The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(119)
“Well . . .” Kiva bit her lip, not even sure how to ask.
“The answer is yes, Kiva.”
She shuffled the two of them around a large slab of limestone in the path before saying, “What answer?”
“I assume you’re trying to ask me about Tipp,” Jaren guessed, correctly. “There’s no way I’m letting him stay in here. Once you’re free, he’s free. I’ll make it happen.”
Tears filled Kiva’s eyes, and she didn’t try to hide them when Jaren turned to look at her.
“Thank you,” she said, with obvious feeling. While she’d already spoken with the Warden about becoming Tipp’s guardian if she survived the Trials, after all she’d since learned about Rooke, she feared he might renege on their deal just to spite her. Now, at least, she had the backing of the crown prince. Tipp would finally be free.
Jaren sent her a soft smile in return, before his face turned serious. “I don’t know if you have anyone out there waiting for you. Either of you. But I was thinking—I mean, I was hoping—” He stopped and tried again. “If you want to, I would really love to show you Vallenia. Both you and Tipp.”
For the second time in the space of minutes, Kiva nearly crumpled.
Stay alive.
Don’t let her die.
We are coming.
“You want us to come with you?” she choked out. “Back to the capital?”
“We’d have to stop at the winter palace first,” Jaren said, “just for a fortnight or so, until the spring thaws set in and make travel easier. But then, yes. Back to the city.”
“And we’d live with you, at the castle?”
Jaren nodded. “I was thinking you might want to take a class or two at the academy, continue honing your craft.”
The healer academy. Kiva couldn’t believe what Jaren was offering, the golden plate he was holding before her.
“And Tipp’s around the same age as Oriel,” he continued. “My brother can be a little terror, but he has a good heart. I think they’d get on really well. Plus, Ori would help Tipp with his studies, which I’m guessing might need some catching up.”
More tears filled Kiva’s eyes at the dream he was laying out. At the possibilities she could see so clearly in her mind’s eye.
But . . . her family . . .
We are coming.
They hadn’t come for her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t go to them. Her brother had written her, told her where they were. His implication had been clear: they were waiting.
For ten years, she’d longed to be with them again. But now that she might finally be free to do so . . .
Kiva didn’t know what she wanted anymore. She couldn’t deny that they’d hurt her, disappointed her, for a decade. They’d promised to come, but they hadn’t, not even after her father had died. She’d been alone, left to fend for herself, to survive more horrors than they would ever know.
And yet . . . they were still her family.
She loved them.
Just as she knew they loved her.
“Don’t answer now,” Jaren said quickly, cutting into her thoughts. “Just— Just think about it, all right?”
Kiva could only nod. And then when Jaren indicated for her to turn right, she did so, helping him hobble down the long, dark tunnel, having no idea where it would end, but certain that whatever was around the corner would change her life forever.
* * *
Kiva had been right about the coming change.
But not in the way she’d anticipated.
It was Jaren who realized much sooner than she did; Jaren who noticed that there were no workers in the tunnels, no prisoners digging away to extend them, to find more water.
The labyrinth was empty.
And when his earth magic finally guided them to the ladder chute and they painstakingly climbed to the surface, it became clear that Kiva’s success over the Trials was to be put on hold.
There was no one waiting for them.
No Rooke, no Naari, no guards at all.
Only screams.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It took Kiva mere seconds to realize what had begun while she and Jaren had been traversing the underground maze.
It wasn’t just the screams that gave it away. It was the sounds of steel on steel, the whistles of quarrels and arrows, the baying of the hounds . . . and the blood.
The grounds of Zalindov were already stained with it.
It was so much worse than any riot Kiva had witnessed before. Even from within the domed building that covered the entrance to the tunnels, she could see masses of prisoners fighting against the armed guards, hammers and chisels and pickaxes against swords and shields and bows. Everywhere she looked, people were wrestling, bodies littering the ground, some writhing in pain, others still and silent. None cried out louder than those fending off the dogs, whose sharp canine teeth shredded flesh and snapped bones.
All of this Kiva took in within the space of a breath, panic overwhelming her mind before adrenaline cleared it. She looked at Jaren and gasped, “Tipp— Tilda— I have to—”
“Go!” he finished for her, urging her forward. “I’ll catch up!”
She was already running as he called, “Be careful!” after her. He would follow as fast as his injured body allowed, but it might not be fast enough. She needed to get to the infirmary, to Tipp, to Tilda, and make sure they were safe. She would barricade the door, lock them in the quarantine room if she had to, whatever it took to protect them. Olisha and Nergal would look after themselves—they’d probably already left to find a hiding place—but Tipp and Tilda . . . Kiva needed to hurry, hurry, hurry.