The blackarmor scorpion comes next, with its paralyzing sting. Doron goads it with a stick, and soon enough, its tail plunges down next to the snakebite. As Doron inspects the wounds, the edges of my vision cloud and I sway on my feet. Doron directs a sharp gaze at me and commands me to sit. He helps me down with the steady hands of a seasoned healer, and I’m unable to reconcile his gentleness with the fact that he’s just goaded two deadly creatures to kill me.

After that comes the red-ringed spider. This one’s the worst, not because it’s any deadlier than the others, but because I’ve never completely rid myself of my fear of these creatures. My mother says a leaf spider bit me when I was very young, but I have no memory of it. I look away when Doron coaxes the creature onto my arm, and the bite is mercifully quick. Then the last apprentice leaves, and I am alone with the judges.

Fire from the three bites spreads through my chest, and the room itself fades in and out of view. Doron catches me as I list to the side. There’s a sleeping mat on the floor, and I wonder when they laid it out for me. Heat envelops my body. My vision clouds red, then black. Voices echo in my head, climbing like vines up the underside of my skull and threatening to burst me open. When I scream, Kaylah’s face appears in front of me, only to morph into the head of a snake. I’m suddenly thirsty, unbearably so, and I ask, then beg, for water. But no one comes to my aid.

Gradually, the sensations lose their strength and fade away. The torturous sounds collapse back into familiar voices, and the room stops wavering in front of me. The heat ebbs too, but not the all-consuming thirst. By the Goddess, I’d give up my healer’s sash for something to drink.

Footsteps shuffle up next to me. It pains me to turn my head, but when I see Kaylah holding a cup of water, I lunge for her. I don’t make it far, not even to sitting, but Kaylah catches me before I fall and holds the cup to my lips. It empties all too quickly. Kaylah sets it aside and wipes my face with a damp cloth.

“I’m proud of you, Zivah,” she says. “You are now the youngest high healer Dara has ever seen.”

Once it’s clear that I will survive, my judges aid the rest of my recovery. Now the healers who’d so relentlessly tested me all morning refocus their considerable experience toward nurturing me back to health. Doron mixes three drafts in quick succession—one to clear the remaining venom from my blood, another to help me regain my strength, and a third to rehydrate my parched body.