Kiva ignored Cresta’s cackle, certain that if she looked over her shoulder, she would see the warning in the young woman’s eyes. Despite her feigned scorn, Cresta was well aware that Tilda’s survival was tied to Kiva’s success.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Naari asked once they were far enough away.

“Want to tell me why you didn’t punish her?” Kiva replied.

Naari was slow to respond, but eventually said, “Did you want me to?”

Kiva sighed, and hoisted her bag of samples higher onto her shoulder. “No. Never mind.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Kiva remained silent for a long while, thinking over her response. It wasn’t until they were out of the quarry and following the rail tracks back to the prison gates that she finally answered.

“I represent everything Cresta hates about Zalindov,” Kiva said. “To her mind, I do exactly what I’m told, when I’m told. And it’s true—I do.” Because unlike Cresta, Kiva cared whether she lived or died, and she found that being obedient was more likely to keep her on this side of the everworld. She played the game, having chosen long ago to sacrifice her soul in order to save her life. The other prisoners resented her for that. Especially the rebels. And yet she was still breathing, while many of them were now dead.

“The carvings,” Naari guessed.

“Among other things,” Kiva said. “Plus, I kept her alive when she first arrived here.”

A confused pause, before Naari said, “Usually people are grateful for that.”

“Not if they want to die.”

A loaded silence met Kiva’s words, during which time she recalled how Cresta had tried to kill herself in her early weeks at Zalindov, using glass shards to slice open her wrists. If not for Kiva’s quick actions, the angry young woman would have died. It was Kiva who had unintentionally lit a fire in Cresta after that, telling her that she was strong and powerful and could survive anything, and that she owed it to herself to find a reason to live.

Cresta had done exactly that, rallying the prison rebels and deciding that her purpose in life was to cause as much conflict as possible, for guards and inmates alike.

“You’re really good at making friends, aren’t you,” Naari said in a dry tone, prompting a reluctant chuckle out of Kiva.

“It’s one of my truest talents in life,” she replied just as dryly.