Kiva was so stunned that she didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. She tried to fight the woman off, her fingers grasping Tilda’s forearms and shoving with all her might, but the woman’s grip was unyielding.

“Ssssstop,” Kiva tried to say, but she could barely get any air through her windpipe. She dug her fingernails into Tilda’s flesh, but still the woman didn’t release her. Desperate, she tried to scramble backwards, but Tilda came with her, the woman’s full weight now hanging from Kiva’s neck and causing her to lose her balance, the two of them tumbling to the floor.

Dark spots began to flood Kiva’s vision, her lungs begging for oxygen. Frantic, she clawed at the woman’s face, but Tilda dodged her nails as if she had some kind of sixth sense, remaining just out of reach, her grip tighter than ever.

And then her hands were gone.

One moment, Kiva’s body was turning limp, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The next, Tilda’s weight had disappeared, leaving Kiva coughing and spluttering on the ground.

“Are you all right?”

Kiva couldn’t answer, still too busy trying to breathe. But she was aware enough to know that it was Naari who had asked the question, the guard having been the one to pull Tilda away.

Through watering eyes, Kiva saw Tilda wrestling against Naari’s grip, fighting like a rabid creature. The guard had dragged her until she was pressed up against the worktable, and despite Naari being fully armed as usual—two swords strapped to her back and a plethora of weapons attached to and hidden among her leather armor—she wasn’t reaching for any of them, instead holding Tilda at bay with her hands. But Naari didn’t see what Kiva could from the ground: Tilda fumbling blindly on the worktable, before wrapping her fingers around the sharp carving blade.

“Look out!” Kiva rasped, her voice like gravel.

Naari moved fast, but Tilda was faster, striking upward toward the guard’s head. For someone without sight, her aim was scarily accurate, and Naari had barely any time to react. It was all she could do to release one hand from Tilda and use it to block the blow, the blade sinking into her gloved wrist.

She didn’t cry out or reveal any sign of pain. All she did was fling Tilda around and, in one swift movement, elbow her in the side of the face.

The fight left Tilda in an instant, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Kiva was still panting for air, startled by how quickly the struggle had ended.

“Are you all right?” the guard asked again.

No, Kiva wasn’t all right. She’d just been attacked by one of her patients—someone she was trying to keep alive, to protect at all costs.