Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Kiva looked at the young boy and his open expression, to Naari, who appeared curious but no longer wary, and then to Tilda, who seemed near to falling back to sleep, where Kiva knew the delirium would overcome her again.
Perhaps it was for the best that the Rebel Queen was unable to communicate properly, perhaps even for the best that she was ill and confined to the infirmary.
Not only was she protected from any anti-rebel inmates who wished her harm, but she also couldn’t be sent to the Abyss and interrogated.
Until Kiva finished the Trials, Tilda remained a prisoner, her life at risk as long as she was inside Zalindov.
There was no sign that her followers were coming for her a second time.
It was Kiva’s success or failure that would mean Tilda’s execution or release.
And until either outcome occurred, the sick woman was in danger, all her rebellious knowledge trapped within her mind.
Maybe that was why she was still so unwell—because on a subconscious level, she knew what would happen if they tried to pry those secrets from her.
Maybe that was why she wanted to die, to protect her plans to take back the kingdom, and to protect all those she cared about.
But ... Kiva also had people she cared about. And for better or worse, Tilda was one of those people. As long as Kiva remained alive, she was determined to make sure Tilda did, too.
Don’t let her die .
Kiva didn’t need the reminder from the note anymore.
She never had.
And as she pulled up a stool beside Tipp and held tight to Tilda’s hand, as she began to retell the tale of how her father met her mother, she hoped that if Tilda had comprehended the story when Kiva had first shared it, then she would have also heard Kiva’s pleas for her to remember her own loved ones.
To remember that they needed her to stay alive, and to fight.
“You really c-care about her, don’t you?” Tipp asked later that night, when Kiva was feeding yet more samples to the rats. The young boy was trying to help, but was more of a hindrance than anything, preferring to play with the vermin than settle them.
“About who?” Kiva asked, distracted.
“Tilda,” Tipp said. “I saw the w-way you looked at her today when you were t-telling your story. That was great, b-by the way. You never talk a-about your parents.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Kiva said, trying for a dismissive tone, if only to ease the ache she felt whenever she thought of the mother and father she’d lost. Her sister and brothers, too.
Tipp knew better than to press, so he went back to his original question. “What is it a-about her? About T-Tilda? Is it still just what she r-represents—that you d-don’t want another prisoner to d-die, not if you c-can help it? That’s w-what you said, right?”
Seeing his curiosity, Kiva found herself answering, “It’s that, yes. But ...” She paused, then quietly admitted, “She also reminds me of someone I used to know.”
Tipp turned to face her fully, his blue eyes suddenly lined with tears. “I w-wasn’t sure if you’d noticed. I didn’t w-want to say anything, afraid to make a b-big deal out of it.”
Kiva dropped the food she was mixing aquifer moss into and moved a step toward him. “Tipp—”
“I didn’t r-realize when she first arrived, but once you c-cleaned her up ...” Tipp said, quickly wiping his face. “She r-reminds me so m-much of Mama.”
Kiva opened her arms in invitation, and he climbed out of the rat pen into her embrace. His tears didn’t fall, but his sadness still enveloped them.
“Ineke would be so proud of you,” Kiva told him quietly. “You know that, right? So proud.”
For the life of her, Kiva had no idea how Tilda reminded Tipp of his departed mother, other than that they were of similar ages and had dark hair.
Perhaps that was all that was needed to bring the memories to the forefront of Tipp’s mind.
The same had been true for Kiva after her brother had been killed; for years, every young boy she’d seen had reminded her of Kerrin.
“I just ... I’m really g-glad you care about her,” Tipp said.
“Even if I know it’s n-not really Mama, it means a lot to me that you’re d-doing what you can, that you’re trying to help her.
” He pushed back from Kiva and shuffled his feet as he admitted, “I know I was upset a-about you taking on her sentence, b-but you did the right thing. And you’re d-d-doing so great with the Ordeals, so I’m sure t-tomorrow will be the same. ”
Kiva’s insides gave a lurch at the thought of the Trial the next day, and then they tightened even further when she realized that, if she managed to survive this one and then the last, she would be free to leave Zalindov. She and Tilda and Tipp, all of them together.
But they’d be leaving? Jaren and Naari behind. And Mot, too.
At the thought of the old man, Kiva’s eyes traveled over to her workbench and the small flask of milky liquid waiting there.
The ex-apothecary had delivered it that afternoon, having spent the week coming and going from Kiva’s medicinal garden, mumbling to himself.
Today, he’d finally handed the potion over and said, Drink this tomorrow mornin’.
Don’t ask what’s in it—trust me, yeh don’t want to know.
Just plug yer nose first, or yeh won’t get it down.
I’m going to need more information than that, Kiva had replied, eyeing the flask dubiously.
Most people drown from panic or exhaustion, so I’m guessin’ that’s how the Ordeal will test yeh, Mot had told her.
Assumin’ yeh’ll be thrown in the aquifer and made to swim awhile—yeh can swim, right?
—this brew’ll help yeh, physically. It’ll take yeh longer to tire, it’ll ease any cramps and keep yer muscles from seizin’ up.
I tried addin’ somethin’ to help keep yeh calm, but it, uh, reacted badly.
So yeh’ll ’ave to manage yer emotions yehself.
With that, he’d wished her luck and told her he’d start thinking of ways to help with the Trial by Earth. Kiva was grateful for his confidence that she’d make it that far, choking up a little as he’d waved and left the infirmary.
It wouldn’t be easy to leave Mot behind, if Kiva survived all four Ordeals. But as with Jaren, she could do nothing for him. Tipp and Tilda, however, were relying on her, even if they didn’t know it.
“Of course I care about her,” Kiva replied to the young boy, ignoring everything else going through her mind. “And I’m glad that you do, too.”
Tipp nodded. “I really d-do. You can c-count on me whenever you’re not here—I look after her a-almost as well as you do.”
“Better, I’ll bet,” Kiva said, reaching out to brush his floppy red fringe to the side. “I’m sure you’re her favorite. By far.”
Tipp grinned. “Well, I d-didn’t want to say anything ...”
Kiva laughed and moved back to her samples.
She hadn’t returned to the tunnels that afternoon, instead lingering in the infirmary after Tilda fell asleep, waiting to see if she would wake up lucid again.
But as anticipated, the ill woman had slipped back into her delirium.
Kiva had spent the waiting period testing the rats, as she normally would have done the following day, but since the Ordeal was tomorrow, she didn’t want to risk wasting any time.
Kiva intended to make a quick trip down to the tunnels with Naari in the morning to collect her final samples, returning before the Trial. The timing would be tight, with them needing to be back at the infirmary for Kiva’s summons, but she was confident they’d be able to sneak it in.
When the next morning arrived, however, her plans were derailed by the announcement that a prison wagon had just arrived, carrying new inmates.
As the first point of call for them, Kiva had to remain in the infirmary to check them over and carve their hands, all of which took time, preventing her from collecting her final samples.
The only positive was that the new arrivals also kept Kiva distracted, and, aside from making sure to ingest Mot’s foul-tasting potion, she was barely aware of the minutes ticking down to her Ordeal.
There were four prisoners in total, three men, one woman, all different ages and colorings, hailing from across Wenderall.
Each was in good enough health that Kiva knew they hadn’t been transported very far on the most recent leg of their journey, not while there were still nearly four weeks left of winter.
As it was, Kiva was surprised by their arrival.
Only Jaren, his two dead companions, and, later, Tilda had been transported to Zalindov since the weather turned—plus the royal entourage for the first Ordeal, but they didn’t count, since their travel comfort was considerably different from what the prisoners experienced.
One by one, the new arrivals were shuffled over to Kiva, and she checked them, carved them, and sent them on their way, as she had done for years. Tipp remained with her, fetching her clean water and handing her pepperoot ash, then helping them all into their new prison clothes.
Only the woman dared to say anything to Kiva, grumbling that they’d been forced to make the frozen journey because every dungeon they’d tried to stop at along the way had been filled to capacity.
She’d barely gotten the words out before Kiva hushed her, since it wasn’t Naari who had delivered the news of their arrival, nor was the amber-eyed woman in the infirmary watching over them.
Instead, both Bones and the Butcher were lingering by the door, their silent menace filling the space and urging Kiva to hurry.