Page 56 of The Prison Healer

Kiva chewed her cheek, considering. The topmost layers of the quarry had already been mined so that there was now a significant—andsheer—drop down to where the prisoners were chiseling away at the lower edges of the pit. The land itself was an arid gray, but shimmers caught in the light every so often, hints of the glittery luminium threading through the stone.

“Why don’t we just follow the path until we hit the bottom, and I’ll find some places to take samples once we’re closer to the workers?” Kiva finally said.

Naari started down the slope, her steps confident, while Kiva picked her way more carefully. It was wide enough to fit a cart, but all she had to do was twist her ankle on a loose stone and she’d be in real trouble. Unlike Naari, Kiva was neither athletic nor strong, life as a prisoner failing to provide much in the way of fitness. The laborers were the exception; being forced to work under such grueling conditions meant they couldn’tnotbe fit. It was that or die. And they almost always died anyway.

Just like Jaren would.

Kiva pushed away the thought. She’d known from the moment she’d met him that he’d be allocated a labor job, and it would lead to his death. There was nothing they could do about it, and there was no point in dwelling on it. Zalindov was cruel—it always had been, and it always would be.

But for the first time in a long time, Kiva wished she could stop the inevitable from happening.

“You’re quiet.”

Kiva’s head jerked up at Naari’s words. “I’m just watching where I step.”

Naari let it slide, even though it was clear she knew Kiva was wrestling with her thoughts. Soon the noise became so much that they weren’t able to easily converse anyway, with the sounds of hammers smashing into rock and picks chipping away at stone echoing loudly in their ears.

Given how expansive the pit was, more prisoners were allocated here than anywhere else. At any given time, there were upward of seven hundred quarriers, most perishing within a year. And it wasn’t just that there was space for them; it was also because of how vital the luminium was—not only for power and lighting, but also infrastructure and architecture. The more laborers there were, the faster the luminium could be extracted, with a further three hundred or so prisoners allocated to the depository inside the gates where they processed the mineral and prepared it for shipping to the rest of Wenderall.

It was a well-oiled machine that relied on the lives—and deaths—of prisoners.

As Kiva and Naari made their way past the first gray-clothed workers and the guards watching over them, the clanging of tools was augmented by the tangy smell of sweat and blood, combined with the chalky scent of quarry dust. A few people glanced their way, but no one stopped them. The dirt-covered prisoners had little energy to spare for curiosity, and the guards were watching their charges closely, whips in hand and ready for the slightest hint of anyone slacking off.

Kiva’s chest burned with resentment, but she made herself remember that she was here for one reason only: to collect her samples. If she figured out where the sickness was coming from, she’d be able to keep all these workers from dying even more prematurely—for what it was worth.

As they walked along the lower levels of the pit, Kiva signaled to Naari when she found places that had seen or were currently seeing higher levels of contact with the laborers. Pausing each time, she scraped samples into the flasks she’d brought with her, before continuing on down the path. Mostly she searched for stagnant puddles of water and small bogs of mud that had a mixture of quarry minerals all mashed in together, especially when they were well trodden by prisoners’ footprints or nestled into rocky crevasses near where the laborers worked.

It was just as she was about to tell Naari that she had enough samples and was ready to go that a scornful voice called out to her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Zalindov’s Bitch.”

Kiva turned woodenly to find Cresta standing behind her. The redhead’s face was smeared with quarry dust, her serpent tattoo almost appearing alive beneath the luminous grime.

The last time Kiva had seen her, Cresta had been threatening Tipp’s life. So far, Kiva had upheld her side of the bargain to keep Tilda alive, but the look Cresta was now leveling at her served as a clear reminder that she still had work to do. Zalindov’s rebels wouldn’t be happy until their queen was free—and perhaps, them with her.

A shiver ran down Kiva’s spine. She hadn’t considered what would happen when the rebels came to rescue Tilda. Would they be taking others with them, too? Others ... like Cresta?

Kiva shook off the thought, determining that it wasn’t her problem. She had enough to deal with without the moral fallout from such a decision.

“Do we have a problem here?” Naari asked, stepping closer.

“Look at you with your babysitter,” Cresta sneered at Kiva, ignoring the guard other than for a slight tightening of her fingers around the pickaxe she held. “How’s it feel, working in your castle while the rest of us slave away here?”

On the one hand, Kiva couldn’t believe Cresta had the audacity to not only snub Naari, but to continue antagonizing Kiva with the guardright there. On the other hand, this was Cresta, and she’d always done whatever she wanted and somehow survived the aftermath.

“I’d hardly call the infirmary a castle,” Kiva returned in an apathetic tone, “but I guess it’s all about perspective.” With clear deliberation, she turned her back and began to walk away, saying to Naari over her shoulder, “I’m done here. Let’s go.”

“That’s right, healer whore, run away like you always do,” Cresta called after her. “Better rustle up some courage before your second Trial. You’re gonna need it!”

Kiva ignored Cresta’s cackle, certain that if she looked over her shoulder, she would see the warning in the young woman’s eyes. Despite her feigned scorn, Cresta was well aware that Tilda’s survival was tied to Kiva’s success.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Naari asked once they were far enough away.

“Want to tell me why you didn’t punish her?” Kiva replied.

Naari was slow to respond, but eventually said, “Did you want me to?”

Kiva sighed, and hoisted her bag of samples higher onto her shoulder. “No. Never mind.”

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