Zarrah shivered, for there was a certain madness in both behaviors.
“In truth, those who try are only hastening their end, because there isn’t an inch of the cliff tops that the guards don’t watch,” Daria continued. “Day and night. Night and day. Rain or snow or sun, they watch.” Lifting her hands, she screamed “Pig fuckers” at the next guard post.
never see him coming.” She glanced sideways at Zarrah. “Unless you’re of a mind to join Kian, don’t These guards only laughed, and though logically Zarrah knew that every criminal in this place deserved to be here, her hands still curled into fists because it felt as though they laughed at her, too.
Zarrah nodded, though as she dug through her memory, what she dredged up was that Kian had been She moved her attention to the next guard post. To continue their circuit of the island, they’d have to cross the low wall of stones she’d tripped over in her flight from the other group of prisoners.
The barrier between territories.
Instead of crossing it, Daria cut inland, the wall now on her right rather than the plunge to the sea, but Zarrah didn’t miss how the woman’s tension grew. As though what lay past that wall was infinitely more dangerous than a fall into a whirlpool down to hell. The other warriors grew equally wary, their weapons held at the ready, eyes skimming the trees on the far side of the cut line.
“How many …” Zarrah trailed off as she searched for an appropriate term, then decided on,
“organized groups are there on the island?”
Daria snorted in amusement. “You mean gangs? Two. Though we call them tribes. There are also the lone wolves, who are the true death dealers on this island. Monsters who do things that would strip the breath from the devil’s chest. You get caught by Flay or Butcher or Ladyfingers, find a way to end things yourself, and quickly.”
Zarrah swallowed hard because those names were familiar to her, as was the nature of their crimes. Monster was a weak word, and she was now imprisoned on the same island as them.
They’d nearly reached the summit of the island, the trees falling away completely as they
approached the barren stretch of land, allowing Zarrah time to truly take in the prison. Her eyes followed the gap of the ocean channel as it spiraled outward in three loops before reaching the sea.
Rope bridges connected each ring of rock, allowing the guards to move from the garrison at the pier to the innermost ring, the land naked of trees or brush or structures beyond a few rocky outcroppings.
“Is it truly a whirlpool?”
“Yep,” Daria answered. “Though it’s really more of a drain for those who don’t wish to endure their punishment any longer. I’d show you where the water goes under, but it’s in Kian’s territory. Not another place in the world like it.”
Zarrah shifted uneasily because there was nothing to stop either guard from shooting them, no cover Because Devil’s Island was not a creation of nature.
No, much like Ithicana’s bridge, this island was formed by the giant hands of a god for one purpose and one purpose alone.
To ensure those condemned to its shores would never, ever get out.
“Does that happen often?” Zarrah watched the other woman flip her fingers at the guards at the next
“Every time a tree grows tall enough,” Daria answered. “This place does strange things to the mind, and there are some who spend their days nurturing trees, waiting for them to grow tall enough, believing they will be delivered from this horror if only the tree will grow. More still who take great glee in cutting down said trees just before they reach that precious length.”
Zarrah shivered, for there was a certain madness in both behaviors.
“In truth, those who try are only hastening their end, because there isn’t an inch of the cliff tops that the guards don’t watch,” Daria continued. “Day and night. Night and day. Rain or snow or sun, they watch.” Lifting her hands, she screamed “Pig fuckers” at the next guard post.
These guards only laughed, and though logically Zarrah knew that every criminal in this place deserved to be here, her hands still curled into fists because it felt as though they laughed at her, too.
She moved her attention to the next guard post. To continue their circuit of the island, they’d have to cross the low wall of stones she’d tripped over in her flight from the other group of prisoners.
The barrier between territories.
Instead of crossing it, Daria cut inland, the wall now on her right rather than the plunge to the sea, but Zarrah didn’t miss how the woman’s tension grew. As though what lay past that wall was infinitely more dangerous than a fall into a whirlpool down to hell. The other warriors grew equally wary, their weapons held at the ready, eyes skimming the trees on the far side of the cut line.
“How many …” Zarrah trailed off as she searched for an appropriate term, then decided on,
“organized groups are there on the island?”
Daria snorted in amusement. “You mean gangs? Two. Though we call them tribes. There are also the lone wolves, who are the true death dealers on this island. Monsters who do things that would strip the breath from the devil’s chest. You get caught by Flay or Butcher or Ladyfingers, find a way to end things yourself, and quickly.”
Zarrah swallowed hard because those names were familiar to her, as was the nature of their crimes. Monster was a weak word, and she was now imprisoned on the same island as them.
They’d nearly reached the summit of the island, the trees falling away completely as they
approached the barren stretch of land, allowing Zarrah time to truly take in the prison. Her eyes followed the gap of the ocean channel as it spiraled outward in three loops before reaching the sea.
Rope bridges connected each ring of rock, allowing the guards to move from the garrison at the pier to the innermost ring, the land naked of trees or brush or structures beyond a few rocky outcroppings.
“Is it truly a whirlpool?”
“Yep,” Daria answered. “Though it’s really more of a drain for those who don’t wish to endure their punishment any longer. I’d show you where the water goes under, but it’s in Kian’s territory. Not another place in the world like it.”
Because Devil’s Island was not a creation of nature.
No, much like Ithicana’s bridge, this island was formed by the giant hands of a god for one purpose and one purpose alone.
To ensure those condemned to its shores would never, ever get out.
KERIS FROZE AS the blade angled, pressing hard enough that blood trickled down his throat but not hard enough to kill. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had so many women in my room.
Hopefully this encounter will prove more fruitful than the last.”
She chuckled softly. “A foolish hope, Your Grace. I’ve no taste for incest.”
Keris’s eyes narrowed. One of his half sisters, then. Undoubtedly one of the ones who trained with Lara in the Red Desert, which meant she was far more dangerous than any of his idiot brothers. His eyes flicked to the mirror, the reflection revealing a fair-skinned woman of average stature, her hair dark as night. Not one of the ones who’d been with Lara the night of the rescue, but given her coloring