“Yes,” Kiva croaked, unable to offer more. It was a lie, but she had no energy to debrief him right now.

“Something like this went around years ago, soon after I first became the Warden,” Rooke said, a nostalgic gleam in his dark eyes. “You were probably too young to remember—”

“I remember.”

Rooke held her gaze, and then his expression cleared, as if suddenly recalling why she would remember—and who she had lost to the sickness. He nodded once, and said, “Best of luck to you, then. By the sounds of it, many lives are counting on you.”

Including yours, Kiva wanted to say, but didn’t. Partly to keep from provoking him, and partly to avoid the pain the words would bring.

“See her back to the infirmary, Guard Arell,” Rooke said to Naari, who dipped her forehead in agreement. The Warden then turned and strode away, the three guards and Bones following in his wake.

“Kiva, I’m so sorry,” Grendel said in her quiet, grating voice once the guards were gone. “He didn’t tell me what the furnace was for until this morning, and by then I didn’t have time to warn you. If I’d known—”

“It’s not your fault,” Kiva rasped. She wanted to reach for the scarred woman, but with one arm around Naari and the other clutching her cloak, all she could do was try and smile at the crematorium worker, even if it more likely looked like a grimace.

“How did you survive?” Grendel whispered. The lowered tone wasn’t to keep from being overheard, since the prisoners around them were making a gods-awful racket as they filed in disorganized groups out of the assembly area. No, her hushed voice was because she was still shocked that Kiva was alive when what she’d faced should have killed her.

“It’s a long story,” Kiva forced out, wincing at how much harder it was becoming to speak. “I’ll tell you another time.”

It was an empty promise, since Kiva wasn’t sure she’d even remember this interaction after she’d drugged herself into oblivion.

As if sensing that she was on borrowed time, Naari told Grendel that she needed to get Kiva to the infirmary, and then the guard began to help Kiva stumble in that direction. Fortunately, only the morgue was between them and their destination, and Kiva felt confident that she’d be able to make it.

But then her legs gave out.

Naari grunted under the added weight, and three male voices cried out Kiva’s name in alarm.

Tipp.

Mot.

And Jaren.

It was the last who reached her first, and before Kiva knew what was happening, he swept her up into his arms, taking her from Naari and striding quickly toward the infirmary.