The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer, #1)

by Lynette Noni

Zalindov showed no mercy, not even to the innocent. Especially not to the innocent.

Never forget, little mouse: no two people look the same, but we are each beautiful in our own ways. The human body is a masterpiece that deserves our respect. Always.

“It’s believed that she’s Tilda Corentine,” the guard said. “The Rebel Queen.”

I’d rather you wish for brains or loyalty or courage, my sweet girl. Magic is dangerous, and those who have it are forever looking over their shoulders.

“As is the way of humans, those with great power risk succumbing to it,”

Drawing in a wobbly breath, Kiva straightened her shoulders and looked beyond the guards to the masked prince and princess, declaring in a loud voice the only words that could keep Tilda alive. “My name is Kiva Meridan, and I claim her sentence as my own.”

“I asked what you think when you look at Tilda. You see a woman, Rebel Queen or otherwise. But I look at her and see someone who is deathly ill and needs my help.” Kiva returned her gaze to the bed, continuing to provide the only justification Tipp would accept, with him having known her long enough to see it as truth. “She represents everyone I’ve tried to save over the years. Everyone I’ve failed to save over the years. It’s not just one life to me—it’s all of them, and they all matter.”

“I have a lot of dreams. A lot of nightmares, too. Only time will tell which path my life will take.”

People—especially men—could react poorly if they thought their intelligence was being criticized.

So you’re right, you don’t need me fighting your battles.” He moved a step closer, his tone husky as he finished, “But . . . if you’ll let me, I’d like to be standing beside you as you fight them.”

“But things happen in life that you don’t expect, that you can’t plan for and you’re helpless to stop. Their story didn’t end as it should have. But I know for a fact that they’d live it all over again, even the ending, as long as it meant they could keep their beginning.” But, Papa, the endings are the best part. Sometimes, sweetheart. But other times, the beginnings are.

It was only when she’d cried her last that sleep finally found her, and she drifted off wrapped in Jaren’s embrace, feeling safe and protected for the first time in years.

Hope was a drug, and Kiva an addict. She couldn’t keep believing, couldn’t keep trusting, couldn’t keep hoping.

I can survive this, Kiva told herself, her inner voice wobbling in the face of what stood before her. And yet she was determined to fight, to live, until the very end. I will survive this.

“Never apologize for loving someone. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.”

You didn’t deserve to die, and it was within my power to keep you alive. So I did.”

Mother is dead. I’m on my way to Vallenia. It’s time to reclaim our kingdom. And as Kiva combed her fingers through Tipp’s hair, the boy still fast asleep on her lap, she glanced up to meet Jaren’s blue-gold eyes once more, his gaze impossibly soft. She smiled shyly back, offering no indication as to who he was leading to his city . . . who he was welcoming into his home. Kiva Meridan. Born as Kiva Corentine. The Rebel Queen may have perished at Zalindov, but her daughter was alive and well, and free of Zalindov after ten long years. The Rebel Princess was finally ready to rise.