The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(76)
“Get. Her. Up,” Rooke repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
Gentle hands reached for Kiva, the cloth—Naari’s short cloak—being carefully rearranged over her shoulders and dropping until it covered her torso, stopping at her upper thighs. It didn’t hide enough of her flesh for comfort, nor did the smears of black charcoal that coated her skin. Normally, Kiva would have been appalled at parading in front of the assembled masses outside the crematorium wearing so little. But right now she didn’t care if she had to twirl naked through them, as long as it meant getting back to the safety of the infirmary and dosing herself with something to ease her breathing.
“Up we go,” Naari said, drawing Kiva’s arm around her shoulders and bearing most of her weight. “I’ve got you.”
Kiva wanted to thank the guard, but the idea of forming words right now was beyond her. A quick, exhausted glance around the hallway revealed Rooke’s scowling face, Grendel’s comical shock, and Bones, who was staring at Kiva’s bare legs. The expression he wore made her want to head straight to the shower block, but then she swallowed, and the blisters all the way down her trachea screamed their objection. Medicine first, then she would clean and cover herself.
“Let’s get this done,” Rooke muttered, leading the way along the hallway, then into the antechamber at the entrance to the crematorium. Once there, he waited for Kiva and Naari to catch up—their progress being much slower, since, while Kiva’s flesh wasn’t burnt, she was still suffering the effects of heat stroke and smoke inhalation. Along with her damaged throat, her eyes were burning, her head was pounding, her muscles were cramping, and her heart rate was still too fast. The more steps she took, the less confident she was that she’d be able to make it back to the infirmary on her own, even with Naari helping her. All she wanted to do was stop and rest, just for a few minutes.
“Open your eyes,” Naari hissed, giving Kiva a small shake that caused bolts to prickle along her nerve endings, bringing her back into consciousness just as it had started to fade. “Stay with me long enough for Rooke to make his announcement, then you can pass out.”
Kiva was having trouble understanding, her eyelids fluttering again despite Naari’s order, her breath coming in panting rasps. But she forced herself to stay awake, to remain upright, as Naari helped her shuffle out of the crematorium after Rooke, into the bright winter sunshine.
Icy wind touched her face, her legs, every exposed part of her. Kiva moaned, basking in the cool relief. She was tempted to throw the cloak off, but sanity prevailed, and she used her free hand to keep it clasped at her front, attempting to maintain some semblance of modesty.
“Tilda Corentine’s Champion has successfully completed the Trial by Fire,” Warden Rooke announced in a loud voice to the awaiting prisoners.
Shock murmured across the audience, before cries and applause rang out, tentative at first, and then loud enough to make Kiva’s ears hurt on top of everything else. She didn’t have it in her to investigate who was genuinely pleased by her surviving as opposed to those who wished she’d failed.
Rooke raised his hands, and when the crowd quieted again, he said, “In two weeks, Kiva Meridan will face her third task, the Trial by Water. You will bear witness, as is law. Until then, you’re dismissed back to your regular duties.”
The crowd began to disperse, while Kiva swayed in Naari’s arms.
“Are we done here?” the guard asked Rooke.
“Go,” the Warden replied with a flick of his hand. But when Naari started to lead Kiva away, Rooke said, “No, wait.”
He held up the amulet between them. Kiva’s eyes were moving in and out of focus, and she blinked against the dry grittiness left over from the fire, trying her hardest to keep from yielding to the darkness creeping into her vision.
“This can’t happen again,” Rooke warned Kiva in a low voice. “I told you I can’t help you, and I assumed it was implied that no one else can help you, either. I don’t care that Prince Deverick is the heir to Evalon’s throne. If anyone interferes with your third task, royal or otherwise, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”
Kiva shook her head, but not because she didn’t understand. “It wasn’t the prince,” she rasped, every word sounding like charcoal scraping against wood.
Rooke’s expression tightened. “Don’t lie to me.” He thrust the amulet at Kiva, and she fumbled for it with her hand that was still clasping the cloak. Naari took it from her, sliding it into her own pocket for safekeeping.
“I’m not,” Kiva said, all but wheezing now. “It wasn’t the prince. It was the princess.”
“Everyone knows Princess Mirryn doesn’t have enough fire magic for the stunt you pulled today,” Rooke said. “It’s public record. She can manage a few small flames, at best, but her real talent is with air. The power in your little amulet—you can thank Prince Deverick for that. He’s the strongest fire elemental in the Vallentis family.”
Kiva tried to think back to when Mirryn had given her the amulet. She’d implied that she’d filled the ruby with her own magic, but now Kiva realized she’d never actually said it outright. Was it really the crown prince who had intervened—again? Mirryn had alluded to Deverick’s superficial thoughts toward Kiva, and he himself had flirted with her in the infirmary, but was that truly enough for him to have saved her? Twice? And if so, why did Mirryn make Kiva believe the amulet was from her?