The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(71)

“Probably for the best,” the guard said.

Kiva had avoided walking anywhere near the gallows over the last few days, wanting to keep from discovering whether construction had begun on a wooden pyre. While she still prayed for a rescue, if one didn’t come in time, then she could only hope that her Trial by Fire would require something much less confronting than being burned alive. However, she couldn’t shake her feeling that the Ordeal would be dramatic. Even though the royals weren’t attending this time, the rest of Zalindov’s population would again be standing as witnesses, so the Warden and other overseers must still be intending to make a spectacle of it.

“Is there anything you need to do before we leave?” Naari asked. “We have a few minutes.”

Kiva took a moment to consider. There was none of Mot’s waxy mixture left, so she couldn’t slather any more onto her skin. She’d already looked in on the quarantined patients—and sent two more bodies to the morgue. She’d also checked Tilda’s vitals, confident the woman’s health was stable enough that she wouldn’t slip into a convulsion while the Ordeal was underway.

“Nothing I can think of,” Kiva finally answered Naari. She didn’t want to leave until they had to, so she stalled by saying, “But I do have a question for you.”

Naari looked at her, waiting.

Kiva remembered a time when she wouldn’t have dared ask the guard anything. And here she was, deliberately prolonging a conversation, if only to delay her own impending doom. For all she knew, her family and the rebels just needed a little more time. If they really had already tried to infiltrate Zalindov, surely they would do so again. Perhaps they were outside the walls this very moment, waiting to strike, ready to flee with both Kiva and Tilda in tow.

Even as she thought it, Kiva’s spirits dimmed.

Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never lose hope, her father had said to her in the garden. Your brother and sister, your mother, they will come for you, one day.

Maybe they would. Maybe they had.

And maybe that was it.

Over.

Done.

It was suicide, breaking into Zalindov. If they’d already doubled the guards . . . Kiva knew the truth, even if she wanted to deny it, to ignore it.

The rebels weren’t coming. Her family wasn’t coming.

They had tried, and they had failed.

Perhaps they would try again, when things calmed down, when the guards’ vigilance faded. But that would take time—and Kiva didn’t have time. She had an Ordeal today.

Hope was a drug, and Kiva an addict. She couldn’t keep believing, couldn’t keep trusting, couldn’t keep hoping.

We will come.

Ten years. Her family had waited ten years.

We are coming.

They should have already come. Before now—before Tilda. But they hadn’t.

Hurt rose in Kiva’s chest, blinding in its intensity, but she pushed it away, shoving it deep within her, just as she had for years.

It was up to her now.

Up to Kiva to survive.

First, the Trial by Fire.

And then, whatever came next.

Regardless of what her father had tried to make her promise, she couldn’t keep waiting for help to come.

Instead, Kiva would save herself.

Just as she had for the last ten years.

She was a survivor—and she would survive this.

“Kiva?”

Jolting at Naari’s prompt, Kiva realized she’d remained silent for too long, and she scrambled to cement her new resolve while considering one of the many questions that lingered in her mind, settling on the newest addition: “Why didn’t you punish Jaren for not being in the tunnels today?”

Naari cocked her head. “That’s twice this week you’ve asked why I haven’t punished another prisoner.”

Kiva scratched her nose, uncertain how to respond. “Uh . . .”

“Here’s the thing,” Naari said, unfolding her arms and stepping closer. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re already punished enough just by being imprisoned here. You don’t need trigger-happy guards making things worse for the sake of a power trip. Should Jaren have snuck out of the tunnels? No, of course not. Did he take a stupid risk by coming here to see you? Absolutely. But I figure if the tunnel guards didn’t catch him, then that’s on them, not me. For all I know, he could have been allowed to come here because he’s sick or injured, so if anyone asks, that’s the story we’re going with, agreed?”

Kiva’s mouth hitched up at the corner. “Got it.” She paused. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

Holding her gaze, Kiva remembered what the guard had said last night, and answered, “For not being like the rest of them.”

Naari’s amber eyes softened. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could utter anything, Bones arrived at the doorway to the infirmary.

Kiva’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him, but she reminded herself of her decision to let go of what had happened and move on. She was going to see Bones around the prison; it was unavoidable. If he thought she was afraid of him, he would only make her suffer. She would not be cowed.

“They’re ready for you,” he said in a gruff voice, wincing slightly as he looked into the brightly lit room with the sun streaming in from the windows.