“If you’re not with them, how can you be fine with what they’re doing? With the unrest they’re causing?” Jaren asked, clearly frustrated. “You’ve been in here for ten years, so you don’t know what it’s like out there, how dangerous it is. Evalon is all but breaking apart. Most of the allied kingdoms have closed their borders, fearing the rebel movement will spread into their lands. In some, it already has. And our enemies . . . Caramor and Mirraven are frothing at the bit to launch an invasion, waiting for the slightest hint of weakness. If not for the Tanestra Mountains making it difficult for them to move their armies . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Kiva smarted at the reminder of how little she knew about the outside world. The coded notes she received didn’t offer any political news, so the best she could hope for was when she treated new prisoners who happened to be talkative or when Rooke gave something away during their private meetings. But . . . it wasn’t Jaren’s fault that she was so uninformed, so she forced patience into her tone as she said, “I’m not saying I support any of that, just that I understand their motives—that they believe the kingdom is rightfully theirs, and they want it back. But,” she hurried on when Jaren opened his mouth again, “in my experience, people who get mixed up with the rebels usually end up imprisoned or dead. I’m already imprisoned—I don’t want to be dead.”

“I still don’t—”

“Let’s not argue about this,” Kiva cut Jaren off. Again. This was clearly something he was passionate about, enough that she wondered if he had deeper, more personal reasons for being so opposed to the rebels. If he had family or friends who had been hurt—or worse—because of them, his reaction not only made sense, but was justified. While Kiva wouldn’t be swayed from her own opinion, she didn’t want to cause him further distress, so she went on, “If you’re still worried about where my loyalties lie, think of how useless I’d be to any of them, especially in here.” She waved a hand, reminding him of where they were. “The prison rebels actively despise me, so they’re hardly going to ask for my aid.” Ask, no. Threaten Tipp’s life, yes, but Kiva decided against mentioning that. “Even outside of Zalindov, I’d be a terrible recruit. My healer code would mean I’d have to help anyone who came to me, including those loyal to the Vallentis family. I doubt that would go over well—with either side.”

Jaren’s tension dissolved, and his eyes finally lightened, as if he too realized just how preposterous such a circumstance would be.