Page 71 of The Prison Healer

“More like continuing on to the next sketch,” Kiva said.

“Which you’ll do after you pass today’s Ordeal,” Jaren said, his voice full of confidence.

Kiva swallowed, holding his steady gaze. “Right.”

“It’s nearly time,” came Naari’s voice as she strode into the infirmary.

All the breath left Kiva, first because she wasn’t ready, and second because Jaren wasn’t supposed to be there during work hours.

For one mad second, she wondered how she could hide him, before sanity took hold and she realized it was too late, since Naari was already looking straight at him.

“The other prisoners are being assembled,” the guard told him. “You need to hurry and join the rest of the tunnelers before anyone realizes you’re not with them.”

Jaren gave her a quick nod, before turning back to the dumbstruck Kiva. “See you afterward.”

No biddings of good fortune or luck, and certainly no farewell; only an encouragement that they would see each other again, something that wouldn’t happen if she failed the Trial.

Because she’d be dead.

Kiva was confused. Jaren hadn’t held back in berating her after she’d volunteered to take on Tilda’s sentence, but today he seemed to have complete conviction in her ability to succeed. His turnaround surprised her almost as much as Naari being unconcerned about finding him somewhere he shouldn’t be. AndthatKiva couldn’t begin to understand.

Just as Jaren reached the doorway to the infirmary and nearly disappeared through it, Kiva called out his name, prompting him to pause and look back over his shoulder at her.

“I’ve sent Tipp to help Mot in the morgue today, since I want him to stay busy and not have time to think about ... anything,” Kiva said. “Can you— Will you—” She broke off, swallowed, tried again. “Just ... look after him, please?”

Jaren’s face softened. “I’ll keep an eye on him during the Trial, but after that, you’ll keep looking after him yourself. Just like you promised.”

He then vanished into the grounds, his words lingering in the air between them and inciting hope within her, while simultaneously adding to her dread. If the rebels didn’t come—if she didn’t make it through the Ordeal—

“Any idea of what to expect today?” Naari asked, interrupting Kiva’s near-to-spiraling thoughts.

“A few,” Kiva replied, “but I’ve been mostly trying not to think about it.”

“Probably for the best,” the guard said.

Kiva had avoided walking anywhere near the gallows over the last few days, wanting to keep from discovering whether construction had begun on a wooden pyre. While she still prayed for a rescue, if onedidn’tcome in time, then she could only hope that her Trial by Fire would require something much less confronting than being burned alive. However, she couldn’t shake her feeling that the Ordeal would be dramatic. Even though the royals weren’t attending this time, the rest of Zalindov’s population would again be standing as witnesses, so the Warden and other overseers must still be intending to make a spectacle of it.

“Is there anything you need to do before we leave?” Naari asked. “We have a few minutes.”

Kiva took a moment to consider. There was none of Mot’s waxy mixture left, so she couldn’t slather any more onto her skin. She’d already looked in on the quarantined patients—and sent two more bodies to the morgue. She’d also checked Tilda’s vitals, confident the woman’s health was stable enough that she wouldn’t slip into a convulsion while the Ordeal was underway.

“Nothing I can think of,” Kiva finally answered Naari. She didn’t want to leave until they had to, so she stalled by saying, “But I do have a question for you.”

Naari looked at her, waiting.

Kiva remembered a time when she wouldn’t have dared ask the guardanything. And here she was, deliberately prolonging a conversation, if only to delay her own impending doom. For all she knew, her family and the rebels just needed a little more time. If they really had already tried to infiltrate Zalindov, surely they would do so again. Perhaps they were outside the walls this very moment, waiting to strike, ready to flee with both Kiva and Tilda in tow.

Even as she thought it, Kiva’s spirits dimmed.

Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never lose hope,her father had said to her in the garden.Your brother and sister, your mother,they will come for you, one day.

Maybe they would. Maybe theyhad.

And maybe that was it.

Over.

Done.

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