“I just— Can you— I need—” Kiva couldn’t finish a sentence, her throat painfully tight as she tried to keep her tears from overflowing. Unable to look at Jaren again and the compassion she knew she’d see on his face, she turned to Naari and said, “We need more gingerweed.”

When the guard made a move toward the door, Kiva threw out her hand. “No, I’ll get it. Can you— Can you just watch him for a minute? Both of you? I’ll be— I’ll be right back.”

And without waiting for them to agree, Kiva took off across the infirmary and out the door into the medicinal garden.

“Kiva!” Jaren called after her. “Kiva, wait!”

She didn’t wait, not even when she heard him following. She kept going, rounding the bend until she reached the thistlewort, the place where they’d found Tipp the previous night, now bathed in soft, morning sunlight.

“Kiva, stop.”

A hand on her shoulder. That was all it took for her to crumble.

Jaren caught her before her knees could hit the dirt, turning her in his arms and pulling her close as the tears she’d been trying so hard to keep in began to stream like rivers down her face.

“I can’t lose him!” she cried into his chest.

Jaren held her tighter, rubbing her back soothingly. “Shhh. I’ve got you.”

Tear after tear fell from Kiva, all her fear and sorrow flooding out of her, until finally her sobbing eased, giving way to exhaustion.

In a rasping whisper of a voice, her words full of anguish, Kiva repeated, “I can’t lose him, Jaren.”

“I know,” he whispered back, still holding her close, his arms curled tightly around her.

She pulled away just enough to look up at him, meeting his concerned blue-gold gaze.

“You don’t know,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t lose him.”

Jaren reached for her face, gently wiping away her tears. “Sweetheart, I know.”

“He’s like a brother to me,” she said, unable to keep from acknowledging the truth, the depth of care she had for the young boy. “I can’t—” She broke off in another sob, but then caught hold of herself, breathing deeply. “I can’t lose another brother. I just can’t.”

And that’s when it came pouring out of her, the story of how Kerrin had been killed trying to keep their father from being arrested, how Kiva had been swept away to Zalindov with Faran, only to lose him less than a year later. The whole time she spoke, Jaren held her against his chest, embracing her in his solid, comforting warmth.

When, finally, the last of her tears fell and the tension left her body, she didn’t have it in her to feel embarrassed, not on top of every other emotion she was dealing with. She did, however, manage to step out of Jaren’s arms and whisper, “Sorry.”