Page 14 of The Prison Healer

At his horror-struck expression, Kiva took pity on him. “You’ll get used to it. There are three stories per cell block, so it’s really only a hundred per floor. And, honestly, in a day or two, you’ll be too tired to care, anyway.” Assuming he survived that long.

Jaren pulled a face. “Is that meant to make me feel better?”

This time Kivadidlook to Naari, since this was another perfect example of why she shouldn’t be doing orientation. The guard didn’t even try to hide her amusement.

Turning back to Jaren, Kiva attempted to rally some kind of encouragement. “There’s nothing I can tell you that will prepare you for what you’re about to experience. I’m sorry, that’s just the reality of Zalindov. This place will test you to your limits, and beyond. But it’s not impossible to survive it. I’m living proof of that.”

Jaren’s eyes held hers as he quietly asked, “What’s your secret? To surviving, I mean?”

She considered her words carefully before answering, “It helps if you have something to live for. To fight for. It grounds you, gives you a reason to get up every morning. It gives you a reason to want to survive. And sometimes, it’s the wanting that makes all the difference. Because once you give up in here”—she pointed to her heart—“then you’re already as good as dead.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What’s your something? What are you living for?”

Kiva arched a brow. “Thatis none of your business.” She started walking forward again. “Let’s get you to your cell block. A few hours’ sleep and you’ll wake up feeling much better.”

Dryly, Jaren said, “Forgive me if I have some doubts.”

Kiva was well aware that his bruised and battered muscles would stiffen up during sleep, likely leaving him feeling miserable come morning. But proper rest would still aid his recovery, nonetheless.

“This way,” was all she said, leading him onward.

Jaren and Naari trailed silently behind her for a time, three pairs of footsteps crunching as they moved across dirt and then onto gravel again, their breaths fogging the air as the temperature dropped swiftly. While snow was common in the mountains surrounding Zalindov, it rarely fell as low as the prison. Even so, the cold was relentlessly bitter, with ice often coating the grounds. The worst days would come after the solstice, which was due in just over a week. Kiva was already bracing for all the weather-related ailments she would have to treat before the arrival of spring.

They were close to reaching their destination when Jaren pointed to the northeast wall and said, “You didn’t say what’s in that direction.”

Naari cleared her throat loudly, and Kiva wondered if that meant she wasn’t supposed to answer. But the guard did nothing more, so Kiva said, “That’s where the Abyss is.”

“The Abyss?”

“Zalindov’s punishment block.”

Kiva could hear the incredulity in Jaren’s voice when he said, “So, on top of working us to death, there’smorepunishment?”

Jaren didn’t know the half of it, and Kivareallydidn’t want to be the one to tell him. But he needed to be warned, so she reached for his sleeve and tugged him to a halt, squinting in the low light to catch his eyes. While the watchtowers had roaming luminium beacons that the guards could pinpoint toward any location of their choosing, the grounds of Zalindov were otherwise pitch-black once night fell in full—and it was very close to that, with them having wasted the last of the light walking from the tunnels.

“No one knows what happens in the Abyss,” Kiva told Jaren in a serious voice. “Just that it’s bad. The guards stationed there are known for their ... creativity.” She let that sink in. “Most prisoners don’t come out again, and those who do are changed forever. So if you value your life, do whatever it takes to avoid being sent there, understood?”

Jaren, thankfully, didn’t question or argue. “Understood.”

Kiva looked to Naari, and, with as much respect as she could muster, asked, “Which block is he allocated to?”

“Seven. Second floor.”

Kiva gritted her teeth and headed that way. Ofcoursehe was assigned to the same cell block as she. At least they were on different floors, with him being a level above her.

Only when they finally reached the long rectangular building that now housed them both—and three hundred others—did Kiva stop in front of the large entrance doors.

“Head inside and take the stairs to your left, then claim a pallet up on the second floor,” she told Jaren. “Bathing chambers and latrines are at the far end of the ground floor. The water in the shower block isn’t heated, so move fast, and don’t get your clothes wet or you’ll catch a chill.” She made herself meet his eyes as she added, “There’s no gender separation for sleeping or bathing, so there’s an unspoken rule about respect. The guards don’t enforce it, but life here is hard enough without constantly worrying about when you’ll next be assaulted, so prisoners try to look out for each other.”

Jaren’s brows pulled together. “That doesn’t seem foolproof.”

“It’s not,” Kiva confirmed. “But it’s rarely the prisoners you have to watch out for. As I said earlier—everyone’s too tired to cause problems like that.”

Noting her wording, Jaren asked, “What about the guards?”

Kiva looked away, her forearm throbbing in reminder. “They’re not as tired.”

When she turned back to Jaren, his jaw was clenched. “Have they ever— Have you ever—”

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