Page 43 of The Prison Healer

“Can I ... Is there anything I can get you?” Jaren asked quietly.

Recalling his strong aversion to pain-relieving drugs, Kiva shook her head, deciding to wait until he left before she took another dose of poppymilk. That, and she didn’t want to risk muddying her wits while in his presence.

“I’m fine,” Kiva said. “Now answer me—why are you here?”

Jaren uttered a disbelieving sound. “Why do you think?” He jabbed a finger toward her and said, with clear accusation, “You nearlydiedtoday, Kiva.”

“So what?”

The two words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.

“‘So what?’” he repeated, incredulous. “‘So what?’ Are you kidding me?”

She said nothing, startled by his fierce reaction.

“Did youwantto die?” he demanded. “Was that your plan?”

Kiva jerked backwards. “Of course not.” She was vaguely aware of the door to the quarantine room opening and closing, but she didn’t take her eyes from Jaren.

“Then why, Kiva?Whywould you sacrifice yourself like that? Why risk your life for some woman you don’t even know?” He pointed sharply toward the closed privacy curtain around Tilda’s bed. “Why give up everything for her?”

“Why do you care, Jaren?” Kiva shot back at him. “You don’t know me well enough to be this upset.”

“No, butId-do!”

Kiva ignored Jaren’s hurt face and turned to find Tipp standing at the quarantine door. At the sight of tears in his eyes, she instantly deflated.

“Tipp ...”

“Why d-did you do it, Kiva?” he asked in a trembling voice, his freckles stark against his pale face. “You told me no one c-can survive the Trials, that they’re a d-death sentence.”

“Tipp, come here,” Kiva said, reaching out her hand. It was shaking slightly, both from this confrontation and also from pain. Prince Deverick might have slowed Kiva’s descent enough to keep her from dying, but he hadn’t been gentle about it.

Slowly, Tipp approached, tears still pooling in his eyes as he looked at her. “Why, Kiva?” His throat bobbed. “You t-told my mother you’d protect me. You can’t do that if you’re d-dead.”

While Kiva had no intention of telling Tipp about Cresta’s threat to his life, she still wished she could have this conversation alone with the boy. Sending a quick look toward Jaren, he only folded his arms and looked steadily back at her. Naari, too, was watching from just inside the entrance to the infirmary, the guard making no attempt to hide her eavesdropping.

“You’re right, I did tell your mother that I’d look out for you,” Kiva said quietly, taking Tipp’s hand in her own. “And I plan to keep doing that, long after these Trials are over.”

When Tipp turned his face away, Kiva squeezed his fingers to get his attention back, and continued, “Hey, I mean that. I’ve already made it through one Ordeal—how hard can the other three be?” She tried to infuse confidence into her voice, hiding all traces of doubt while also taking care to conceal any hope that she might not have to face the remaining Trials at all.

Stay alive.

Don’t let her die.

We are coming.

“But what then?” Tipp asked. “You’ll b-be free, and I’ll be alone.”

Kiva couldn’t tell him the truth, nor could she tell him about her plan—not yet. Not until she’d spoken with the Warden. Even then, she would remain quiet, for fear of getting Tipp’s hopes up in vain. There was a long road ahead, and Kiva had no guarantees it would end well. For any of them.

Somewhat hoarsely, she said, “That’s not a problem for today, so there’s no point in worrying about it just yet.”

“Then let’s focus on today,” Jaren cut in. “You still haven’t told us why you did what you did.”

Kiva had to count to ten to keep from snapping that it was none of his business and requesting that he leave the infirmary. The truth was, she liked waking up to find him beside her bed. She liked that he was concerned, that he cared enough to be angry. Very few people at Zalindov gave any thought to her welfare—it was always she who was looking after others, not the other way around.

But she’d also meant what she’d said, that he didn’t know her well enough to be so upset. She didn’t understand what was happening between them and wondered if he just felt connected to her because she was the first person he’d met upon waking at Zalindov. It wouldn’t be the first time a prisoner reacted in such a way, even after she’d carved open their flesh. They perceived her as someone familiar during the uneasy transition into their new life. A comfort, almost. But their dependence usually faded after a few weeks, and Kiva rarely interacted with them again unless they had a heath concern—or they turned up dead, and she had to send them to the morgue.

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