Page 19 of The Prison Healer

“Fair point,” Jaren said with the hint of a smile. “And I guess we don’t know each other well enough for you to miss me yet.”

Another eye twitch. “There’s no need to addyetto the end of that. We’ll never know each other that well.”

Jaren’s mouth hitched up into a crooked grin. He jumped down from the bench, the move bringing him much closer to Kiva. Her instinct was to step back, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so she remained in place.

“Maybe if you—”

Whatever Jaren had been about to say was interrupted when Tipp bounded through the unguarded door and into the infirmary.

“Kiva! D-D-Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” she asked, spinning toward him.

“There’s a n-new arrival!”

“What? Now?” Kiva said, frowning. Not only was it still the dead of winter, but it was also nighttime. Never in Kiva’s ten years of imprisonment had a new inmate been delivered so late.

“Yes! And you w-won’tbelievewho they’re s-s-saying she is!”

Before Kiva could ask, Naari appeared at the entrance to the infirmary, her face tight. Close behind her came two other guards, both male, carrying a stretcher upon which was what looked like a bundle of oddly shaped rags in the vague outline of a human.

“Out of the way, boy,” one of the guards snarled at Tipp, who quickly scampered toward where Kiva and Jaren stood.

“You, healer,” the second guard barked at Kiva as they unceremoniously dragged the limp weight of the ragged-clothed human off the stretcher and onto the metal bench Jaren had vacated. “You have a week before she’s to face her first Trial. We want a good show, so do what you can to fix her before then.”

And then the two male guards took off into the night, one of them giving Tipp a forceful shove as he walked by, prompting Kiva to dig her fingernails into Jaren’s forearm to keep him from lunging after the man. She shook her head firmly at him, and the stormy look on his face darkened before he let out a sigh and moved to ruffle Tipp’s hair. The young boy was nowhere near as upset as Jaren—a shove was the least of what the guard could have done, and Tipp knew it.

Leaping into action, Kiva approached the unconscious woman, listening in as Jaren asked, “What did he mean about a Trial?”

To Kiva’s surprise, it was Naari who answered, having remained behind when her fellow guards departed. “This woman has been sentenced to undertake the Trial by Ordeal.”

Kiva, who had been reaching for the rags obscuring the new arrival’s face, froze and spun back to look at the guard. Jaren, too, was staring at Naari with incredulity, though there was also something else in his expression, something Kiva didn’t know him well enough to read.

Noting their reactions, Tipp asked, “What’s a T-T-Trial by Ordeal?”

No one spoke.

“Guys? What’s g-going on?” Tipp demanded. “What’s this T-Trial thing?”

Kiva slowly turned from Naari to the young boy and said, “The Trial by Ordeal is only ever sentenced to the most dangerous of criminals. The last time it happened was something like twenty years ago.”

“Thirty,” Jaren said, his features tense as he looked toward the unconscious woman that Kiva remained frozen above.

“B-But whatisit?” Tipp asked.

“Four elemental tasks—called Ordeals—to determine a person’s guilt: Trial by Air, Trial by Fire, Trial by Water, Trial by Earth,” Jaren answered, as if reading from an archive. “If the person survives, they’re deemed innocent.”

If Kiva hadn’t been so shocked by the woman’s sentence, she might have questioned the origin of Jaren’s knowledge. She herself had heard whispers throughout her years at Zalindov, legends of prisoners who had received the unforgiving sentence. But she’d known nothing of the Trials prior to her arrival.

“Elemental t-tasks?” Tipp’s forehead was bunched. “But only the r-royal family has elemental m-magic these days.”

“The tasks might be inspired by magic of old,” Jaren continued sharing, “but it’s said that if a person is truly innocent, they’ll be able to make it through the four Ordeals without needing any kind of power.”

“So ... if this woman d-does these Trials, she’ll be able t-to leave Zalindov? Free?” Tipp asked, looking awed by the thought, as if he wished it for his own future.

“No one has ever survived the full Trial by Ordeal, Tipp,” Kiva broke in softly. “One or two of the tasks, maybe. Just enough to lull them into a false sense of security. But never all four.” She whispered to finish, “It’s a death sentence.”

Jaren nodded grimly in agreement.

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