“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking —” Kiva broke off when she recognized the head of Silverthorn.
“Miss Meridan, what a nice surprise,” Healer Maddis said warmly. “I was hoping to see you again.”
“I, um, hello,” Kiva said, uncomfortably aware that she’d nearly plowed down the elderly woman.
“Have you made a decision about your studies?” Maddis asked, pushing wire-framed spectacles up her nose.
“I — well —” It was on the tip of her tongue to say she wasn’t interested, but she knew her lie would be unconvincing. “I’m still thinking about it,” Kiva finally said.
Maddis smiled with understanding. “Take as long as you need. As I said the other day, the offer will remain open.”
Kiva swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The matron removed her glasses and placed them in the pocket of her white healer’s robe. “If you didn’t come to speak with me, what brings you to Silverthorn?”
“Healer Rhessinda summoned me,” Kiva said. She pointed to the bruise on the side of her face. “I’m guessing she wants to see how I’m feeling.”
“Oh dear,” Maddis said, gently turning Kiva’s chin to the side. “That must have been a nasty bump.”
“The swelling went down fast,” Kiva said, “but it’s still tender to the touch.”
“Who did you say treated you? Healer Lucinda?”
“Rhessinda,” Kiva corrected.
Maddis considered for a moment, before she offered an apologetic shrug. “I used to know all of our healers, but there are so many now, and I’m not as good with names as I once was. Lucinda, Rhessinda, Jacinda, Melinda — they all blur together, I’m afraid. It’s a peril of growing older, but not the worst, I’ll admit.” Her dark face lit with self-deprecating humor as she waved a hand down her aging body. “Once everything decides to move south, it’s all downhill from there. Something for you to look forward to.”
Kiva couldn’t help chuckling.
“Someone at reception will be able to help you find her,” Maddis went on, gesturing to the infirmary Kiva had already been heading toward. The healer’s attention was then snagged by a white-robed group lying on the grass, their faces tinged a sickly green. With a long-suffering sigh, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with some of the novices about their behavior at the festival last night.”
With a pat on the shoulder, Maddis left Kiva standing on the path, but not before turning back to call, “I’ll look forward to hearing once you’ve made your decision.”
Kiva said nothing, not wanting to let the Matron Healer down. Not wanting to let herself down. But now wasn’t the time — there were too many other things she needed to focus on. Her own desires would have to wait.
Right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams.
Jaren’s words to the Royal Council echoed in her mind, but Kiva closed her heart to them. Even if she made the selfish decision to put herself first, the scar on her hand would forever mark her as a criminal. No patient would ever trust her, no healing academy would ever accept her. One close look was all it would take for Maddis to rescind her offer.
And yet . . .
Kiva sighed, Jaren’s words burrowing deep despite her best efforts to ignore them. Try as she might, she wasn’t ready to give up on her dreams.
Because dreams were all she had.
Dreams where her family was safe and happy and living the life they deserved.
Dreams where she studied at Silverthorn and was able to help those who needed her, bringing comfort where there was suffering, light where there was darkness, and hope when all hope was lost.
Dreams where she and Jaren —
No.
She knew better than to dream about Jaren.
“Hey, over here!”
Kiva looked up to see that she’d been walking blindly along the path toward the infirmary, only to discover Rhessinda sitting on a bench in the sanctuary and waving at her.
Passing through one of the stone archways, Kiva approached the young healer, the grass soft underfoot, the smells of lilac and lavender from the nearby shrubbery tickling her nose.
“I got your message,” Kiva said, taking a seat when Rhess patted the wood beside her.
While her white robes were spotless, the healer’s ashy hair was again in a messy bun, a few tendrils hanging loose around her face. “How’s the head?” she asked, her russet eyes examining the bruise much like Maddis had done.