“Drink this before you start dying again,” Princess Mirryn interrupted, shoving a small stone tumbler toward Kiva. It was only a quarter full, and Kiva didn’t need to give the white liquid a sniff to identify it as poppymilk. Normally she wouldn’t want anything hindering her lucidity, especially in the presence of Evalon royalty, but she could barely think, let alone speak, over the pain raging through her body.

Downing the nutty-flavored remedy in one go, Kiva was grateful that the princess allowed her a few moments for it to take effect. The dose wasn’t large enough to knock her out, or even make her high, but it swiftly eased her pain into a dull background thrum.

“Better?” Princess Mirryn asked.

“Much,” Kiva said. She forced herself to add, “Thank you.”

Carefully, very carefully, Kiva shifted her pillow and leaned back against the wall, wincing slightly and wishing she’d ingested more poppymilk before moving. But she had more support now, and after a few steadying breaths, her pain was manageable once again.

“Should I—uh—” Kiva made a gesture with her hands to indicate bowing.

Mirryn snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Kiva took that to mean the princess wouldn’t punish her for her lack of royal etiquette.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m here?” Mirryn said, taking the tumbler from Kiva and turning it between her fingers, as if she needed something to do with her hands.

Kiva considered the question, and slowly replied, “To be honest, I’m wondering why I’m here.”

With the poppymilk taking effect and her attention moving beyond her physical distress, she couldn’t reconcile what she remembered happening with the Trial by Air and her current state.

“I fell,” Kiva continued. “I should be dead.”

“Yes,” Mirryn answered. “You should be.”

The princess said no more, and while Kiva was bursting with questions, she held her tongue and waited. She used the silence to look around the infirmary, noting that the crown prince wasn’t with his sister. She did, however, see that the drapes were drawn around a bed in the corner—Tilda’s bed—so she made the hopeful assumption that Jaren and Tipp had returned the sick woman after the Ordeal had ended. Neither of the boys were in the room, but Captain Veris stood at the entrance to the infirmary, his alert eyes moving from the princess to Kiva and then out to the grounds. No other guards were present, royal or otherwise.