The Blood Traitor (The Prison Healer, #3) — Chapter no 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Pain.

Blood.

Yelling.

Silence.

For seconds, minutes, hours, days, Kiva knew nothing, floating in a sea of oblivion, her eyelids fluttering open and closed, each time revealing someone different.

Jaren, Tipp, Cresta, Torell, Naari, Ashlyn.

They spoke with her, begged and pleaded, but she couldn’t comprehend their words, couldn’t return them. She wanted to feel relief that they were there, that they’d survived the battle. But she also wanted them to be quiet so she could fall back into her blissful nothingness, where there was no

pain, no fighting, no fear.

Just peace.

Other faces hovered over her, unfamiliar people dressed in white robes and smelling too clean, coming and going while murmuring in low, worried voices. Only one she recognized, a dark-skinned elderly woman with a kind face behind wire-framed spectacles. Something about her was soothing, reassuring. But Kiva’s dreamlike state meant she couldn’t remember why.

A hand was holding hers.

Lips were touching her cheek.

Blue-gold eyes were staring down at her.

A broken voice was whispering in her ear, telling her how loved she

was, telling her to hold on.

Jaren.

She wanted to comfort him. To wipe away his tears.

But the darkness claimed her again.

And this time, it kept her.