The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(39)
Kiva was surprised enough that she stopped attempting to yawn, making herself ignore the strange feeling of the air pocket. “I think the better question is how unconfident I am.”
“I’m being serious, healer.”
“As am I, Princess,” Kiva shot back. “No one has ever survived all four before.”
She wasn’t about to admit to her hopes that she wouldn’t have to undertake the remaining Trials, that her family would come for her before then.
Mirryn shook her head. “Not true. Long ago, people survived.”
Kiva made a scoffing sound, the poppymilk overriding her self-preservation instincts. “Sure, back when people had magic. Sorry to disappoint you, but unless I’m your long-lost sister, I don’t have a lick of elemental power in my veins.”
“So you need to use your other skills,” Mirryn said, growing frustrated. “What can you do?”
Kiva threw out her arms, instantly regretting the move for the surge of pain it prompted. “Look around you. This is what I can do—I heal people. That’s it.”
“Then you’re going to die.”
Five words, and Kiva’s breath froze in her lungs.
Mirryn settled back in her seat, her face impassive, despite the death sentence she’d just delivered.
“It’s true, you know it is,” the princess said coldly. “And while you might not deserve such an end, everyone certainly believes she does.” Mirryn jabbed an elegant finger toward Tilda’s closed curtain.
Kiva swallowed.
“You’re going to die,” Mirryn repeated, “and so will she.” The princess sent her a ruthless look. “And quite frankly, it’d be much less of a headache for all of us if you did.”
Kiva sucked in a breath, but Mirryn wasn’t done speaking.
“But,” the princess said, before sighing, long and loud, “it seems I’m too magnanimous for my own good.”
Brow crinkling, Kiva asked, “What?”
Mirryn sighed again, then said, “Warden Rooke said you’ve been here ten years. You’re a survivor, Kiva Meridan, and if you can last that long, you can make it through another six weeks. Especially if you have help.”
Kiva was struggling to keep up with what was happening, the painkillers making her mind slower than normal. It sounded as if—
“Here,” Mirryn said, thrusting a hand into her cloak, and, after a quick glance toward the still-oblivious Veris, withdrawing a shiny amulet.
Kiva took it when prompted and turned it between her fingers. Upon realizing what it was, she debated whether the poppymilk was a good enough excuse to get away with throwing it back at the princess’s face.
At the end of the glittery chain was a perfect depiction of the Vallentis crest. The sword, arrow, crown, and four quadrants were solid gold, but the elemental representations were made from colored gemstones: sapphire for water, emerald for earth, topaz for air, and ruby for fire.
It was beautiful.
But it represented everything—everything—Kiva hated.
“Very pretty,” she bit out as she shoved it back toward the princess.
Mirryn didn’t take it. Instead, she said, “Most of my family has just one elemental affinity, but I’m gifted with two. Air, as you already know . . .” She paused, as if to make sure Kiva was paying attention, “And fire.”
With another quick glance at Captain Veris, Mirryn turned back to Kiva and opened her palm. A flame appeared above her hand. No, not above her hand—on her hand. It surrounded her flesh, the fire dancing over her skin as she moved her wrist this way and that, the embers beginning to wander along her forearm before she snapped her fingers and made it all disappear.
Her skin was unblemished, her cloak sleeve, while slightly charcoaled, was otherwise undamaged.
“Impressive,” Kiva choked out when she saw the princess was waiting for a reaction.
Mirryn smirked and nodded toward the amulet still in Kiva’s hand. “The ruby in the crest can absorb fire magic, should someone—such as myself—push power into it.” Her smirk widened, her implication clear. “I don’t know what the Trial by Fire is, but as long as you’re wearing that”—she indicated the amulet again—“then the magic within should keep you protected.”
Kiva gaped at the princess, then at the amulet, struck speechless.
“Don’t let anyone see it, or they’ll think you stole it,” Mirryn warned. She paused, then added, “My charity only extends so far. You’ll have to figure something else out for the last two Trials.”
Kiva nodded mutely, still unable to form a response. She did, however, close her fingers around the amulet and tuck it into the folds of her blanket, hidden from sight. The moment it was covered, Mirryn raised her hand, repeating the action that had created the air pocket. Kiva’s ears popped again, this time with relief as the pressure lifted, and she knew they were no longer in their privacy bubble.
“It was . . . an experience . . . to meet you, healer,” the princess said, standing to her feet and smoothing invisible wrinkles from her cloak. “I’ll look forward to hearing news of how you fare in the rest of your Trials, whatever your fate may be.”
Mirryn didn’t offer any words of encouragement or well wishes for Kiva’s survival. In fact, as she began to walk away, she seemed quite content to purge Zalindov and its inhabitants from her mind, the prison healer included. And yet Kiva couldn’t keep from calling out to her, finally able to speak.