The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(117)

Kiva wasn’t about to admit what she’d been thinking, so she thought quickly and said, “I just realized I don’t know what to call you. Jaren? Deverick? I’m unsure of the protocol here.”

This time, it was Jaren who wrinkled his nose. “I hate the name Deverick. I always have. My middle name is Jaren—that’s what my friends and family call me.” Pointedly, he said, “That’s what you call me, too.”

“Not Prince Jaren?” Kiva asked.

“No, just Jaren.”

“What about Your Highness?”

He pulled a face. “Definitely not.”

“Your Grace?”

“I’m not a duke.”

“Your Excellency?”

“Nor a lord.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Please stop.”

Kiva couldn’t believe she was holding back a laugh, after everything they’d just been through. But the look on his face . . .

“Fine, I’ll stop,” she agreed. “But only because I wouldn’t want you to throw me in prison.” She tapped a finger to her lip. “Oh, wait.”

“You’re hilarious,” Jaren deadpanned, but there was a renewed light in his eyes, and seeing it eased something within her. “For the record, I’ve never sent anyone to prison. And after being here myself . . .” He shuddered. “I never intend to. At least, not until this place has undergone some considerable restructuring. Things have to change.” In a quiet voice, as if making a promise to himself, he said, “Things will change.”

Kiva wanted to believe him. She really did. But he wouldn’t be able to follow through on any of his good intentions from the middle of the tunnel labyrinth.

“How about you start refining your prison takeover after we find a way out of here,” she said.

“Right,” Jaren agreed. “That’s what I was about to tell you—why Rooke made a mistake.”

“I’m listening,” Kiva said. She noticed that Jaren was beginning to sway again, so she made a decision, sliding up beside him and carefully wrapping her arm around his waist. She knew it would hurt him, but there was no way they’d be getting out of the tunnels at all if she didn’t help him walk.

“I hope it goes without saying that most of what I’ve told you today has to remain a secret,” Jaren said.

“I figured,” Kiva said, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

Jaren paused for a long moment, as if deliberating what he was about to share. Finally, he said, “I broke your trust, so hopefully this will give you a reason to believe in me again. It’s something only a handful of people in the world know.”

Kiva’s ears pricked up, and she glanced at his face as he wrapped his arm more securely around her shoulders.

“Mirryn is a year older than me,” he said. “She should have been the heir, the crown princess, but then I came along.”

“Firstborn son gets the rights,” Kiva muttered. “Typical.”

“Actually, it’s not,” Jaren said. “Our ancestor, Queen Sarana, she ruled alone—after King Torvin left, I mean. Later in life, Sarana had a daughter, who went on to rule when she died. Then that daughter had a daughter, who had a daughter, and so it went, all down the line. A few princes rose to be kings if they happened to be the eldest siblings, but for the most part, Vallentis mothers tend to bear daughters as their firstborns.”

Kiva’s forehead crinkled. “Then why . . .”

“This is the part few people outside of my family know,” Jaren said, his tone serious enough for Kiva to realize how much he was trusting her right now. When she held his gaze, offering her own silent promise in return, he looked away from her, sending his floating fire ahead, where it stopped at a three-pronged fork in the tunnel, lighting it up.

A hollow feeling hit Kiva as she suddenly understood just how dire their situation was. This was the Trial by Earth—they’d been dropped deep beneath Zalindov prison, in the labyrinth of a tunnel system. It extended for miles in every direction, an unending maze that not even the guards could fully navigate. Some passages turned into dead ends, others were submerged and headed to the aquifer, and still more continued on seemingly forever. Without Jaren’s fire, they’d be blind down here. Perhaps that was what Rooke was counting on, his assumption that they’d be unable to see anything, left to feel their way through the darkness until dehydration, exhaustion, and starvation killed them.

No wonder the Warden had been so gleeful with his parting remark. What a hideous way to die.

But, while Jaren’s flames at least gave them light to see by, it didn’t help them get out of the tunnels. They were still lost; they still had no means to escape.

Perspiration began to bead on Kiva’s brow as a sudden, intense feeling of claustrophobia took hold of her. It wasn’t uncommon for tunnel sections to cave in, killing scores of prisoners in an instant. Something like that could just as easily happen to her and Jaren.

“Kiva?” came Jaren’s voice, his arm squeezing her shoulder.

She blinked and looked up at him again, seeing the concern on his face and realizing that he’d been talking to her for some time.

“Sorry, what?” she asked, and even she could hear the fear threading her tone.