The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(54)
“I heard you met the princess after the first Ordeal. What did she say?”
Kiva debated how to answer, but decided that nothing Mirryn had told her—other than about the amulet—would get either of them in trouble. “I think she was mostly curious about me and why I volunteered.”
“That’s all?”
“Apparently I remind her of her girlfriend,” Kiva shared. “Something about how I have the same kind of fighting spirit. I think maybe it was meant to be a compliment?” She shrugged. “Honestly, I was in a lot of pain when we spoke, even with the poppymilk. I couldn’t get a good read on her.”
Naari turned to Kiva. “Princess Mirryn has a girlfriend?”
Kiva shrugged again. “That’s what she said.” Looking closely at Naari, she added, “You’re not one of those royal-obsessed fans, are you? Desperate for any scrap of information?”
“Of course not,” Naari said, frowning. “I’m just surprised.”
“That she’s in a relationship?”
Naari said nothing, her silence confirmation enough.
Kiva snorted, then remembered who she was with and tried to turn it into a cough, resulting in a disgusting sound that she was grateful no one else—like Jaren—was there to hear.
“What’s funny?” Naari asked, proving that Kiva’s attempted cough had failed.
“It’s just . . .” Kiva trailed off, trying to think of the best way to say what she was thinking without upsetting the woman strapped to the teeth with lethal weapons. “I’m guessing the king and queen don’t make proclamations regarding the dating status of their kids. If Mirryn were to become engaged, then sure, the kingdom would hear about it. But just having a girlfriend?” Kiva shook her head. “Sorry, but you can’t be surprised about not knowing that.”
Again, Naari said nothing. But then—
“Apparently you have the crown prince to thank for saving your life.”
Pulling a face, Kiva said, “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I hear he’s handsome,” Naari commented.
Kiva nearly tripped over her own feet. “Are we seriously having this conversation?”
“I’m just saying, some people dream of marrying a prince.”
“Marrying . . . a . . .” Kiva spluttered, unable to even repeat the words. “Are you insane? I can’t think of anything worse.” Especially when it came to a scoundrel like Deverick. Barely a few minutes in his presence and, savior or not, Kiva had been ready to throw something at him.
The guard laughed—whether at Kiva’s words or her disgusted expression, Kiva wasn’t sure.
“Then what do you dream of, healer?”
“I have a name, you know.”
“I know.”
Kiva sighed. “I have a lot of dreams. A lot of nightmares, too. Only time will tell which path my life will take.”
There was a weighty pause before Naari said, quietly, “You are wise for your years, Kiva Meridan.”
You’re wise beyond your years, little mouse.
A lump rose in Kiva’s throat at the memory Naari’s words had brought forth, something her father said to her every time she came up with a new remedy or treatment that he hadn’t considered. Smart as a whip, our Kiva, her mother used to go on for him, telling anyone who would listen and smiling proudly at her daughter.
Tears prickled Kiva’s eyes, and she blinked them back, no longer having the cover of rain to conceal them. She looked ahead to see how far they had left to walk, relieved to find they were already passing the abandoned quarry to their right, with their destination in sight straight ahead.
Kiva had never visited the abandoned quarry. It had been depleted a few years before she’d arrived at Zalindov, the laborers relocating further north to the much larger mine where she and Naari were now headed. She’d heard rumors that while the abandoned one was smaller, the prisoners had been forced to dig so deep into the earth that numerous cave-ins had occurred, resulting in multitudes of deaths. Similar accidents happened in the newer quarry, though less frequently.
“How do you want to go about this?” Naari asked as the sounds of hammers and chisels meeting rock began to reach their ears. She indicated the bag Kiva had brought with her and added, “The quarry is huge. Do you know where you want to get your samples from?”
“We need to go where the largest concentration of workers are, places that lots of prisoners have access to or spend most of their time.”
Naari’s reply was dry. “You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, so Kiva didn’t answer, though her cheeks did warm slightly.
“This way,” Kiva said as the tracks came to an end. Rail carts were piled up, empty and waiting for the prisoners to load them and push them back to the depository once their shift was over. It was hard work, grueling on the body and mind. Quarriers, like tunnelers, rarely survived long at Zalindov.
There was only one watchtower overlooking the quarry, but there were plenty of guards on the ground making sure the prisoners were working—and providing motivation when they weren’t, their whips and canes stained with blood. The quarry overseer, Harlow, was the worst of them, and he scowled at Kiva and Naari as they approached where he waited at the base of the watchtower.