The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer #1)(99)

Danger, Kiva’s mind warned. Danger!

But she couldn’t give a second thought to her audience, not when every part of her was beginning to tremble with dread. All she knew was that Jaren, Tipp, and Mot were up there somewhere, willing her to stay alive. She wondered if they were more or less anxious than she, being made to witness, yet helpless to act.

When Rooke finally came to a stop, they had traveled perhaps halfway down the quarry from where they’d started. There was still a sheer cliff between her and the surface of the water, which Kiva guessed was between fifty and a hundred feet away, but it was hard to tell with the disillusioning turquoise color and its reflecting stillness.

“Kiva Meridan,” Rooke said in a loud voice, the words echoing around the stone and up to the awaiting prisoners and guards who surrounded the quarry. “Today you will face your third Ordeal, the Trial by Water. Do you have any last words?”

Kiva wished he would stop asking that before each Trial. What was she expected to say?

But then she remembered that she did want to say something, and she looked at Naari, trying to communicate with her. In return, the guard gave the slightest of shrugs to say she didn’t understand.

Knowing she was running out of time, Kiva turned back to Rooke and shook her head, still thinking madly about how she might steal a moment with Naari before the Trial began.

Rooke was oblivious to how distracted she was and proceeded to reveal what she would have to do. “The average person can hold their breath underwater for up to two minutes.”

Kiva froze, but Rooke wasn’t finished.

“The record is half an hour.” The Warden paused, before sharing, “But that man suffered irreparable damage afterward, and complications that later led to death.”

Depriving the brain of oxygen for so long . . . Kiva was amazed the record holder had survived at all, let alone lived for any length of time until his complications set in.

“To pass today’s Trial,” Rooke continued, “we’ve taken those times into consideration, along with the temperature of the water. As such, you’re to be weighted down and sent into the quarry, where you’ll remain submerged for a total of fifteen minutes.” He kicked a limestone boulder resting at his feet, and the coiled rope attached to it. “At that point, we’ll pull you back up. If you’re still alive, you’ll have succeeded.”

Kiva only remained upright because Naari took her arm in a pincer-grip, the pain from her nails all that kept Kiva’s vision from succumbing to the panicked black dots creeping in at the edges.

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

Not once had Kiva considered whether she’d have to hold her breath underwater, not even when she’d envisioned all the scenarios involving the aquifer. She’d thought she would be swimming, not submerged. And while she knew there were free-divers who could hold their breath for that long, most notably the fish farmers off the coast of Albree and workers in the Grizel Catchment, she was not one of them. The only experience she had was playing in the river as a child, where she’d gone for perhaps a few minutes at a time—enough to worry her parents, but no longer than that.

Fifteen minutes . . . It was impossible.

Kiva couldn’t believe she was thinking it, but she wished Princess Mirryn or Prince Deverick could have found a way to help her again, despite Rooke’s warning about no more interference. Even if Mirryn didn’t have any water magic, she could have helped in some way. And Deverick . . . well, Kiva assumed he didn’t have any water magic either, since he already had air and fire, like his sister. But still. Any elemental magic was better than the nothing Kiva had. Not even Mot’s potion would help her—without having to swim for her life, she wouldn’t be facing muscle fatigue and cramps. What she really needed was an elixir to make her breathe underwater, and that, she knew, didn’t exist.

Kiva was a survivor. But . . . for this Trial, she feared that wasn’t going to be enough.

“Do you understand your task?” the Warden asked.

Kiva couldn’t reply verbally, so she nodded, and looked down over the cliff into the quarry again. Her head spun with the realization that they weren’t hiking any lower, that it was from this height she would be falling into the water.

“Guard Arell, would you do the honors?” Rooke said.

Kiva’s heart leapt in her chest as Naari loosened her pincer-grip and moved into a crouch, reaching for the coiled rope and tying the end closest to the boulder around Kiva’s ankle. Realizing this was her last—and perhaps only—chance, Kiva waited until Rooke was issuing a command to one of the other guards before she bent and whispered in Naari’s ear, “It’s poison, Naari. They’re not sick, they’re being poisoned.”

She didn’t have time to say more, to explain about Olisha and Nergal and the “immunity booster,” because Rooke turned back and narrowed his eyes at her, asking, “What was that?”

“I told her she’s hurting me,” Kiva lied. “The rope is too tight.”

“It needs to be tight,” Rooke said. “We can’t have you undoing it while you’re down there. And besides, how will we fish you back out if it slips off?”

Kiva didn’t respond. But she did look at Naari as the guard slowly rose, her amber eyes alight with understanding. And horror.

“You’re sure?” Naari breathed.