Page 8 of The Prison Healer

“Don’t w-w-worry,” Tipp said, barely reaching the young man’s chest but still taking on a good amount of his weight. “We’ve g-got you.”

Kiva, meanwhile, was just trying to get ahold of him without stabbing him with her needle. She’d already done enough damage to his flesh today.

“Sorry,” the man said, his voice thinner than a moment ago. “I don’t—I don’t feel so great.” And then he groaned softly.

“Tipp,” Kiva barked, his name a command.

The boy knew what the groan meant as well as Kiva, and he rushed away, causing her to grunt quietly as she took the young man’s full weight. She managed to drag him the few remaining steps to the metal bench and forced him to sit just in time for Tipp to run back with an empty pail in his hands. Kiva shoved it into place just as the man groaned again, leaned forward, and vomited.

“That was c-close,” Tipp said with a grin.

Kiva didn’t reply. She just tightened her grip on the pail as the man continued retching.

She wasn’t surprised. Head injuries were notorious for prompting nausea. Until she could treat his wound and get some poppymilk into him, he was going to feel awful. If only he could have remained unconscious for a few more minutes, then at least he wouldn’t have to suffer through the last of her ministrations.

When finally it seemed like there was nothing left in him, Kiva helped him lie back down, handing the pail to Tipp, who was quick to disappear out the door with it.

“I’m sorry,” the young man said, his voice even weaker than before, his face now alarmingly pale.

“Stop apologizing,” Kiva told him, before checking herself. He could apologize or not, that was his prerogative. What he said and did was none of her business.

Kiva spared a glance at Naari, finding the guard halfway between the door and the man, as if she didn’t know whether he was a threat or not. Given that he couldn’t even sit upright at the moment, Kiva wasn’t concerned, and the look she sent Naari communicated as much. The guard didn’t back away, but her shoulders lost some of their tension.

“I’ll be quick with this, then give you something for the pain,” Kiva said. “After that, you can get out of here.”

Swiftly cleaning the wound again—and grateful that the young man kept his eyes closed as she did so—Kiva hovered over him, inspecting the cut, considering how best to stitch it. When Tipp returned with the newly cleaned pail, she quietly instructed him to fetch some fresh clothes and watched him run off again.

Aware that no matter how she closed the wound, it was going to sting, Kiva said, “Try to stay still. This’ll hurt a little.”

The man’s eyes shot open, blue-gold meeting Kiva’s green, causing her to suck in a swift breath. Seconds ... minutes ... she wasn’t sure how long had passed until she finally tore her gaze away, focusing anew on his cut. His eyes remained on her face—she could feel him watching her as she pressed the needle into his flesh.

The slightest of winces, that was his only reaction.

Her heart, however ... It was pumping double time as she began her sutures.

In, out, around, knot.

In, out, around, knot.

In, out, around, knot.

Kiva let the familiar rhythm steady her, aware all the while that the young man was watching her. If that was what it took for him to keep from flinching, then she could deal with her own discomfort.

“Nearly done,” she told him, as she would any of her patients.

“It’s fine.” He paused, then added, “You’re very good at that. I can barely feel it.”

“She’s had p-plenty of practice,” Tipp said, reappearing at her side. Kiva gave a slight jerk, but fortunately she wasn’t in the middle of a stitch.

“Tipp, what’d I say about—”

“Sorry! Sorry!” he said. “I always forget how j-jumpy you are.”

She wasn’tjumpy;she was in the middle of adeath prison. That was more than enough of an excuse to be on edge.

“Done,” Kiva said, snipping the last stitch and smearing on the ballico sap. “Help him sit up, Tipp.”

She said the last offhandedly, hoping the boy wouldn’t comment or question whyshewasn’t helping the young man rise. In truth, normally she would. But given that her pulse hadn’t quite returned to a resting heart rate after merely locking eyes with him, she figured it was wise to keep as much professional distance between them as possible, and not have her hands on his naked flesh again anytime soon.

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