“I wouldn’t say no to some aloeweed gel,” Kiva murmured, relieved that her voice didn’t sound—or feel—as painful. It was still hoarse, but nowhere near what it had been before the swift-acting tallowfruit nectar.

She heard Jaren leave her bedside, then the tinkering of objects being moved on the workbench, before his footsteps returned to her again. Her eyes were still closed until she felt him take her arm in his hands, followed by the cool, soothing sensation of the aloeweed being rubbed gently into her flesh.

Kiva’s eyes shot open and she sat up. “I can do it.”

“Lie down, Kiva,” Jaren ordered in a no-nonsense voice.

“But—”

“Just close your eyes and rest,” he said firmly.

Kiva bit her lip, but the feeling of the gel on her skin was too good for her to object. She hadn’t suffered any burns, but she still felt the aftereffects of so much heat, as if the fire had burrowed deep into her bones and was trying to find a way out. The aloeweed soothed that feeling, and combined with Jaren’s long, tender strokes, Kiva soon found herself relaxing, almost entirely against her will.

He focused his ministrations on her hands and arms, careful not to let his fingers wander anywhere else, and she in turn was careful not to mention any other places that could use attention. Once he left, she could see to the rest of her body, especially since, as the other medicines began to kick in, she remembered that she was only wearing Naari’s short cloak and a light blanket. While all her important parts were covered, she was still much more vulnerable than she’d ever been around Jaren before. Other than, perhaps, last night. But even then, they’d both been fully clothed.

“Better?” he asked, finishing with her other arm and sitting back down beside her.

“Much,” she told him, again grateful not to be rasping. “Thank you.” She glanced around for Naari, wanting to thank her too for all her help, but the guard must have snuck away while Kiva was downing all her remedies.

“I have a question for you,” Jaren said, somewhat hesitantly.

Kiva looked back at him, noting his fiddling hands. He was nervous, though she couldn’t imagine why. She assumed he wanted to ask about the Ordeal, even if Naari had already filled him in on the amulet—which the guard hadn’t returned and Kiva doubted she would ever see again. The crest had done what she’d needed; she had no further use for it.

A lot had happened in the crematorium, most of which Naari didn’t know, since Kiva had been alone in the furnace. She shuddered and blocked out the memory, not yet ready to talk about it, even with Jaren. She was just about to tell him as much, but he continued speaking before she could.