The Prison Healer

She shrugged and looked away. It was answer enough.

“I’m sorry, Kiva.”

Three words, said in his low, gentle voice, and they were nearly her undoing

In the last decade she’d only managed to hear snippets of what was happening beyond Zalindov’s walls. When she’d first arrived at the prison, the rebel movement had been little more than a group of impassioned nomads searching for their long-lost queen, whispering about how she had a legitimate claim to the throne of Evalon—treasonous words with grave consequences for those caught by the Royal Guard. It was only after Kiva’s imprisonment that she heard their queen had come out of hiding and was now leading their cause, seeking one thing: vengeance. Not justice, not a chance to debate why the crown belonged to her. No, the Rebel Queen wanted revenge for all that had been taken from her. For all that she’d lost. For the kingdom and its power that should have been hers at birth.

“Which block is he allocated to?”

“Seven. Second floor.”

Kiva gritted her teeth and headed that way. Of course he was assigned to the same cell block as she. At least they were on different floors, with him being a level above her.