Page 111 of The Prison Healer

The prisoners never won. They might have numbers on their side, but they were weak, underfed, and exhausted, while the guards were in perfect health and had lethal weapons, plus the advantage of the watchtowers and the walls.

Riots turned Zalindov into a slaughterhouse, and resulted in nothing but devastation.

“As soon as I learned what was happening, I rode to Vaskin and sent a missive to King Stellan and Queen Ariana,” Naari said, her voice stronger now, trying to let Kiva know that she was handling it, as if she alone could make everything better. “I’ve told them all about Rooke and his poison. They’ll put a stop to this. It’s barbaric, even for Zalindov. They won’t let it stand. And once prisoners are no longer dying, the rest of them will calm down. Everything will go back to normal.”

“Why would the king and queen care?” Kiva’s voice sounded distant to her own ears, her hopelessness all-consuming. “You’re a prison guard. You might as well be no one in their eyes. They won’t give a damn what you have to say.”

The words were harsh, and if Kiva hadn’t been so distraught after all she’d just heard, she would have been more tactful. But Naari didn’t take offense. If anything, she seemed confused.

“A prison guard?” she repeated, frowning. Slowly, she asked, “I thought you spoke with Jaren? Down in the quarry?”

Kiva’s mind was still on the poison revelation and the impending riot. She was overcome with fear, dreading what it might mean for any of them, for all of them. Naari was right—Rooke’s actions were barbaric. But to think that Evalon’s royal family would care enough to intervene, when they were the reason so many of the prisoners were in Zalindov at all ... Naari was dreaming. And that wasifthey even read her missive, which Kiva thought was unlikely.

“Didn’t hetellyou?”

The guard’s words pulled Kiva’s attention back to her. And to the disbelieving expression on her face.

“Tell me what?”

“You saw his magic.” Naari seemed at a loss. “He used it to save you.”

Kiva was having trouble keeping up, failing to understand why Naari seemed so distressed. “I know that.” She waved to the cell. “It’s why we’re here—because he interfered.”

Not that Kiva was complaining, since Jarenhadpulled her back from certain death. She might hate everything about the Abyss, but at least she was still alive. Jaren, too.

“Then ... you know who he is,” Naari said haltingly, as if it wereshewho didn’t understand.

Kiva’s brow furrowed. “Who he ...” She trailed off, something clicking in her brain.

You can’t tell anyone who I am.

In the quarry, Jaren had said that to her. He’d thought she’d understood then, that she’d realized on her own. He hadn’t said not to tell anyone what he coulddo,hadn’t asked her not to mention hismagical ability. Instead, he’d warned her not to revealwho hewas.

You can’t tell anyone who I am.

She’d assumed he was an anomaly. She’d been waiting for an explanation as to how he had magic when it was so rare outside of those born to the royal houses of Corentine or Vallentis—the Corentine bloodline with healing magic, and the Vallentis bloodline with ... with ...

With elemental magic.

Kiva gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth.

She’d been such a fool.

Such a blind,stupidfool.

You can’t tell anyone who I am.

Jaren wasn’t a prisoner—he was aVallentis.

And not just any Vallentis.

He’s quite taken with you.

Mirryn hadn’t been talking about the masked man from the gallows parading as a prince, the rogue who had flirted with Kiva in the infirmary. She’d been talking about her brother—herrealbrother—who had been wearing a dirty tunic and standing in the crowd. The same brother who had kept Kiva from falling to her death and then infused fire magic into his family’s crest, making Mirryn, hissister,deliver it.

Because he cared for Kiva.

Because he didn’t want her to die.

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