Jaren was sitting on a stool beside her bed, looking down at his hands, but his head shot up at her question, relief flooding his features. “Why do you always ask me that?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m constantly surprised to see you’re still alive.”

A half smile tipped his lips before it faded and his face turned stony. “The same could be said about you after that stunt you pulled today.”

Kiva didn’t want to have this conversation while lying horizontal. She didn’t want to have this conversation at all, but definitely not in such a vulnerable position.

Pushing herself up, she held in her grimace as pain shot through her arms, torso, and head all at once, and she carefully assumed the same position as she had with the princess, leaning back against the wall.

“That looked painful.”

Kiva sent a glare toward Jaren. “Looks can be deceiving.”

She didn’t know why she was so defensive around him, why she hated revealing any sign of weakness.

Jaren sighed and ran his hands through his hair. It was sticking out at odd angles, as if he’d repeated the action numerous times. Peering closer, Kiva noted that he was covered in even more dirt and grime than when she’d seen him out by the gallows, indicating that he’d labored hard in the tunnels both before and afterward. There were shadows under his eyes, and a weariness about the way he held himself. Zalindov was getting to him, she could tell, even if it hadn’t yet broken him.

“Can I . . . Is there anything I can get you?” Jaren asked quietly.

Recalling his strong aversion to pain-relieving drugs, Kiva shook her head, deciding to wait until he left before she took another dose of poppymilk. That, and she didn’t want to risk muddying her wits while in his presence.

“I’m fine,” Kiva said. “Now answer me—why are you here?”

Jaren uttered a disbelieving sound. “Why do you think?” He jabbed a finger toward her and said, with clear accusation, “You nearly died today, Kiva.”

“So what?”

The two words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.

“‘So what?’” he repeated, incredulous. “‘So what?’ Are you kidding me?”

She said nothing, startled by his fierce reaction.

“Did you want to die?” he demanded. “Was that your plan?”

Kiva jerked backwards. “Of course not.” She was vaguely aware of the door to the quarantine room opening and closing, but she didn’t take her eyes from Jaren.

“Then why, Kiva? Why would you sacrifice yourself like that? Why risk your life for some woman you don’t even know?” He pointed sharply toward the closed privacy curtain around Tilda’s bed. “Why give up everything for her?”

“Why do you care, Jaren?” Kiva shot back at him. “You don’t know me well enough to be this upset.”

“No, but I d-do!”