The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(86)

“Am I g-g-going to die?”

“Of course not,” Kiva told him sternly, as if the idea was preposterous, even if every part of her was shriveling on the inside.

Two sets of footsteps approached from behind her, belonging to Jaren and Naari. Strong hands came to rest on her shoulders, and a whiff of honey, ginger, and mint touched her nose—ingredients she’d asked Jaren to mix into a healing tea in the hope that Tipp might be able to drink some.

“Hey, buddy, looking good,” Jaren said from over Kiva’s shoulder.

“J-Jaren,” Tipp said, his pale lips stretching into a smile. It made him look even more sickly, like the effort cost him dearly. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” Jaren said, letting go of Kiva to crouch beside the bed. “This is where all the fun is.”

Tipp laughed, a low, almost painful sound. Kiva wasn’t sure if she wanted Jaren to shut up and go away so the young boy could rest or if it was more important for him to lift Tipp’s spirits and give him a fighting chance.

“And N-Naari, too,” Tipp said, looking over Kiva’s shoulder to where the guard stood.

“I wouldn’t try talking to her,” Jaren warned conspiratorially. “She skipped breakfast, so you know what that means.”

Tipp’s smile widened, a hint of light touching his cloudy eyes. “Hungry?”

Jaren nodded solemnly. “And angry. She’s worse than a wooka after hibernation.”

Naari made a grumbling noise from behind Kiva, but Tipp laughed again, this time not sounding so painful. Kiva had to bite her cheek to keep in her tears, the sight of him so animated, so alive, while also looking so small in the infirmary bed was almost too much for her to bear.

“What do you think about some tea?” Kiva asked, her voice wobbling only a little. “Jaren made it, so there’s a good chance it’ll make you feel worse—”

“Hey!”

“—but it should help soothe your tummy a bit,” Kiva continued over Jaren’s protest. “Sound good?”

Tipp curled in on himself, as if daunted by the idea of trying to ingest anything after having brought so much up in such a short period of time. And yet, he still said, “I c-can try.”

Kiva heard the distress in his voice, even if he tried to hide it. She wanted to tell him they could try later, but he desperately needed some fluids. Dehydration would only make him feel worse.

“Just a little,” Kiva said, as Jaren rose from his crouch and went to collect the brew. “A few sips.”

But Tipp wasn’t able to manage a few sips. He was gagging after the first one, tears streaming down his cheeks as he apologized over and over.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” Kiva told him, sitting on the bed beside him and running her hands through his sweaty hair.

“I’m s-s-sorry!” he cried. “I t-tried!” He looked at her through watery eyes filled with fear as he sobbed, “I don’t want t-t-to die!”

Kiva swallowed back her own sob, her heart aching. She kept her face void of all that she was feeling, hiding her dread and panic, and broke all her rules by lying down and pulling him into her arms. His small, feverish body burrowed into hers, clutching tightly, like she was his only lifeline left in the world.

“I’m here,” Kiva whispered as he trembled against her, his tears and sweat soaking into her tunic. “I’m here, Tipp.”

She kept repeating herself, reminding him that she was there, that she wouldn’t leave him, until he finally cried himself into an exhausted sleep. Even then, Kiva didn’t let him go, holding him close, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the steadiness of his breathing, the life that remained within him, for however long he had left.

“Kiva?”

She looked away from the boy in her arms and up at Jaren, his tender concern prompting tears to pool in her eyes. She tore her gaze away, carefully extricating herself from Tipp’s hold and tucking the blankets around him, just as Jaren had done for her eleven days earlier.

“I just— Can you— I need—” Kiva couldn’t finish a sentence, her throat painfully tight as she tried to keep her tears from overflowing. Unable to look at Jaren again and the compassion she knew she’d see on his face, she turned to Naari and said, “We need more gingerweed.”

When the guard made a move toward the door, Kiva threw out her hand. “No, I’ll get it. Can you— Can you just watch him for a minute? Both of you? I’ll be— I’ll be right back.”

And without waiting for them to agree, Kiva took off across the infirmary and out the door into the medicinal garden.

“Kiva!” Jaren called after her. “Kiva, wait!”

She didn’t wait, not even when she heard him following. She kept going, rounding the bend until she reached the thistlewort, the place where they’d found Tipp the previous night, now bathed in soft, morning sunlight.

“Kiva, stop.”

A hand on her shoulder. That was all it took for her to crumble.

Jaren caught her before her knees could hit the dirt, turning her in his arms and pulling her close as the tears she’d been trying so hard to keep in began to stream like rivers down her face.

“I can’t lose him!” she cried into his chest.

Jaren held her tighter, rubbing her back soothingly. “Shhh. I’ve got you.”