As they walked along the lower levels of the pit, Kiva signaled to Naari when she found places that had seen or were currently seeing higher levels of contact with the laborers. Pausing each time, she scraped samples into the flasks she’d brought with her, before continuing on down the path. Mostly she searched for stagnant puddles of water and small bogs of mud that had a mixture of quarry minerals all mashed in together, especially when they were well trodden by prisoners’ footprints or nestled into rocky crevasses near where the laborers worked.

It was just as she was about to tell Naari that she had enough samples and was ready to go that a scornful voice called out to her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Zalindov’s Bitch.”

Kiva turned woodenly to find Cresta standing behind her. The redhead’s face was smeared with quarry dust, her serpent tattoo almost appearing alive beneath the luminous grime.

The last time Kiva had seen her, Cresta had been threatening Tipp’s life. So far, Kiva had upheld her side of the bargain to keep Tilda alive, but the look Cresta was now leveling at her served as a clear reminder that she still had work to do. Zalindov’s rebels wouldn’t be happy until their queen was free—and perhaps, them with her.

A shiver ran down Kiva’s spine. She hadn’t considered what would happen when the rebels came to rescue Tilda. Would they be taking others with them, too? Others . . . like Cresta?

Kiva shook off the thought, determining that it wasn’t her problem. She had enough to deal with without the moral fallout from such a decision.

“Do we have a problem here?” Naari asked, stepping closer.

“Look at you with your babysitter,” Cresta sneered at Kiva, ignoring the guard other than for a slight tightening of her fingers around the pickaxe she held. “How’s it feel, working in your castle while the rest of us slave away here?”

On the one hand, Kiva couldn’t believe Cresta had the audacity to not only snub Naari, but to continue antagonizing Kiva with the guard right there. On the other hand, this was Cresta, and she’d always done whatever she wanted and somehow survived the aftermath.

“I’d hardly call the infirmary a castle,” Kiva returned in an apathetic tone, “but I guess it’s all about perspective.” With clear deliberation, she turned her back and began to walk away, saying to Naari over her shoulder, “I’m done here. Let’s go.”

“That’s right, healer whore, run away like you always do,” Cresta called after her. “Better rustle up some courage before your second Trial. You’re gonna need it!”