The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(40)
“Wait!”
The princess halted, half turning back to her.
“Why are you helping me?” Kiva asked, the amulet all but burning beneath her blanket. “You said earlier that you don’t care what happens to me. I don’t—I don’t understand.” She swallowed, then made herself add, “If I live, so does Tilda. Why would you risk that?”
Later, when the poppymilk left her system, Kiva might wonder at her own daring. But now she needed answers.
Whether Mirryn knew it or not, the Vallentis family was the reason Kiva was in this mess at all. Suspected treason against the crown—that was why Faran Meridan had been arrested. No proof, no nefarious plotting or actions; he’d merely been seen in a public marketplace near the wrong person, at the wrong time. His supposed crime had landed him at Zalindov, and Kiva with him. They were both victims of circumstance . . . with Kerrin nothing more than collateral damage.
Kiva had spent ten years coming to terms with that night, learning to accept that stewing on what had happened to her family would not keep her alive. The injustice of it all still tasted bitter in her mouth, but she was able to push past it to focus on what was more important: surviving. Because of that, she was rational enough to know that if she wasn’t rescued before the next Trial, then the princess had just given her an invaluable treasure—safe passage through to the third Ordeal.
But . . . Kiva didn’t know why.
Turning to face her more fully, Mirryn eyed Kiva, weighing her response. Finally, the princess answered, “Part of it is because my brother has a soft heart—too soft, if you ask me. Especially for a crown prince.” Mirryn rolled her eyes behind her mask. “But lustful idiot or not, I owed him a favor.”
Lustful idiot, indeed. Kiva had no idea what Prince Deverick was thinking. While grateful, she’d never asked for his help, and given that he was a Vallentis, she had no intention of repaying him. Ever.
“As for the other part . . .” the princess went on. “You have the spirit of a survivor, and I can’t help respecting that. In any other circumstance, I think you and I might have grown close. Become friends, even.”
Kiva sucked in a startled breath. It was that or start laughing. Protective amulet or not, there was no way she would ever—
“But this isn’t any other circumstance,” Mirryn continued, cutting off Kiva’s inner denial. “And the truth is, even with my help, I’m assuming you’ll still fail. That’s why I’m giving you a chance, albeit a hopeless one.” She shrugged, an unapologetic rise and fall of her shoulders. “The likelihood of you and Tilda surviving the next six weeks on your own, of Tilda even living long enough, given her sickness . . . Well, you don’t need me to tell you the odds.”
It was true—Kiva already knew. She was just banking on something the princess didn’t know. On someone. Or multiple someones.
Her family.
And the rebels.
Stay alive.
Don’t let her die.
We are coming.
“I’ve always rooted for the underdog,” Mirryn said, almost musingly. “And you, Kiva Meridan, are the biggest underdog I’ve ever seen.”
“I have to agree with you on that,” interrupted a new voice.
Kiva could do nothing but stare as the crown prince himself strode into the infirmary, his shoulders back, head held high, winter cloak rippling dramatically behind him as he approached on calm, unhurried feet.
“Finally,” Mirryn said to him.
“Apologies, dearest Mirry. I’ve been busy,” the prince said. “There are so many interesting people here. Such fascinating stories.”
The way Deverick looked at Mirryn made Kiva think they were communicating without words, and she felt a pang, having had entire silent conversations with her own siblings, once upon a time.
“Well, hel-lo there, gorgeous,” the prince said, coming to a halt at Kiva’s bedside. He grinned down at her, a flash of perfect teeth. His mask hid everything but his mouth and his cobalt eyes, which were dancing with what looked like amusement. “You’re looking well.” He winked. “Very well.”
Kiva wondered if he thought himself charming. For her part, she was unimpressed. And entirely uninterested. Impulsive and reckless, Mirryn had called him. Apparently, he was also a bit of a cad. Not that Kiva hadn’t guessed as much, given that he’d saved her life on the basis of her appearance. Still, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if that horse was coated in slime.
“Your Highness,” she returned, stiffly. “Thank you for saving me.”
Prince Deverick waved a hand, still grinning. “It was nothing. Really.”
“The healer has some complaints about her physical condition,” Mirryn told her brother, inspecting her fingernails. “Consider yourself lucky to have received any gratitude at all.”
Kiva’s eyes widened.
“I’ll admit, the timing was close,” the prince acknowledged. “Another few seconds and—” He made a slapping sound with his hands, enough to churn Kiva’s stomach. “But you’re alive, and that’s what matters. It’d be a shame for someone as lovely as you to—”
“Gods, spare me,” Mirryn groaned, her features pinched. “Can we go now? I need to bathe for the next hundred years. I fear I’ll never get the stench of this place off me.”