The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(38)
Kiva sobered, reminding herself of whom she was talking with. The drug was affecting her more than she’d thought if she was deliberately antagonizing one of the most powerful people in the kingdom. Not to mention, the princess was right—Prince Deverick had saved her, even if it was only for superficial reasons.
“I apologize, Your Highness,” she forced out, the words like hot coals on her tongue. “Please pass along my gratitude to your brother.”
Mirryn sat back, her blue eyes slitted. A long moment of silence passed before she said, “I’m disappointed. I expected more of a fight.”
Kiva’s forehead crinkled. “You want me to be difficult?”
“I want you to show that backbone I saw when you leapt up onto the gallows,” Mirryn said. “I want you to show the courage it took to jump off the guard tower. I want you to show the spirit my girlfriend would have cheered you on for—the spirit my brother kept you alive for.”
“You said it was my face that made him save me,” Kiva deadpanned.
“I also said he’s an idiot.”
“You claimed I had a death wish,” Kiva reminded. “Twice.”
“And look at you now, alive and well,” Mirryn shot back.
“Only because of your brother,” Kiva said, accusation and confusion in her tone. “Does it even count as a victory over the Ordeal? Will I have to—”
Princess Mirryn waved a hand, cutting Kiva off. “You completed the Trial in the eyes of the law. You survived—that’s what counts.” When Kiva opened her mouth to argue, Mirryn sent her a sharp look and said, “Don’t start. I’ve already had to sit through a lecture about interference, even though I wasn’t the one who acted rashly. But of course I had to be dragged into this, didn’t I?”
As Mirryn continued to mutter angrily under her breath, Kiva looked around the empty infirmary again. “Where is Prince Deverick? Why isn’t he here?”
The princess laughed, an open, deeply amused sound. “That is an excellent question. My brother is a reckless, impulsive fool, yet he still manages to be one of the best people I know. He’s probably out befriending criminals as we speak, forging lifelong connections.” Slyly, Mirryn continued, “He’s quite taken with you, you know—if it wasn’t already obvious by you still being alive right now.”
Warmth touched Kiva’s cheeks as she recalled the prince declaring, I like her, in front of the assembled masses. Hoping to keep the princess from noticing, Kiva asked, “The person who lectured you . . . Do you mean Captain Veris?”
The guard in question flicked his eyes over at the sound of his name, but otherwise didn’t move from his position, his face expressionless.
Mirryn laughed again. “Veris is a big softie. I’m surprised he didn’t leap off the tower and catch you himself.”
Kiva said nothing, fearing what might leave her mouth if she opened it, fearing what she might reveal of her first encounter with the man, and all he had taken from her—all in the name of the Vallentis family. Mirryn’s family.
The family Kiva hated, and would hate, for as long as she lived.
“No, it was Warden Rooke who had some . . . choice words for me and my brother,” Mirryn explained.
Kiva would have given a lot to know what those words were. To anyone not of royal blood, interfering with a Trial would have meant severe punishment: imprisonment, perhaps even death. But a prince? And the heir to the throne, at that? Kiva doubted she would be carving Deverick’s flesh anytime soon, not even if he’d had a run-in with Rooke.
“The Warden emphasized his displeasure at my brother’s actions and made it clear that we are . . . discouraged from attending the next three Trials,” Mirryn said. “Between you and me, that’s no great tragedy.” She sniffed and wrinkled her nose, as if the very air offended her.
The fact that Rooke had chastised the prince and princess didn’t surprise Kiva, nor did their capitulation to his request, since the last thing the Evalon royals would want was to get on the wrong side of the man who kept their greatest enemies locked away.
“Why are you here, Princess?” Kiva finally asked, needing answers, especially after learning that the royals had been given marching orders by Rooke. There was no reason why Mirryn should be in the infirmary, or why a princess would deign to waste time speaking with a prisoner. “Your brother saved me for—for whatever ridiculous reason he told you. And I’m thankful, really I am. But that doesn’t explain why you were waiting by my bedside for me to wake up. What aren’t you telling me?”
The princess raised her hand, and Kiva flinched backwards, an automatic defensive response. Mirryn’s eyes flickered behind her mask, but she said nothing, instead slowly closing her hand into a fist. As she did so, the air around them rippled and Kiva’s ears popped as pressure pushed against her, her head feeling like it was being stuffed with cotton wool.
“I’ve placed us in an air pocket,” Mirryn said, “for privacy.” She nodded toward Veris, who was looking out at the grounds, now oblivious to their ongoing conversation.
Marveling at what the princess had done, Kiva tried to yawn away the pressure, but the discomforting sensation didn’t yield.
“We won’t have much time before he wonders why we’re so quiet and realizes what I’ve done,” the princess continued, a hint of urgency in her smooth, cultured voice. “Tell me, how confident are you that you can survive the next three Ordeals?”