The Prison Healer (The Prison Healer, #1)

by Lynette Noni

“The woman you’ve sentenced is deathly ill, unable to stand on her own, let alone attempt today’s Ordeal. You’ve traveled a long way to be entertained, Princess. Rather than ask my reasons, why don’t you just sit back and enjoy the show, as intended?”

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

“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.

Her family was waiting for her. They were coming for her. She knew it, like she knew her own name. One day they would be together again. She refused to allow her story to end before that day came.

Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never lose hope, he’d whispered to her in this very spot, kneeling before the goldenroot. Your brother and sister, your mother—his voice had cracked then—they will come for you, one day. Don’t you mean us, Papa? They’ll come for us? Faran had reached out and brushed his fingers along her cheekbone. Of course, sweetheart. That’s what I meant.

The stomach sickness—it had happened before. Nine years ago. Dozens dead. Hundreds. . . . Including, eventually, her father.

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

Promise me, little mouse, her father had whispered, their very first night together in Zalindov. Promise me that you’ll never do it again. But, Papa, your hand was bleeding. You were hurt. It doesn’t matter, he’d told her urgently. You know why I’ve been teaching you the healing craft, you know why it’s so important, why you have to keep learning. So that no one ever finds out, Kiva said dutifully. That’s right, sweetheart, Faran said, kissing her cheek. You have to stop. You can’t risk it, not in here. Not even for me. But— I mean it, Kiva. Promise me, Faran said firmly. Promise me that, as long as you’re in here, no matter what, no matter who, you’ll never, ever do it again.