Instead of dwelling on Jaren’s inevitable demise, Kiva found herself grateful that his arrival had given her back her assistant. Tipp hadn’t been reallocated to the kitchens, so he was still helping her in the infirmary with the quarantined patients. She had an inkling that Naari was responsible for his permanent return, though the guard herself hadn’t been assigned to the infirmary since Jaren’s orientation. Kiva almost missed the stoic young woman, especially when Bones or the Butcher was on duty. Sometimes, however, there was no guard, which was an indication that things were getting back to normal at Zalindov. There had been no riots in some time, and while Rooke had claimed that the rebels were a growing problem, they were keeping quiet. For now.

Slowly but surely, the quarantine lifted, the patients who survived their battle with tunnel fever returning to their jobs and those who didn’t being sent to the morgue.

Ten days passed, and Kiva settled back into her routine, caring for prisoners who came and went, while keeping an ear out for anything she might be able to pass along to the Warden. Soon she was too burdened by her workload to give his task more than a passing thought, with winter causing problems for all inmates regardless of their allocations. The outdoor laborers battled hypothermia and frostbite, while the underground workers were hit by a sweating sickness, the water in the tunnels prompting a smorgasbord of bacterial infections.

The growing array of health concerns left Kiva too busy to think about anything—or anyone. But then, eleven days after Jaren’s arrival, just after Tipp took off for dinner, Kiva was finalizing her weekly inventory when a voice spoke from the infirmary doorway.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Kiva whirled around to find Jaren standing there. It was the first time she’d seen him since his orientation.

“You look terrible,” Kiva couldn’t keep from saying as she stood and motioned him inside.

A quiet laugh left Jaren as he moved stiffly toward her. “That’s some bedside manner you have.”

Kiva didn’t deny it. “I’m surprised you’re still alive. I thought for sure I’d be sending you to the morgue by now.”

Another laugh, this one louder. “And the compliments keep coming.”

Kiva didn’t allow herself to feel relieved that not only was he still standing, but he seemed to be in good spirits. He’d lasted nearly a fortnight, which was longer than others could say, especially those allocated to the tunnels.

“What can I do for you, Jaren?”

She realized her mistake immediately, but it was too late for her to go back in time and call him by his identification number. Instead, she ignored his satisfied expression and tapped her foot impatiently.