With only Tilda in the room, no answer came, so Kiva shrugged and began organizing her samples, before feeding them to the rats. She then noticed that she was nearly out of Augury Elixir, so after force-feeding Tilda some broth and checking on the quarantined patients, she followed Mot’s instructions to brew a fresh potion. Most of the ingredients were already on her workbench, but the everberries and snowblossoms needed to be picked fresh from the garden, so Kiva gave the elixir a good stir and was just about to head outside to collect them when Jaren and Naari walked through the infirmary door.

“Perfect timing,” Kiva said. “Can one of you please stir this?”

She held out the ladle to Jaren when he reached her first. He was covered in tunnel dust as usual, but the bruises and scrapes on his face from his altercation with Cresta’s lackeys had healed, leaving just the thin crescent-shaped scar over his left eye from the day he’d arrived at Zalindov.

“Back in a second,” she said, pointing to the door leading to the medicinal garden.

“What, no ‘Hi, how was your day?’” he returned, sending her a tired but still teasing grin.

“I’d ask if I cared,” Kiva threw over her shoulder as she walked away, not allowing him to see her smile.

Naari caught it, though, her amber eyes sparkling as she took the ladle from Jaren and told him, “Why don’t you help Kiva with . . . whatever she’s doing.”

Everworld help me, Kiva thought at Naari’s lack of subtlety. Whatever might be going on between the guard and Jaren, it clearly wasn’t stopping her from playing matchmaker. Maybe she hadn’t lied about her relationship with him, after all.

“I’m good,” Kiva called back to them.

“I don’t mind helping,” Jaren said, and she heard his footsteps following her. “Speaking of help, where’s Tipp?”

Kiva waited for Jaren by the door, then opened it for the both of them. “Olisha said he took off this morning and didn’t come back. I’m trying not to worry, but . . .” She plucked at the fraying edge of her tunic. “It’s not like him, you know?”

“Have you checked with Mot?” Jaren asked. “He might be with him in the morgue again.” His eyes lit as he added, “Or playing another prank on him.”

“Gods, I hope not,” Kiva groaned, walking out into the brisk night air and rubbing her arms against the chill, the tall gabbergrass rising up around them. “They’re finally on good terms after the last one.”

“You have to admit, the kid has an imagination,” Jaren said, chuckling.

“He certainly does,” Kiva agreed. Quietly, she added, “He was meant for more than this. The world needs people like him out there in it, shining light into the dark places. He’s wasted in here.”