Page 90 of The Prison Healer

Kiva’s brows rose. “Excuse me?”

Cresta came to a stop in front of Kiva, pointing a finger straight at her face. Naari edged closer, but didn’t interfere.

“My friends are sick and dying,” Cresta said, moving her finger back toward the infirmary. “And you’re out here doing—what? What’re you doing, healer? ’Cause you damn well aren’t making them any better.”

At first, Kiva was relieved, having feared Cresta had approached to remind her that Tilda needed to stay alive, and Tipp’s life would be forfeited if Kiva failed tomorrow’s task. Never mind thatKiva’slife would also be forfeited. They were all linked now; Cresta had no need to continue threatening her. But then Kiva processed what the irate woman had said, and a heavy feeling hit her stomach. This wasn’t about protecting the Rebel Queen at all. This was about something beyond one person, beyond any of them, rebels included.

“Cresta ...”

“Don’t you ‘Cresta’ me,” the young woman spat, her expression so livid that her serpent tattoo looked like it would rise out of her face and strike at Kiva. “You want to know what just happened? Tykon dropped like a slab of luminium halfway to the quarry, couldn’t get up again. Shaking, puking everywhere. Harlow let me drag him back, but only so he could follow and stare at my ass the whole way, the perverted fu—”

“Where’s Tykon now?” Kiva interrupted, cringing at the thought of the repugnant quarry master.

Cresta pointed toward the infirmary again. “He’s whereyoushould be. But you’renot. Because you’rehere.” She slammed her finger toward the earth, silently demanding an answer.

“I’m ... working to fix it,” Kiva said cautiously.

“To fixwhat?” Cresta shoved her matted red hair over her shoulder. “This stomach virus?”

“Yes,” Kiva said, not offering any more, and wondering when Naari was going to step in and stop this.

Cresta’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”

Kiva raised her hands. “I’m not. Why do you think I was at the quarry? I was collecting samples for testing, just like I am today.” She patted the bag on her shoulder.

“That was over afortnightago,” Cresta exclaimed. “More and more people are dying every day. Hell, everyone who comes to see you for the smallest thing ends up getting sick—explainthat,healer! Are you telling me you’re still trying to figure outwhy? ”

Kiva didn’t have a response, unsure what she was allowed to say, especially to someone as volatile as Cresta. If the rebel leader used this to stir up more dissent among the prisoners, if she tried to create a panic ... Things were already brewing too close to the surface, with whispers circulating about what had happened nine years earlier, the same spreading sickness, the same mass deaths. The murmurs were growing, the fears deepening. If something didn’t calm the inmates soon ...

“I think you should be getting back to the quarry now,” Naari said, clearly thinking along the same lines. “Where’s Harlow?”

“Where do you think?” Cresta asked, one hand on her hip. “He’s in the kitchens, stealing from our rations. Like you lot don’t get enough of our food as it is.” Her face darkened. “He’s probably getting handsy with the workers there at the same time, so trust me, he’ll be in no rush to leave.”

Naari’s expression tightened, her eyes blazing as she turned to Kiva. “I’ll meet you at the tunnel entrance. Don’t go down without me.” To Cresta, Naari said, “Come with me.”

And without another word, she strode off in the direction of the kitchens, not waiting to see if Cresta would obey.

“If she weren’t a guard, I think I’d like her,” the angry woman mused. But then she remembered who she was standing with, and she sneered at Kiva. “Fix this, healer whore. Before we all die. Our blood is on your hands.”

With that parting line, she turned and began marching away.

“Wait!” Kiva called.

Cresta paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “What?”

Aware that she had mere seconds before Naari became suspicious of the delay, Kiva closed the distance between them and whispered, “Have you heard anything? About Tilda? About another rescue attempt?”

Cresta’s features were like granite as she forced out a single word. “No.”

Kiva’s shoulders slumped, even if she’d already assumed as much. “What does that mean?”

“It means we wait,” Cresta said. “And you do what you’re supposed to—keep her alive until the time comes.”

With a sharp, warning look, Cresta took off again, leaving Kiva alone.

“That’s easier said than done,” she muttered to herself. Not only did she have to survive tomorrow’s Trial, she also had to keep both herself and Tilda from catching the stomach illness—without knowing how it spread to begin with—and if she somehow managed those, she then would have to face yetanotherOrdeal in a fortnight.

Kiva sighed and rubbed her temples. As far as confrontations with Cresta went, that one hadn’t been so bad. She felt a niggling of concern in the pit of her stomach, wondering what the rebel leader might do with the information she’d learned about the sickness, limited as it had been. Anyone else, and Kiva wouldn’t have been so worried. But Cresta ... she was a wildcard. It was possible that she would do nothing, keeping her head down and focusing her energy on what was happening with the rebels both inside and outside the walls.Orshe could use what she’d heard to add to the fear spreading among the prisoners, creating a dangerous environment where everyone was even more on edge, guards included.

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