Page 63 of The Prison Healer

Kiva continued smiling as the story played out in her mind. “That was when the thief turned around and lowered her hood, and Papa saw her properly for the first time.” Her smile widened. “He said it was love at first sight—at least on his part. I never got to ask Mama what she thought.” A lump rose in Kiva’s throat, and she held Tilda’s hand tighter, as if doing so could ease the pain inside her.

In a husky voice, Kiva went on, “Papa was so love-struck that he stood there gaping like a fool, and Mama was smart enough to take advantage. She’d been living in Vallenia for a couple of years at that point, having run away from her family in Lamont after—” Kiva halted when she realized she was getting off track, and started again. “She’d been in the capital for long enough to know those streets well, so it was easy for her to get past my dullard father, then disappear into the crowd. Papa was devastated—not for his coin purse, but for the greater treasure he was certain he’d just let slip through his fingers.”

Kiva was smiling once again as she continued, “He searched for her, and asked everyone he could think of, but none of his reputable acquaintances knew how to find a thief. So in an act of desperation, Papa headed to the docks in the dead of night, aware that it was a hive for criminal activity, especially after dark.” She shook her head. “As an affluent young man who was clearly visiting from out of town and wandering around in a bad neighborhood, he was asking for trouble. Sure enough, he was attacked and left for dead. But luckily for him, my mother had been watching from a distance after stealing his gold, waiting for him to replenish his coin, since he’d already proved to be such an easy mark. Instead of stealing more from him, she ended up saving his life.”

Sobering, Kiva said, “I wish I could say they lived happily ever after. They did, for a time. Very happily.” Her voice turned croaky again. “But things happen in life that you don’t expect, that you can’t plan for and you’re helpless to stop. Their story didn’t end as it should have. But I know for a fact that they’d live it all over again, even the ending, as long as it meant they could keep their beginning.”

But, Papa, the endings are the best part.

Sometimes, sweetheart. But other times, the beginnings are.

Kiva released Tilda’s hand so she could use both of hers to wipe her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was hearing her father’s voice so much lately, why the memories were coming to her so often. It was both painful and soothing, like part of him was still with her, a reminder that she wasn’t alone.

“So,” Kiva said in an overbright tone, standing to her feet. “That’s how my mother and father met.” Looking down at the ill woman, she went on, “I hope that wherever your mind is right now, you can hear me. I hope that you dream about that story and the love they shared, and I hope it reminds you that there are so many reasons for you to fight whatever ails you, but the biggest one is that there are people out here who loveyouand need you to wake up. People who you love in return. So if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for them.” Kiva leaned in closer and whispered into her ear, “Fight, Tilda. You’re stronger than this. And they’re coming for you.”

Then she straightened and walked back over to her workbench to clean up the mess she and Mot had made, ready to dose the rats with the elixir and begin mentally preparing for the next day. Her father’s story had done what she’d needed—brought peace to her soul. And her words to Tilda were just as much to herself.

Even if the rebels didn’t arrive in time to free them before the Ordeal, Kiva was going to fight, and keep fighting, because there were people in here who needed her. And there were people beyond Zalindov’s walls who she was determined to see again.

Her family was waiting for her. They werecomingfor her. She knew it, like she knew her own name. One day they would be together again.

She refused to allow her story to end before that day came.

Chapter Nineteen

After sharing her father’s tale with Tilda, Kiva ventured out to the medicinal garden, a place where she always felt closest to him. Olisha and Nergal had arrived early for their shift, so she knew there was someone watching over the sick woman, ready to call out at the first sign of trouble. But Kiva felt confident that Tilda was stable again, at least for the moment.

Walking along the gravel path, Kiva ran her fingers through the gabbergrass that rose taller than she did, obscuring much of the trail ahead. The long green shoots were technically weeds, but the stems could be milked and used to soothe earaches, and Kiva liked the privacy they afforded, the illusion that this was a little slice of paradise tucked away in the middle of the prison, just for her.

This can be our place, little mouse, her father had told her.Whenever we need to get away from it all, we can come here. Our very own sanctuary.

Kiva closed her eyes as his voice washed over her, her fingers still weaving through the grass. She only opened them again when she came to a bend in the path, following it around in a loop. To her right were the flower beds—marigold, calendula, lavender, and poppy flowers, alongside the snowblossoms and buttercress. Opposite them were the berries, then the sprouts, then the herbs, then the nettles ... and on it went, the garden organized into sections by the types of plants, and also by their medicinal qualities, with the most dangerous specimens at the furthest end of the looping path, in their own separate bed to lessen the risk of accidental spreading.

Glancing around, Kiva recalled the first time she’d set foot in the garden, her father having led her by the hand along the path at sunset.

It’s our secret,he’d told her with a wink.As long as I’m the prison healer, you can sneak back here anytime you want.

But what about the guards, Papa?

We’ll make it a game,Faran had replied.Hide-and-seek, just like you used to play with Zulee and Tor and—He’d broken off then, before mentioning Kerrin’s name. Never mentioning Kerrin’s name.

Kiva swallowed as the memory came to her.

Her father, the prison healer.

It was only logical that he’d been allocated the position upon arriving at Zalindov. He’d been sent straight to the infirmary on his first day, working under the head medic, a bitter woman named Thessa. Faran was much more qualified, but Thessa had been in charge for years, and refused to listen to him, let alone learn from him—or yield to him.

Kiva hadn’t thought about Thessa in a long time. As she knelt down to pluck some thistles choking the bed of goldenroot, she cast her mind back to those early days filled with fear and sadness, but also holding moments of joy, like when her father had brought her into this garden for the first time.

Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never lose hope, he’d whispered to her in this very spot, kneeling before the goldenroot.Your brother and sister, your mother—his voice had cracked then—they will come for you, one day.

Don’t you meanus, Papa? They’ll come forus?

Faran had reached out and brushed his fingers along her cheekbone.Of course, sweetheart. That’s what I meant.

Only a few short weeks after that, Thessa had died from a stomach sickness, and Faran had stepped into her position as the head medic, leaving Kiva alone much of the time, especially when his hours were soon taken up by—

Kiva’s body froze, her fingers spasming in the soil.

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