The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(70)

Yet another reason Kiva needed to rid her mind of the previous day and focus.

Following? Jaren’s instructions again, she made herself breathe deeply a second time.

“Better?” he asked.

“You still need to go,” Kiva said instead of answering.

“I wanted to see you before your Ordeal,” Jaren said. “Are you ready?”

“Of course I am.”

Jaren’s eyes remained locked on hers, waiting for the truth, and Kiva sighed.

“Fine. I’m a nervous wreck. Happy?”

A gentle squeeze of Jaren’s hands on her shoulders as his gaze softened. “You’ve got this, Kiva.”

“No one survives all the Trials, Jaren,” Kiva whispered, her stomach in knots, as it had been ever since she’d slathered her skin with Mot’s karonut oil concoction that morning. Now that the time was nearly upon her, she lacked confidence in its protection, more aware than ever that if the rebels failed to mount a second rescue attempt, then the princess’s amulet was her best chance for survival. Perhaps her only chance for survival. Her life was in the hands of a Vallentis—a cruel twist of fate, indeed.

“You’ve already made it through one,” Jaren said, low and soothing. “You can do it again.”

“But—”

“I believe in you,” he interrupted, without any hint of doubt in his voice. “Tipp believes in you. Mot believes in you.” He paused. “Even Naari believes in you.”

“Most prison guards wouldn’t care whether I live or die.”

“Naari doesn’t seem like most prison guards,” Jaren said, stating the obvious. “She’s clearly fond of you.”

“That’s because I’m the only person standing between her and death, if this sickness continues,” Kiva muttered, though she knew that wasn’t the only reason. The guard did seem to genuinely care for her, even lying to the other guards last night to protect her.

Jaren tucked a strand of hair behind Kiva’s ear, causing her to suck in a breath. But before she could do anything—jerk away, lean forward, remain frozen—he stepped back, both of his hands now resting casually by his sides.

“Maybe,” he said. His lips twitched. “Or it could be because of your warmth and kindness and overall sociability.”

Kiva crossed her arms. “Ha-ha.”

Jaren laughed quietly, the sound loosening some of the knots in Kiva’s stomach.

Tipping his chin toward the rat pen, he asked, “Any progress?”

Kiva latched on to his offered distraction with unhidden gratitude. Quickly explaining about Mot’s elixir, she finished with, “I think we can rule out the quarry as the origin. If something was going to happen, it would have shown by now.”

“So, back to the drawing board?” Jaren asked.

“More like continuing on to the next sketch,” Kiva said.

“Which you’ll do after you pass today’s Ordeal,” Jaren said, his voice full of confidence.

Kiva swallowed, holding his steady gaze. “Right.”

“It’s nearly time,” came Naari’s voice as she strode into the infirmary.

All the breath left Kiva, first because she wasn’t ready, and second because Jaren wasn’t supposed to be there during work hours.

For one mad second, she wondered how she could hide him, before sanity took hold and she realized it was too late, since Naari was already looking straight at him.

“The other prisoners are being assembled,” the guard told him. “You need to hurry and join the rest of the tunnelers before anyone realizes you’re not with them.”

Jaren gave her a quick nod, before turning back to the dumbstruck Kiva. “See you afterward.”

No biddings of good fortune or luck, and certainly no farewell; only an encouragement that they would see each other again, something that wouldn’t happen if she failed the Trial.

Because she’d be dead.

Kiva was confused. Jaren hadn’t held back in berating her after she’d volunteered to take on Tilda’s sentence, but today he seemed to have complete conviction in her ability to succeed. His turnaround surprised her almost as much as Naari being unconcerned about finding him somewhere he shouldn’t be. And that Kiva couldn’t begin to understand.

Just as Jaren reached the doorway to the infirmary and nearly disappeared through it, Kiva called out his name, prompting him to pause and look back over his shoulder at her.

“I’ve sent Tipp to help Mot in the morgue today, since I want him to stay busy and not have time to think about . . . anything,” Kiva said. “Can you— Will you—” She broke off, swallowed, tried again. “Just . . . look after him, please?”

Jaren’s face softened. “I’ll keep an eye on him during the Trial, but after that, you’ll keep looking after him yourself. Just like you promised.”

He then vanished into the grounds, his words lingering in the air between them and inciting hope within her, while simultaneously adding to her dread. If the rebels didn’t come—if she didn’t make it through the Ordeal—

“Any idea of what to expect today?” Naari asked, interrupting Kiva’s near-to-spiraling thoughts.

“A few,” Kiva replied, “but I’ve been mostly trying not to think about it.”