“Why are you here, Princess?” Kiva finally asked, needing answers, especially after learning that the royals had been given marching orders by Rooke. There was no reason why Mirryn should be in the infirmary, or why a princess would deign to waste time speaking with a prisoner. “Your brother saved me for—for whatever ridiculous reason he told you. And I’m thankful, really I am. But that doesn’t explain why you were waiting by my bedside for me to wake up. What aren’t you telling me?”

The princess raised her hand, and Kiva flinched backwards, an automatic defensive response. Mirryn’s eyes flickered behind her mask, but she said nothing, instead slowly closing her hand into a fist. As she did so, the air around them rippled and Kiva’s ears popped as pressure pushed against her, her head feeling like it was being stuffed with cotton wool.

“I’ve placed us in an air pocket,” Mirryn said, “for privacy.” She nodded toward Veris, who was looking out at the grounds, now oblivious to their ongoing conversation.

Marveling at what the princess had done, Kiva tried to yawn away the pressure, but the discomforting sensation didn’t yield.

“We won’t have much time before he wonders why we’re so quiet and realizes what I’ve done,” the princess continued, a hint of urgency in her smooth, cultured voice. “Tell me, how confident are you that you can survive the next three Ordeals?”

Kiva was surprised enough that she stopped attempting to yawn, making herself ignore the strange feeling of the air pocket. “I think the better question is how unconfident I am.”

“I’m being serious, healer.”

“As am I, Princess,” Kiva shot back. “No one has ever survived all four before.”

She wasn’t about to admit to her hopes that she wouldn’t have to undertake the remaining Trials, that her family would come for her before then.

Mirryn shook her head. “Not true. Long ago, people survived.”

Kiva made a scoffing sound, the poppymilk overriding her self-preservation instincts. “Sure, back when people had magic. Sorry to disappoint you, but unless I’m your long-lost sister, I don’t have a lick of elemental power in my veins.”

“So you need to use your other skills,” Mirryn said, growing frustrated. “What can you do?”

Kiva threw out her arms, instantly regretting the move for the surge of pain it prompted. “Look around you. This is what I can do—I heal people. That’s it.”

“Then you’re going to die.”

Five words, and Kiva’s breath froze in her lungs.

Mirryn settled back in her seat, her face impassive, despite the death sentence she’d just delivered.

“It’s true, you know it is,” the princess said coldly. “And while you might not deserve such an end, everyone certainly believes she does.” Mirryn jabbed an elegant finger toward Tilda’s closed curtain.

Kiva swallowed.