The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(75)

She stretched out her shaking fingers, watching in awe as the inferno swirled around the room, fully encompassing her, and yet caused no harm.

A manic laugh left Kiva, which quickly turned into a sob before she could capture the sound and thrust it deep down within her to keep more from coming. If she ever saw Mirryn again, she would throw aside all her enmity and shower the princess with gratitude. If not for her elemental magic, Kiva would be writhing on the stone floor right now, rather than crouching and watching the fire as it raged around her.

Seconds turned to minutes as Kiva stayed low to the ground. She didn’t dare move, lest she risk disturbing the magic in the amulet. Had she been braver, she might have risen and walked around the room, like some fire goddess dancing in the flames. But all she did was remain pressed against the door, willing back her tears as she waited, waited, waited for the ten minutes to come to an end.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Kiva counted down in her head, seeking any distraction from the growing heat, from the smoke that was beginning to smother her, no matter how low she crouched to seek fresher air.

Four minutes.

Five minutes.

Sweat dripped off her, soaking her clothes, mixing with her tears that finally began to fall as shock took hold. It didn’t matter that she was still alive, the amulet keeping her safe from the flames. Her terror was too strong, too powerful to remain buried within her. No one could see her tears in here—the heat was almost enough to evaporate them before they could trickle off her chin.

Six minutes.

Something was wrong. Kiva knew it as she started coughing, as the heat that had been slowly rising turned from uncomfortable to nearly unbearable. Looking down, she could see the amulet still pulsing with light, but it was flickering, as if running out of power.

No, Kiva willed it, holding it tightly, careful not to speak aloud and risk breathing in extra smoke. Just a little longer.

Seven minutes.

Kiva’s sleeve caught on fire.

She yelped and jumped up, flames billowing into her face, and inhaled a lungful of smoke that sent her into a coughing fit. She threw herself on the ground, rolling around on the stone to stifle the fire that was now latching on to the rest of her clothes, but it was no use.

No, no, no! Kiva screamed mentally, her throat burning as she struggled to breathe, sucking in nothing but hot air and fumes.

Eight minutes.

Kiva’s tunic was incinerating, her pants burning to ash, the amulet now straining to protect just her skin. The scent of karonut tickled her nostrils amid the all-consuming smoke, Mot’s waxy mixture finally having to fight alongside the princess’s magic.

She was so close to the end—so close to surviving the Ordeal. But the power in the amulet was fading, and Kiva didn’t know how long it would last. Already she could feel her throat swelling, blistering on the inside. The elemental magic might have been protecting her flesh, but the room was now filled with toxic smoke, with very little oxygen remaining. Kiva didn’t know how much more her body could handle without a fresh supply of air. Would suffocation take her life, even if the fire itself failed? Would her organs begin to shut down, one after the other? Or would shock send her into cardiac arrest? Her heart had been leaping out of her chest since before she’d been sealed in this room; it surely couldn’t last much longer.

Nine minutes.

Kiva moaned as sweat slicked over her body and then evaporated in seconds. She could feel Mot’s waxy remedy dissolving from her skin, the protection it afforded melting right off her. Gasping and wheezing, she had no fight left in her to do anything but curl up in the fetal position against the stone door, wrapping her arms around her knees and closing her eyes. This was it. She couldn’t last any longer, she couldn’t survive until the end, she couldn’t—

The roaring stopped.

The heat began to fade.

The door opened, and Kiva fell back, still curled around herself.

She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t move, every part of her aching.

But air—fresh, pure air called to her, and she sucked in a breath, before coughing, coughing, coughing.

She felt as if she were dying, her lungs burning, her throat screaming.

“You’re all right, you’re alive, just breathe,” came Naari’s voice, as if from far away.

“Na—”

“Don’t try to speak,” the guard said, and Kiva felt cloth being draped over her, the familiar scent of leather and oranges that she’d come to recognize as belonging to Naari now surrounding her, covering her nakedness.

“What’s this?” came another voice—Warden Rooke.

Kiva felt a weight lifted from around her neck. She tried to protest, tried to open her eyes and reclaim the amulet, but she was still coughing too violently.

“Unbelievable,” growled Rooke. “I told those sodding royals not to interfere.” He spat a curse. “Typical. I should have expected it from the Vallentis brats.”

“You asked them not to attend today’s Trial,” Naari said to the Warden. “Nothing else.”

“Nothing else, my ass. If it had been anyone else . . .” Rooke released a disgruntled sound, then sighed and said, “What’s done is done. Get her up. She needs to walk out of here on her own two feet.”

“She’s in no condition to—”