The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(53)
Despite Raz’s kindness, it was challenging for Faran and, later, Kiva to get letters out of the prison. Only a handful of times had it been worth the risk of seeking out Raz, especially with him being in the stables—outside the limestone walls. Just twice had Kiva managed to send her own messages through him, the first time with three words: Father is dead; the second with five: I’m the new prison healer.
The letters from her family were more frequent, though not enough for Kiva’s liking. Even so, Raz was always cautious about how he sneaked them through the walls, slipping them into the clothes of new arrivals when he helped the guards pull them from the prison wagons, knowing they would then be sent to the infirmary and made to disrobe. It was dangerous, but so far, no one had discovered their ploy. Probably because they didn’t take risks—unlike now. Kiva had no idea why Raz was drawing her attention, especially with Rooke and Naari mere footsteps away.
“I have something for you,” Raz said, barely audible over the continuing rain.
Kiva was careful not to make any sudden moves as Raz drew a mud-streaked note from his coat and raised it toward her.
Glancing quickly at the Warden and Naari, only when Kiva was certain they were still talking heatedly did she duck under the horse’s head until it partially shielded her, before reaching over the stall for Raz’s offering.
Heart pounding, she read the code penned in her sister’s familiar scrawl, excited for what it might say, hopeful for any news of a rescue. But then the words processed.
Don’t let her die.
We are coming.
The message was exactly the same as the last one.
Exactly the same.
Tears of anger prickled Kiva’s eyes. She balled the note in her fist, overcome with a mixture of fury and despair. But then recklessness took hold and she flattened the parchment again, dragging her hand through the muddy tangles in the horse’s mane and pressing her pointer finger to the space beneath her sister’s writing.
“What’re you doing?” Raz hissed urgently.
Kiva said nothing, only looked quickly at Rooke and Naari again, before silently begging the horse not to move, keeping a barrier between them.
Frantically, Kiva scrawled out her own muddied code, symbol after symbol, the longest she’d ever written.
She’s sick.
I’m her Champion in Trial by Ordeal.
Need rescue—when???
Quickly, quickly, she folded the muddy, shorthand note and thrust it back down to Raz.
“Kiva, I can’t—”
“Please,” Kiva whispered, her lips barely moving since Rooke and Naari had finally stopped speaking and were striding back toward her. Even the rain had eased up, as if it had offered all the help it could and now it was done. “Please.”
A resigned sigh was Raz’s only answer, but the sound filled Kiva with relief. He would take the note back to Vaskin with him; he’d send it on to her family. And then—then she would finally get some answers.
Anxious sweat was dotting Kiva’s forehead as the Warden approached, but he didn’t even look at her as he passed by and left the stables altogether, so she turned her gaze to Naari. The guard was watching her closely, as if she could see her nervous tension, so Kiva forced herself to relax. The effort proved in vain when Naari spoke.
“Who’s your friend?”
Panic assailed Kiva, her mind screaming at her to think quickly, to explain that she had no idea what Naari was talking about, that she’d never met Raz before today. But then the guard reached out and petted the horse’s face, and the breath left Kiva as realization hit her.
“Uh, yes. She’s lovely,” Kiva croaked, having no idea if the horse was male or female. She felt the mud coating her hand—mud she’d used to write her note—and held it up, adding, “Dirty, though. She needs a good clean.”
“You’re a mess,” Naari observed. She then shook her head and said, “Let’s head out before the rain picks up again.” Under her breath, she added, “Or before Rooke changes his mind about letting us go.”
Kiva blinked with surprise, realizing the Warden must have been arguing with Naari about their task. Perhaps she should have spoken with Rooke herself, sharing how concerned she was about the spreading sickness. But if she had, she wouldn’t have had a chance to write to her family. If Naari was willing to fight Kiva’s battles, then Kiva was more than happy to let her.
Kiva didn’t dare look back at Raz as she left the stables. But she mentally willed him to send her message as fast as possible, hoping her family would reply just as swiftly. Hoping they would sense her urgency. Hoping they would come.
Chapter Sixteen
The rain stopped completely as Kiva and Naari continued their walk to the quarry, passing the vegetable plantation and the wheat farm, but it returned to a light drizzle when they were trekking past the pigs and poultry. It took great self-discipline not to pause at all the places they walked past, but Kiva made herself remember her strategy. She needed to start at the beginning and work her way methodically from there.
On and on they walked, leaving the farms behind, with no words spoken between them. It was only when they were in line with the eastern wall, roughly where Kiva was meant to have leapt to during her Trial by Air, that Naari broke the silence.