by Lynette Noni
She’d known he would say as much, but she’d had to offer.
“I won’t stop you from going,” Raz continued, his voice lowering, as if he feared the Warden would hear. “You of all people deserve a chance at freedom.”
A renewed surge of emotion welled in Kiva, but she shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time, not when she had to focus on escaping, and then on everything that came next. “If you truly mean that,” she said, “can I ask for one last favor?”
Raz sighed, already knowing what she was going to request. “Be quick about it.” He jerked his head to where Naari and Jaren were coaxing a pair of horses toward the harness, the latter wincing with pain but working swiftly despite his injuries.
Aware that she was short on time, Kiva carefully lowered Tipp onto a hay bale, then searched the area for a scrap of parchment and something to write with. Finding nothing, she looked to Raz, but he made a helpless gesture. Clenching her teeth, Kiva ripped a patch from the bottom of her filthy tunic, dipped her finger in the wet blood coating her body, and began to pen her final letter as a prisoner of Zalindov.
“We’re ready to—what are you doing?”
Jaren’s voice was close enough that Kiva jumped, the last symbol of her coded note smudging across the material, but it was still legible.
“I’m writing to my family,” she answered, seeing no point in lying. She was about to tell him more, to explain about Raz playing messenger for years, but Naari called out to them, warning them to move faster, so Kiva tore her gaze from Jaren and handed the bloodied material to the stablemaster.
“Please get this to them as soon as you can.”
Kiva didn’t care whether he sent it off as it was or if he transposed her code onto parchment first, as long as her family received the message.
“I will,” Raz promised as she drew Tipp back up into her arms. “Take care, Kiva.”
“You too,” she whispered, before turning on her heel and following Jaren toward the carriage where Naari was waiting, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.
“Quick, get inside,” the guard said, leaping up front to drive them. “We need to pass through the perimeter fence before Rooke sends word to the guards there. We’ll be free after that—they won’t risk leaving their posts to chase us.”
Urgency thrummed between them as Naari prepared for them to leave and Jaren opened the carriage’s side door, holding a hand out to help Kiva. Together, they maneuvered Tipp inside, both panting when they were finally secured, with Jaren yelling out the window to Naari once they were ready to go. Seconds later, they were moving, bursting out of the stables and leaving Raz behind them, racing down the dirt road to their freedom.
Part of Kiva wanted to look back, just for a moment, to see if the Warden had retreated to the safety of his wall, watching the pandemonium far below. Or perhaps he was watching the small horse-drawn carriage as it passed safely through the perimeter fence and continued out of sight.
But she didn’t look back.
Not even for the man who had killed her father.
Zalindov was behind her now.
She was free.
Tears prickled her nose as realization swept over her, all that had just happened hitting her anew. Tilda’s death. Mot’s sacrifice. Everything that came before and after.
Glancing down, she rearranged Tipp in her lap, the young boy sleeping off what should have been a fatal wound, his gentle face at peace, oblivious to their escape. He had no idea that he wasn’t a prisoner anymore. When he woke up, he’d have a completely new life.
Just as Kiva would.
“What did you write to your family?” Jaren asked. He was sitting across from her, his hands holding his abdomen, his face deathly pale. But he was alive.
They both were.
Despite the odds, they’d survived.
And they were out.
“I let them know that I’m safe. That I’m free.” Kiva swallowed, looking down at Tipp, thinking of Tilda, whose body remained at the prison, and finished, “I told them where they can find me, if they want. That I’ll be in Vallenia. With you.”
The look Jaren sent her warmed the numbness that had overtaken her ever since she’d walked into the infirmary and found Tilda’s blood-soaked body.
Kiva would never recover from that moment, as long as she lived. But as the cold began to ease and she leaned back against the wagon, she called to mind the note she’d written, how she’d made sure it said everything her brother and sister needed to know. Even now, the code translated in her mind, repeating over and over:
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.
Acknowledgments
I don’t often use the word “marvel,” but that’s what I’ve been doing since the moment of The Prison Healer’s inception. I’ve marveled at how it’s come together, just as I’ve marveled over the people it has brought into my life.
To my agent, Danielle Burby, thank you for taking a risk based on a few sample pages I scrounged together on an airplane. You jumped straight into the deep end with me, adopting an author with so much baggage that I’m still surprised you didn’t run screaming for the hills. You are a wonder, and I’m forever grateful for your hard work, understanding, and general kickass-edness. Thanks also to Kristin Nelson for reading those rough early pages and knowing Danielle and I would be the perfect match—I’m so grateful that you’ve been on this adventure with us right from the very beginning.
To my wonderful editors, Emilia Rhodes and Zoe Walton—you guys are brilliant. Thank you for your clever insight and thoughtful guidance in transforming this book into something beyond what I could have ever imagined on my own. I’m so thrilled with how it evolved under your care, and more excited than ever for everything that’s coming next.
Big thanks to all the insanely talented people who worked on this manuscript editorially to shine it to perfection, in particular my copyeditor, Ana Deboo, and my proofreader, Ellen Fast—you’re both amazing! Thanks also to Jim Tierney for the stunning cover art (and the fantabulous code design), and to Francesca Baerald for the oh-my-gosh-I-can’t-stop-staring-at-them fantasy maps. *Heart eyes*
To the rest of the teams at HMH Teen (USA) and Penguin Random House (ANZ), thank you so much for embracing me and this series right from the very beginning. Squishy hugs and virtual cake to every single person who has had a hand in this process!
A huge amount of gratitude goes to my foreign rights agent, Jenny Meyer, for selling this series into numerous territories around the globe. I’m pretty sure you’re a genie who grants wishes, since, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve made magic happen. I’m also insanely grateful to my film agent, Mary Pender, and so looking forward to everything that’s ahead!
To my author friends who offer me advice, encouragement, and comradeship in this Scary Publishing World, thank youuuuu! There are too many of you to name, but special mention goes to Sarah J. Maas for putting up with my stalkerish texting at ridiculous hours of the day and night (hey, it’s not my fault we’re on opposites sides of the world!), and to Jessica Townsend for the let’s-be-quick-because-we’re-both-on-deadline breakfasts (which always end up lasting hours anyway—oops).
I absolutely must thank the first two people who ever read The Prison Healer, Anabel Pandiella and Paige Belfield. Thank you for your passion and enthusiasm and (violent) demands for the sequel. Your reactions were priceles
s. Big thanks also to my amazing friends who have been with me, near and far, while this book has been in process. I can’t wait to come up for air and celebrate life with you again (erm, once we can see each other—thanks, COVID, *sigh*).
I’ve been indescribably blessed by a loving God, and I’m so thankful that He’s been with me for every step of this journey. I’m also so grateful to have such a wonderful family, and I wouldn’t be where (or who) I am today without them. Thank you—all of you—for everything you are to me and everything you’ve done. This book is for you.
Last but not least, to my amazing readers, both those who have been following me for some time, and those who are new with this series: thank you. I can’t wait to show you the world beyond Zalindov. Brace yourselves, because Kiva’s journey has only just begun!
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About the Author
Author photo by Lucy Bell
Australian author LYNETTE NONI studied journalism, academic writing, and human behavior at university before venturing into the world of fiction. She is now a full-time writer and author of the #1 best-selling young adult fantasy series The Medoran Chronicles, along with the multi-award-winning and best-selling Whisper duology.
Learn more at lynettenoni.com
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