“Don’t let anyone see it, or they’ll think you stole it,” Mirryn warned. She paused, then added, “My charity only extends so far. You’ll have to figure something else out for the last two Trials.”

Kiva nodded mutely, still unable to form a response. She did, however, close her fingers around the amulet and tuck it into the folds of her blanket, hidden from sight. The moment it was covered, Mirryn raised her hand, repeating the action that had created the air pocket. Kiva’s ears popped again, this time with relief as the pressure lifted, and she knew they were no longer in their privacy bubble.

“It was . . . an experience . . . to meet you, healer,” the princess said, standing to her feet and smoothing invisible wrinkles from her cloak. “I’ll look forward to hearing news of how you fare in the rest of your Trials, whatever your fate may be.”

Mirryn didn’t offer any words of encouragement or well wishes for Kiva’s survival. In fact, as she began to walk away, she seemed quite content to purge Zalindov and its inhabitants from her mind, the prison healer included. And yet Kiva couldn’t keep from calling out to her, finally able to speak.

“Wait!”

The princess halted, half turning back to her.

“Why are you helping me?” Kiva asked, the amulet all but burning beneath her blanket. “You said earlier that you don’t care what happens to me. I don’t—I don’t understand.” She swallowed, then made herself add, “If I live, so does Tilda. Why would you risk that?”

Later, when the poppymilk left her system, Kiva might wonder at her own daring. But now she needed answers.

Whether Mirryn knew it or not, the Vallentis family was the reason Kiva was in this mess at all. Suspected treason against the crown—that was why Faran Meridan had been arrested. No proof, no nefarious plotting or actions; he’d merely been seen in a public marketplace near the wrong person, at the wrong time. His supposed crime had landed him at Zalindov, and Kiva with him. They were both victims of circumstance . . . with Kerrin nothing more than collateral damage.

Kiva had spent ten years coming to terms with that night, learning to accept that stewing on what had happened to her family would not keep her alive. The injustice of it all still tasted bitter in her mouth, but she was able to push past it to focus on what was more important: surviving. Because of that, she was rational enough to know that if she wasn’t rescued before the next Trial, then the princess had just given her an invaluable treasure—safe passage through to the third Ordeal.

But . . . Kiva didn’t know why.