookers, her actions would appear pushy. What they didn’t see was how gentle her touch was and the encouraging squeeze of her fingers, a silent assurance that everything would be all right.
Yeh leave it with old Mot, I’ll sort yeh out.” The smile Kiva sent him was wobbly. “Thank you.” The old man replied with his own brown-toothed grin. “Yeh’re a survivor, Kiva Meridan. Yeh’ll survive this, too.”
“Never apologize for loving someone. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.”
He’d brought her back to life. But that wasn’t the part she didn’t understand.
She couldn’t summon any relief that she wasn’t to be flogged next, because Rooke had been right about her punishment—watching was worse. Her purpose in life was to heal people, not hurt them. And there Jaren was, suffering not only because of her, but also instead of her.
Jaren wasn’t a prisoner—he was a Vallentis. And not just any Vallentis. He’s quite taken with you.
Because he cared for Kiva. Because he didn’t want her to die. Because he had the power to save her. So he did.
fear and concern—forher—splashed across his pale, pained features.
“Congratulations, you’re about to die together.”
His blue-gold gaze locked on hers. “Because I found a reason to stay.”
You didn’t deserve to die, and it was within my power to keep you alive. So I did.”
“Please,” he rasped out. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like I’m broken.”
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