The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(105)

Was Kiva still to face the final Ordeal, the Trial by Earth? Would they just forget about it and keep her locked up in isolation forever? If so, what would that mean for Tilda? Would she be allowed to live as a prisoner, should she survive her illness? Would she be killed? Had she already been killed? It wasn’t just the sickness or the guards who were a threat to her—the other prisoners were, too. Kiva had heard them whispering, the anti-rebels plotting her demise: . . . snuff out that so-called queen in her sleep . . .

Kiva hadn’t lingered on the threats, knowing Tilda had been safe while in her care. But being locked away . . . Anything could have happened in the time she’d been gone.

And what about Kiva’s family? Had Cresta sent word to the rebels that Kiva was in the Abyss? That Tilda’s life was at risk if Kiva didn’t make it out again? Did her family know about her suffering in the dark? Did they care?

Don’t let her die.

We are coming.

They had failed to keep their promise, and Kiva was no longer sure if she could keep hers—to Tilda, and to herself.

Her family’s coded notes had given her the strength to stay alive, the knowledge that they were still out there, the hope that she would one day join them. But now Kiva feared that would never happen, that she wouldn’t live to see outside of Zalindov’s walls.

Outside of this cell.

Outside of this darkness.

Another crack in the doorway had Kiva leaning toward it once again. It felt like only minutes since her food had been delivered, and she wondered if perhaps she was starting to go mad, since time was becoming so distorted. Had she eaten the meal? She couldn’t remember the taste of it, couldn’t even remember reaching for it. But Kiva didn’t let that trouble her, instead turning full-bodied to the light, basking in the momentary comfort it offered, knowing it would be gone again in seconds.

Only, it wasn’t.

“Thank the everworld, you’re alive.”

Kiva was sure she must be dreaming, that the bobbing luminium beacon entering the cell and lighting up the space must be a hallucination, along with the person who held it.

“Naari?” Kiva rasped. Or she tried to. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d spoken, and the word struggled to leave her lips.

The stone door closed to within an inch of sealing, leaving only the slightest of cracks, but the light remained. Kiva blinked furiously, her eyes fighting to adjust after having seen nothing but darkness for so long.

“We only have a few minutes,” the guard said, sliding down to sit in the cramped space. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

Kiva reached out to touch her, still not believing she was really there, but when her fingers met solid flesh, a relieved whimper escaped her lips.

“You’re real,” Kiva whispered. “You’re real.”

“Are you hurt?” Naari asked. “Have they done anything to you?”

Kiva’s mind was foggy, her disbelief still so strong. But Naari was before her, someone who could answer her questions, so she pulled herself together.

“Is Jaren—have you seen him? Is he all right?” Kiva asked, instead of answering.

“He’s . . . healing,” Naari said.

“Healing?” Kiva’s heart rate accelerated. “What did they do to him?”

The luminium beacon revealed Naari’s puzzlement. “He said you were there. That they made you watch.”

“I saw the Butcher whipping him, but that was weeks ago. Longer. When we first arrived,” Kiva said, swallowing back the memories. “Have they— Have they hurt him again? Is someone treating his wounds?”

She hated the idea that he was being punished over and over, all because he’d saved her life.

“Weeks?” Naari repeated, sounding even more confused. But then she looked around the small, dark cell, seeing that the only light source was what she’d brought with her, and her face cleared with understanding. And then flooded with pity. Her tone was careful, wary, even concerned as she said, “Kiva, you’ve only been in here for six days.”

All the air rushed out of Kiva. “Six—”

Six days.

She’d only been locked away for six days?

It had felt like a lifetime.

Two lifetimes.

How could so little time have passed?

“He’s doing better every day,” Naari said quickly, and if she saw the hopeless tears that glistened in Kiva’s eyes, she didn’t bring attention to them. “I’ve only been able to sneak in to see him twice—they’re watching him almost as closely as you. But I cleaned and dressed his wounds, just as I’ve seen you do before. There’s no sign of infection, but Tipp gave me some alderflower petals to make him chew on, just in case. Said they would work with the ballico sap to help keep his blood clean.”

“Good,” Kiva replied in an unfamiliar, choked voice. “That’s good.”

Six days.

She couldn’t believe it.

But still, she made herself get a grip, recalling what Naari had said about only having a few minutes, and tried to prioritize what she needed to know.

“Is Tipp all right?” she asked, despite the guard having just mentioned him.

“He’s fine,” Naari assured her. “He’s worried about you, but I’ve been looking out for him.”