Jaren had the decency to look ashamed, so Kiva made an effort to gentle her tone as she went on, “I’m touched that you were upset by what you heard, but I don’t need you fighting my battles for me. I’ve been here long enough to know that the best thing I can do is ignore it and act like it doesn’t affect me. They can say whatever they want—and nine times out of ten, they end up apologizing anyway, usually when they’re sick or hurt and realize I’m the only one who can help them. Not,” she added with emphasis, “that I would withhold treatment if they didn’t show remorse. Just that when they experience for themselves that I actually do care about them, they no longer take out their anger on me. Because that’s all it is, Jaren. They’re angry and upset and frustrated and helpless, like all of us in here. They just vent their emotions in the wrong ways.”

Jaren said nothing for a long moment, but then jumped down from the bench as he asked, “I’m guessing Cresta isn’t one of the nine in ten?”

Kiva didn’t need to confirm, though she did warn, “She’s dangerous. If you value anything I say, stay away from her.”

“I value everything you say, Kiva.”

The words were quiet, serious, and they caused Kiva’s eyes to lock on his, finding him looking back at her steadily, solemnly.

Silence descended upon them as they stared at each other, both processing what the other had said. It was Jaren who broke it first, his voice filled with apology.

“I’m sorry I acted like such a brute. It won’t happen again.” He didn’t break their locked gazes as he went on, “And just so you know, I don’t see you as some kind of damsel who needs rescuing. I’ve never met anyone stronger than you—not just because you’ve survived a decade in this gods-awful place, but because you’ve sacrificed your own needs over and over again to serve those around you, even—and especially—those who don’t want your help. So you’re right, you don’t need me fighting your battles.” He moved a step closer, his tone husky as he finished, “But . . . if you’ll let me, I’d like to be standing beside you as you fight them.”

Kiva’s pulse was thrumming loudly in her ears. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, bolts of electricity tingled her flesh. She didn’t know how to respond, could barely think over her physical reaction to his declaration.

Careful. Careful. Careful.