“Inside the walls, there are four extra freestanding watchtowers,” Kiva said as they approached one of them, a daunting stone building shaped like a tall rectangle rising into the sky, the top section opening out onto a wraparound platform. From her position, she could see two guards walking along it, and she knew more were inside. “Together with the six wall towers, they offer a bird’s-eye view over the entire inner compound. Someone is always watching—never forget that.”

Again, Jaren didn’t reply.

Kiva kept walking until they were as close to the center of the grounds as she could get them.

“The infirmary, morgue, and crematorium are along the northwest wall.” She pointed back the way they’d traveled. “If we’d kept following it around, we would’ve hit the workrooms. Everything from stitch craft to administration work happens in there. If we’d gone in the opposite direction, turning right from the infirmary, we would’ve hit the kennels, the central barracks where most of the guards sleep, and the entrance block beside the front gates, where new inmates are processed.”

Jaren squinted through the twilight in that direction, his gaze slightly unfocused now as his pain took hold. “Is that where visitors come to meet us?”

The question caught Kiva unawares. “Prisoners aren’t allowed visitors.”

“What, never?” Jaren asked, turning swiftly back to her. He swayed a little on his feet, and Kiva had to resist the urge to reach out and steady him. “Does that mean . . . You never said how long you’ve been here.”

She shrugged and looked away. It was answer enough.

“I’m sorry, Kiva.”

Three words, said in his low, gentle voice, and they were nearly her undoing. Three kind words from a stranger, affecting her enough to prompt the sting of tears—was that how far she’d fallen?

We are safe. Stay alive. We will come.

She couldn’t be so weak, not in front of Jaren, and certainly not in front of Naari. Her family needed her to stay strong.

Pushing through the heaviness in her chest, Kiva straightened her spine and said, firmly, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. My role as the prison healer might require me to help you and others, but I’m in here for a reason, just like everyone else. Murderers and rebels—that’s what we are. You said it yourself.”

Jaren said nothing for a long beat, but then, slowly, he stated, “So . . . no visitors.” When Kiva nodded stiffly, he went on, “That’s no great loss. I wouldn’t want my family to come, anyway.” A small huff of laughter left him. “They’d be even less inclined to visit.”