By the time the week came to an end, while Kiva was capable of moving around on her own again, her restlessness only continued to grow. No matter how much work she had keeping her occupied, she couldn’t help wrestling with anxiety over the next Ordeal, aware that if her family didn’t free her in time, she would have to complete it. She tried to envision what she might face, as if doing so would make her more prepared. Some of the scenarios weren’t so bad, like having to walk over hot coals or hold a red-hot iron. Neither would be pleasant, of course, but they were more survivable than being tied to a wooden pyre and set alight. That hadn’t been seen at Zalindov for a while, with hanging considered a faster, cleaner death, but there had been a time a few years back when a spate of prisoners had been burned alive. Whenever Kiva recalled the memories, she broke out in a nervous sweat, and her hand would automatically clutch at the princess’s amulet hidden beneath her tunic.

If outside intervention didn’t come before the second Ordeal, Kiva would have to rely on Mirryn’s assurance that the magic-imbued crest would protect her. The very idea of trusting a Vallentis left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, enough that she couldn’t keep from seeking a backup plan, just in case the princess had lied. The problem was, having no idea what the Trial involved left her with few options. There were salves she could rub into her skin to protect her from burning, but none were foolproof. There were also remedies that could relieve damage caused by smoke inhalation, but they wouldn’t help during the Trial itself. Desperate for more information, Kiva even sought out the crematorium worker, Grendel, and asked if she’d been approached by the Warden to oversee construction of a pyre, but Grendel had heard nothing, and could offer no insight into what the Ordeal might be.

While Kiva hated to admit it, the magical amulet was her best bet for survival, regardless of whom it had come from. But . . . for all she knew, the Trial by Fire didn’t involve flames, and therefore the amulet would be of no help. She might instead have to withstand a metaphorical fire, like having to face her fears—though, how a task could be designed in relation to Kiva’s fears, she didn’t know.

No matter how long and hard she thought on it, Kiva failed to come up with any answers. When the build-up of anxiety became too much for her, for the sake of her sanity—and the sick prisoners who needed her full attention—she resolved not to think ahead or dwell on the possibilities.

Her family would come in time, or they wouldn’t.

The amulet would work, or it wouldn’t.

She would live, or she wouldn’t.