“Why are you helping her?”

Kiva spun around. “Sorry?”

Jaren looked toward Tilda. “If she really is the Rebel Queen, then she’s responsible for everything they’re doing. For all the unrest within Evalon.” He turned back to Kiva. “People are dying because of her and her followers. Lots of people.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Kiva said dismissively.

“I’m not,” Jaren said firmly. “Things are changing out there, Kiva. What started as peaceful protests has become a bloodbath, the rebels moving from village to village, recruiting people and killing the guards who try to stop them. Not to mention the innocents who are hurt along the way.” He held her eyes as he finished, “And here you are, trying to save their leader’s life.”

Don’t let her die.

“That’s my job,” Kiva replied defensively, even as ice clutched at her heart.

“She hurt you.” Jaren’s eyes moved to her throat, his voice low with concern. “And by the looks of it, I’m guessing she was trying to do more than that. What would’ve happened if Naari hadn’t arrived when she did?”

Kiva recalled the darkness that had been spreading across her vision, the suffocating burn as she’d struggled to breathe, the panic of being unable to free herself.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, turning back to continue searching for the aloeweed, now even more desperate for him to leave.

“How can you say that?” he asked, exasperated.

Kiva finally spotted the small jar and reached for it triumphantly. Only then did she face him again and say, “Because it doesn’t.” She waved her free hand, indicating beyond the walls of the infirmary. “This place is full of murderers and rapists and kidnappers, but I can’t think of them that way. If they come to me with a problem, then I have to treat them. It’s not my job to judge them, only to heal them.” Kiva’s gaze shifted to Tilda as she finished, “Whether she’s the Rebel Queen or not, whether she wants to overthrow the kingdom or not, whether she tries to kill me again or not, it doesn’t matter. I have to help her anyway. Do you understand?”

Jaren studied Kiva’s face for a long moment before he blew out a breath and nodded. “I understand. But I don’t like it.”

“I never said I liked it,” Kiva returned. “How do you think it feels to help a man who chopped up his own children and claimed he was selling pork offcuts to his local tavern when it was really human flesh?”

Jaren pulled a face. “Please tell me you’re making that up.”