The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(66)

Kiva didn’t have any of the answers, but she hoped that by being around some of her fellow prisoners, she might be afforded some insight.

She’d barely walked halfway along one of the long tables before the hushed conversations made her realize things were worse than she’d feared—but not because of the Trials.

“. . . more and more friends gettin’ sick . . .”

“. . . heard the Rebel Queen is shacking up with the Warden . . .”

“. . . dozens dyin’ every day . . .”

“. . . Corentine bitch will get what’s coming to her . . .”

“. . . hasn’t come out of quarantine . . .”

“. . . snuff out that so-called queen in her sleep . . .”

“. . . a tickle in my throat, do you think it could be . . .”

“. . . healer whore’s doin’ nothin’ . . .”

The last made Kiva’s feet slow, and she couldn’t help but listen closer. While alarmed by the anger she sensed toward Tilda, she was also unsurprised. If what the Warden and Jaren had said was true, the rebels had caused a lot of damage in their quest to reclaim Evalon, and hurt a number of people along the way. It was almost a boon that the Rebel Queen was so ill, since at least she was safe within the bounds of the infirmary, protected from the wrath of her enemies inside the prison. With her being watched around the clock, any anti-rebels eager to hasten her demise would only be courting their own deaths.

For now, Kiva was more concerned by the whispers about the sickness—and the newest conversation she was overhearing, specifically about her.

“Why would she do somethin’?” replied another man, with only the back of his bald head visible. “She’s too busy spreadin’ her legs for the guards, ain’t she? Havin’ too much fun to be bothered keepin’ the rest of us alive, am I right?”

A guffaw came from his companion as flames spread across Kiva’s cheeks. Neither of them was aware of her presence, and she hurried onward before they realized, but not before hearing the original speaker say, “I’d be up for a bit of fun with ’er, you know what I’m sayin’? What cell block’s she in again? Or maybe I’ll just pay a visit to the infirmary, tell ’er I’m sick and need some good quality nursin’.”

Kiva’s stomach lurched as both men laughed, and she stopped moving forward, instead spinning on her heel, having heard enough. It was just as she’d feared—the prisoners were angry, afraid, uncertain. Word about the sickness was spreading, and there was plenty of unrest because of Tilda. And what those two disgusting men had said—

“. . . they doubled the guards at the outer perimeter. Rumor has it that the rebels tried to come for their queen . . .”

All thoughts of the two men fled Kiva’s mind, and she came to a dead halt, whirling around to find a trio of prisoners whispering together, two women and a man. It was one of the women who had spoken, her words all but stopping Kiva’s heart.

“What did you just say?” she breathed, forcing her way into their conversation.

The second woman and the man both sneered at Kiva, but the first woman only eyed her warily, before sharing, “Some of the lumbersmiths said there was a disturbance where the forest meets the perimeter fence, said it was a group of rebels trying to break in.” She tilted her head to the side and added, “You’d better watch your back, healer. If they get in and you’re in their way, they’ll slit your throat to get to their queen.”

Kiva’s mouth was so dry that she struggled to speak. “Did they— Did they make it through the fence?”

The second woman scoffed and said, “Of course not. No one makes it.”

Kiva’s vision began to blacken, fearing the worst, until the man jumped in and said, “The guards are furious that they didn’t catch any of ’em. That’s why they’ve doubled the watch, in case they try again. They won’t, though. The rebels aren’t fools.”

Kiva couldn’t listen to any more. On shaking legs, she retraced her steps and hastened out of the refectory, her appetite gone.

The rebels had come.

The rebels had come.

And they had failed.

Had her family been among those who had risked their lives? If the guards had caught them . . . Before the man had spoken, Kiva had feared they’d been captured—or killed. Her relief in knowing they’d fled to safety was overwhelming. And yet . . .

That’s why they’ve doubled the watch, in case they try again. They won’t, though. The rebels aren’t fools.

The man was right. The rebels weren’t fools. But . . . what did that mean for Kiva?

We are coming.

They had come. Would they do so again? Did they have another plan to get to Tilda, to free both her and Kiva?

For the first time ever, Kiva contemplated seeking out Cresta in the hope of gleaning more information. But the risk—it wasn’t worth it. The prison rebels were unpredictable, especially their leader. If Cresta decided to take her anger out on Kiva, it was Tipp who would suffer, Tipp who could die if Cresta lost control. No, for now, Kiva had to wait.

Anxiety churned within her as she walked along the path between the refectory and the cell blocks. More than ever, she longed for an easier way to communicate with the outside world. Surely the rebels had other plans; surely they would try again. Perhaps even now they were searching for a different entry point, a weakness in the perimeter, a means to slip in and out again. Their queen was imprisoned—they would come for Tilda, no matter what.