The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(57)

Chapter Seventeen


“How d-d-did you go?”

Kiva and Naari had barely set foot inside the infirmary before Tipp was upon them, bouncing up and down as he waited for an answer.

“I should have enough to get started,” Kiva told him, patting her bag. “How did you go?”

“I g-got a few,” the young boy answered, gesturing to the floor near the workbench where he’d used a mashup of items to construct a small circular pen.

“How many is a few?” Kiva asked, following him over to it.

“Five,” Tipp said. “But Grendel t-told me that she’s seen a heap nesting near the crematorium, so I should be able to g-get as many as you need.”

Nodding with approval, Kiva looked down at the five rats running around the pen, deciding not to comment on the makeshift obstacles Tipp had fashioned from scraps for them to use as playthings. Instead, she said, “Once I have samples from other places, we’ll need a way to separate them. I can’t have quarry-tested rats mixing with farm-tested rats, or any of the others. If they get sick, I have to know what the origin was.”

“Already on it,” Tipp replied. “Mot’s c-coming by later to help me divide the p-pen into sections.”

Kiva placed her bag carefully on the workbench. “Actually, I could use Mot helping me.”

“Jaren can help you,” Naari told Tipp. “He’s good with his hands.”

Kiva’s brows shot upward.

Naari rolled her eyes. “I heard him telling some of the tunnelers that he helped his brother build a fort to play in. He’s good with his hands at building things.”

The stern way she looked at Kiva might as well have been a screaming reiteration of what she’d said the other night—that she only ever behaved professionally toward the prisoners, including? Jaren.

Coughing quietly, Kiva said, “Sounds like a plan.” She then arranged her quarry samples on the bench, deciding her next steps. As she did so, the amulet under her tunic shifted, causing a momentary flash of panic. The Trial by Fire was in two days. Two days. If her family didn’t come soon . . .

Kiva shoved the thought from her mind. There was nothing she could do but hope that they would. And if they didn’t, she had to have faith in the princess’s word, in her magic. She had to have faith in a Vallentis—one of the last people Kiva would ever choose to trust, and yet perhaps her only option if she wanted to remain alive.

Gritting her teeth, Kiva sought distraction in her work. If she didn’t find a way to treat the stomach illness, there was a high possibility that she herself would get sick. If that happened . . . well, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about the Trials anymore. Nor would she need a rescue.

With that grim thought, she pushed all her concerns aside and focused on her task.

Hours went by as she prepared for and began dosing the rats, mixing small amounts of what she’d collected into her own food rations and dropping the offerings into the pen. While Kiva didn’t like testing live animals, she knew these rats were living on borrowed time. If Boots didn’t catch and eat them, then starved prisoners would. Either way, their fate was sealed.

“What now?” Naari asked when Kiva had made sure all of the rats had eaten a traceable amount.

“Now we wait.”

The guard looked as if she wanted to ask more, but at that moment, Jaren walked into the infirmary, stealing their attention.

Doing a double-take, Kiva demanded, “What happened to you?”

Jaren raised his hand to his face, as if doing so would hide the impressive bruise darkening his eye. Or the graze on his forehead. Or his split lip.

“Nothing,” Jaren answered. “How’d you go today?”

Naari stepped closer and jabbed a finger toward Jaren’s wounds. “Your healer asked you a question.”

“And I said it’s nothing.” Jaren strode by Tipp, playfully messing up the young boy’s hair as he passed, and then stopped when he was before Kiva. He looked down at the rats briefly before asking, “No problems getting your quarry samples?”

Kiva studied his injuries, deciding that if he was capable of risking his life by brushing off the guard, he must not be too badly hurt. But given their environment, he would still need treating. “I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “You let me clean you up, and I’ll answer your questions.”

Jaren cocked his head to the side. “Any questions?”

“Just those two.”

His teeth flashed in a quick smile. “That’s hardly an incentive. I have lots of questions. And you’re rarely in an answering mood.”

“I’m not in an answering mood now.”

When Jaren just continued looking steadily at her, Kiva weighed up how hard it would be to wrestle him into submission, and finally said, “Fine. But only if I get to ask questions, too.”

His smile was wider this time. “I’ve never withheld answers from you before. You’re terrible at negotiating.”

In response, Kiva simply pointed to the nearest metal bench. “Sit.”

Jaren chuckled but did as ordered. Naari, however, looked about a second away from shaking an explanation out of him. The dark look on her face . . . Kiva couldn’t help wondering if maybe Naari did have feelings for Jaren, but her own code of ethics wouldn’t allow her to act on them. Or perhaps that same code of ethics meant she was still new enough at Zalindov to struggle with the brutality heaped on the prisoners, and seeing the evidence on Jaren’s face was enough to distress her. If so, she would need to grow a tougher skin, fast, or she wouldn’t survive much longer at the prison.