The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(37)

“Should I—uh—” Kiva made a gesture with her hands to indicate bowing.

Mirryn snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Kiva took that to mean the princess wouldn’t punish her for her lack of royal etiquette.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m here?” Mirryn said, taking the tumbler from Kiva and turning it between her fingers, as if she needed something to do with her hands.

Kiva considered the question, and slowly replied, “To be honest, I’m wondering why I’m here.”

With the poppymilk taking effect and her attention moving beyond her physical distress, she couldn’t reconcile what she remembered happening with the Trial by Air and her current state.

“I fell,” Kiva continued. “I should be dead.”

“Yes,” Mirryn answered. “You should be.”

The princess said no more, and while Kiva was bursting with questions, she held her tongue and waited. She used the silence to look around the infirmary, noting that the crown prince wasn’t with his sister. She did, however, see that the drapes were drawn around a bed in the corner—Tilda’s bed—so she made the hopeful assumption that Jaren and Tipp had returned the sick woman after the Ordeal had ended. Neither of the boys were in the room, but Captain Veris stood at the entrance to the infirmary, his alert eyes moving from the princess to Kiva and then out to the grounds. No other guards were present, royal or otherwise.

Seeing the captain, Kiva’s aching stomach tensed, the memory of the first time she’d crossed paths with him fresh in her mind. She could still remember the feel of him hoisting her into his arms, his grip unyielding as she’d fought with all her strength to be free. She could still remember how he’d been there the day her brother’s life had ended. The day her life had ended, in a different way.

Swallowing, Kiva turned back to find the princess studying her. She knew she should look away, should show some reverence, but she didn’t have it in her. Uncowed, she held Mirryn’s stare, the princess’s mask doing nothing to hide the intrigue in her blue gaze.

“You would have done it,” Mirryn finally said. “You would have died for her.”

“Technically, I would have died with her,” Kiva said. “I die, she dies, remember?”

“And you live, she lives,” the princess returned. “If you survive the next three Ordeals, you’ll be freeing the most wanted woman in the kingdom.”

“That’s a big enough if that I don’t think you need to be worrying about it right now.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mirryn returned. “It’s not your crown she’s trying to steal.”

“Have you seen her?” Kiva jerked her head toward the closed curtain. “She won’t be stealing anything anytime soon.”

Kiva knew she should be more careful, but she couldn’t bring herself to guard her words, not even as the princess’s eyes narrowed behind her mask.

Resisting the urge to backpedal and blame the poppymilk for her candor, Kiva lifted her chin and kept her gaze steady on the princess, unblinking. She wished someone else had been with her upon wakening—Tipp, Mot, Jaren. Even Naari or the Warden. Someone to whom she could ask her questions. But since only Mirryn was here, she would have to do.

“How did I survive the Trial?” Kiva asked, straight out. She was too tired and sore to talk in circles.

Mirryn placed the tumbler on the table beside Kiva’s bed, her fingers moving to fiddle with the embroidered edges of her red cloak. “You remind me of my girlfriend. She never would have let me hear the end of it if she learned that you died today. Someone with your spirit should be given a fighting chance—that’s what she would have told me.”

Kiva’s world tilted. “You saved me?”

Mirryn snorted. “Gods, no. Why would I care what happens to you?” Brushing invisible lint from her shoulder, she went on, “My idiot brother, however . . .” She rolled her eyes. “It seems even crown princes can be swayed by a pretty face. Who needs justice when attraction is clearly much more important?”

“Wait, Prince Deverick saved me?” Kiva’s mind continued spinning.

Mirryn’s pale eyebrow arched over the top of her mask. “You fell fifty feet from that tower. It’s not as if you survived on your own.”

“I— You— He—” Kiva couldn’t form a sentence. Given all she knew of the Vallentis family—how they were the very reason she was in Zalindov to begin with—she couldn’t wrap her brain around this unlikely truth. “But . . . why?”

The princess made an impatient sound. “I just told you. Aren’t you listening?” She stopped fiddling and crossed her arms. “Never mind, just be grateful that you’re alive.”

Kiva shifted in her bed, grimacing anew at the pain, and couldn’t keep from muttering, “Barely.”

“Excuse me?” Mirryn’s second brow rose to meet the first.

“I said barely,” Kiva repeated. “I feel like I’ve broken every bone in my body.”

A surprised laugh left the princess. “Is that the thanks my brother gets for saving your life?”

“He’s not here right now.”

“No, but I am,” said Mirryn, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice. “And you’d do well to show some respect.”