Kiva had to count to ten to keep from snapping that it was none of his business and requesting that he leave the infirmary. The truth was, she liked waking up to find him beside her bed. She liked that he was concerned, that he cared enough to be angry. Very few people at Zalindov gave any thought to her welfare—it was always she who was looking after others, not the other way around.

But she’d also meant what she’d said, that he didn’t know her well enough to be so upset. She didn’t understand what was happening between them and wondered if he just felt connected to her because she was the first person he’d met upon waking at Zalindov. It wouldn’t be the first time a prisoner reacted in such a way, even after she’d carved open their flesh. They perceived her as someone familiar during the uneasy transition into their new life. A comfort, almost. But their dependence usually faded after a few weeks, and Kiva rarely interacted with them again unless they had a heath concern—or they turned up dead, and she had to send them to the morgue.

Jaren, however, had already been at Zalindov for nearly three and a half weeks, and showed no signs of disappearing from her life. If anything, it was the opposite, with her seeing more of him as time passed. Part of that was due to the bond he’d formed with Tipp, the younger boy having adopted Jaren, deciding it was his purpose to help the newcomer survive. And Tipp’s connection to Kiva meant Jaren was, by mutual acquaintance, connected to her as well.

But still . . . Kiva was out of her element with this and had no idea how to respond to his request—no, his demand—for answers. While she was touched that he cared, she also dreaded that kind of attention. She’d been at Zalindov long enough to know not to form lasting relationships. Tipp was the only person Kiva allowed even remotely close to her heart, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Nevertheless, seeing the concern on Jaren’s face, the tears still in Tipp’s eyes, even the tight pinch to the listening Naari’s features, Kiva couldn’t muster the antipathy required to keep from answering.

“Help me up, would you?” she asked softly. “I want to show you something.”

While she would have preferred Tipp’s assistance, Jaren was more capable of supporting her, so she pushed aside her pride and allowed him to wrap his arm around her as she rose shakily to her feet.

Kiva couldn’t keep a quiet moan from leaving her lips as bolts of electricity shot up her legs, her very nerves protesting the move. While nothing was broken, it still felt like everything was.

“You all right?” Jaren asked.