“The royal family has decided to come and witness the first Ordeal,” Naari shared. “They need the extra time for travel.”

For a long moment, there was no sound in the infirmary. But then—

“What?”

Kiva wasn’t sure who the loudest exclamation belonged to; all she knew was that she wasn’t the only one who had uttered the cry.

“King Stellan and Queen Ariana are comin’ to Zalindov?” Mot asked, one hand pressed to his balding head. “Blimey.”

“No, not them,” Naari said. “They’re too far away, still in Vallenia. But the crown prince and the princess have been wintering in the Tanestra Mountains. They’ve been ordered to come on behalf of their parents.”

Tipp’s mouth was open, Mot was looking dazed, and Jaren’s eyes were wide with shock. Kiva felt better knowing she wasn’t alone in her surprise, but she now felt even more pressure to do the impossible.

Don’t let her die.

Royal entourage or not, it made no difference. Tilda was still very sick and might not make it to the first Trial at all, let alone survive it.

“So, a week?” Kiva said. “That gives us something to work with, at least.”

She looked over at Tilda, her stomach tightening anew at the shackles.

“They mus’ really want to make sure justice is served,” Mot commented, following Kiva’s gaze. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be comin’ all this way, would they?”

“Will you t-tell me the story, Kiva?” Tipp begged. “You’ve shared b-bits and pieces before, but I d-don’t understand why she’s so d-dangerous.”

Kiva looked helplessly at him, then at the others. Her eyes landed on Jaren and, instead of answering Tipp, she asked, “Why are you here?”

He met her gaze. “I came for more of that salve for my hands. But now I want to hear this story.”

Mot nodded his agreement, and Kiva turned to Naari, hoping she would put a stop to this. Instead, the guard just walked over and sat on the nearest bench, as if settling in. Kiva only just kept from gaping at her, and then it turned into a scowl when the others followed Naari’s lead and took their own seats, looking at Kiva in anticipation.

“I’m the prison healer,” she told them. “Not a storyteller.”

“Today yeh’re both,” Mot said.

Kiva looked at Naari again, almost desperately, but it was clear the guard wasn’t going to intervene.

Sighing, Kiva moved to sit in the open space beside Jaren, giving in to their request and sharing the tale she’d begged her mother for every night as a young child.