“Apparently I remind her of her girlfriend,” Kiva shared. “Something about how I have the same kind of fighting spirit. I think maybe it was meant to be a compliment?” She shrugged. “Honestly, I was in a lot of pain when we spoke, even with the poppymilk. I couldn’t get a good read on her.”

Naari turned to Kiva. “Princess Mirryn has a girlfriend?”

Kiva shrugged again. “That’s what she said.” Looking closely at Naari, she added, “You’re not one of those royal-obsessed fans, are you? Desperate for any scrap of information?”

“Of course not,” Naari said, frowning. “I’m just surprised.”

“That she’s in a relationship?”

Naari said nothing, her silence confirmation enough.

Kiva snorted, then remembered who she was with and tried to turn it into a cough, resulting in a disgusting sound that she was grateful no one else—like Jaren—was there to hear.

“What’s funny?” Naari asked, proving that Kiva’s attempted cough had failed.

“It’s just . . .” Kiva trailed off, trying to think of the best way to say what she was thinking without upsetting the woman strapped to the teeth with lethal weapons. “I’m guessing the king and queen don’t make proclamations regarding the dating status of their kids. If Mirryn were to become engaged, then sure, the kingdom would hear about it. But just having a girlfriend?” Kiva shook her head. “Sorry, but you can’t be surprised about not knowing that.”

Again, Naari said nothing. But then—

“Apparently you have the crown prince to thank for saving your life.”

Pulling a face, Kiva said, “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I hear he’s handsome,” Naari commented.

Kiva nearly tripped over her own feet. “Are we seriously having this conversation?”

“I’m just saying, some people dream of marrying a prince.”

“Marrying . . . a . . .” Kiva spluttered, unable to even repeat the words. “Are you insane? I can’t think of anything worse.” Especially when it came to a scoundrel like Deverick. Barely a few minutes in his presence and, savior or not, Kiva had been ready to throw something at him.

The guard laughed—whether at Kiva’s words or her disgusted expression, Kiva wasn’t sure.

“Then what do you dream of, healer?”

“I have a name, you know.”

“I know.”

Kiva sighed. “I have a lot of dreams. A lot of nightmares, too. Only time will tell which path my life will take.”

There was a weighty pause before Naari said, quietly, “You are wise for your years, Kiva Meridan.”

You’re wise beyond your years, little mouse.

A lump rose in Kiva’s throat at the memory Naari’s words had brought forth, something her father said to her every time she came up with a new remedy or treatment that he hadn’t considered. Smart as a whip, our Kiva, her mother used to go on for him, telling anyone who would listen and smiling proudly at her daughter.