Her brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages, the creases deepening. Keris watched his half
“Everyone wants to take my crown, Sarhina,” Keris answered. “The difference is that while they all want to replace me on the throne, you want to replace the throne itself.”
Silence stretched, and it was a struggle not to hold his breath.
His half sister finally gave a slow nod. “Fine. I’ll hold your crown for you, but it will be on three conditions, the first being that my sisters join me. This role will paint a target on my back, and I do need to sleep on occasion.”
Keris shrugged. “Seems like your business, not mine.”
Lifting a hand, Sarhina snapped her fingers. Keris tensed as the shadows in the corners of his room moved, a black-clad woman appearing. She lowered her veil, revealing hair so blond it was nearly ideas? Despite the fact that if such a change came to pass, you’d cease to hold any meaningful power?
white and a face he recognized from the night of the escape. He ran through the list of descriptions of his sisters, then settled on a name.
“As to power … it’s a burden I’d gladly shirk if not for the fact that doing so would likely require my
“Good evening, Athena,” he said, the dark smile she gave him moderately unnerving. “And the second?”
Hands closed on his shoulders and Keris jerked, twisting his head to find a tall brunette woman smirking where she stood behind him. Bronwyn. “The second is that you get Lara’s permission for me to join her in Eranahl,” Bronwyn said. “The Veliant sisters take care of their own, and Aren Kertell hasn’t impressed us in the past. I want to ensure he’s treating her as she deserves.”
Keris considered Bronwyn’s request for no more than a heartbeat before turning back to Sarhina.
“Fine. And the third?”
“You tell us the name of the woman you’re risking everything for.”
Keris’s stomach dropped. Not only because of the accuracy of the question, but because every time someone learned about his relationship with Zarrah, they died. Otis. Coralyn. God help him, even the fucking Magpie.
He chewed the inside of his cheeks, debating how to answer. Easy enough to lie. To say it had nothing to do with a woman or give a fabricated name, except there was something in the tension that sang from Sarhina’s form, her hand near the knife, that told him she’d see through every deception.
will go to shit in my absence. No one to keep the harem from pursuing their own goals, no one to keep “Zarrah Anaphora. She’s been imprisoned on Devil’s Island, and I need to break her free.”
Sarhina smiled, and then inclined her head. “We have an accord.”
she wasn’t the one chosen to go to Ithicana was undoubtedly by design. Backbone of steel, will not
“As regent, you’d have the power to begin the process of healing Maridrina.” He rested his elbows Lifting a hand, Sarhina snapped her fingers. Keris tensed as the shadows in the corners of his room
white and a face he recognized from the night of the escape. He ran through the list of descriptions of his sisters, then settled on a name.
“Good evening, Athena,” he said, the dark smile she gave him moderately unnerving. “And the second?”
Hands closed on his shoulders and Keris jerked, twisting his head to find a tall brunette woman smirking where she stood behind him. Bronwyn. “The second is that you get Lara’s permission for me to join her in Eranahl,” Bronwyn said. “The Veliant sisters take care of their own, and Aren Kertell hasn’t impressed us in the past. I want to ensure he’s treating her as she deserves.”
Keris considered Bronwyn’s request for no more than a heartbeat before turning back to Sarhina.
“Fine. And the third?”
“You tell us the name of the woman you’re risking everything for.”
Keris’s stomach dropped. Not only because of the accuracy of the question, but because every time someone learned about his relationship with Zarrah, they died. Otis. Coralyn. God help him, even the fucking Magpie.
He chewed the inside of his cheeks, debating how to answer. Easy enough to lie. To say it had nothing to do with a woman or give a fabricated name, except there was something in the tension that sang from Sarhina’s form, her hand near the knife, that told him she’d see through every deception.
“Zarrah Anaphora. She’s been imprisoned on Devil’s Island, and I need to break her free.”
Sarhina smiled, and then inclined her head. “We have an accord.”
FOR ALL THE dangerous men and women on the island, Zarrah swiftly learned that they were not the real reapers.
It was hunger.
“You only eat what you can trap, kill, or forage,” Daria instructed. “I catch you taking from anyone else, I’ll cut off your hand. Catch you doing it again, I’ll cut your throat, understood?”
There was nothing to do but nod. “What is there to hunt?”
“Birds, if you’re good with a spear. Fish, once you’ve made yourself a net to lower into the spiral.
Whatever grubs and insects and worms you can dig from the ground, though the season for that is ending.”
That couldn’t be enough, not for this many people.
“How often do the guards supply us?” Zarrah asked as they reentered the camp, which was empty but for women with small children and those who stood guard around the perimeter.
The prisoners who’d joined the tour dispersed, but Daria motioned Zarrah to follow. The other woman flopped down next to a low-burning fire, holding her hands over the embers. “They send
barrels down the spiral. Never the same times or intervals, and they’ve been known to withhold supplies for weeks if they are in the mood. There’s no sport on the island if all are fed.”
And all of it had to arrive at the beach. Zarrah’s skin prickled as she remembered that amphitheatre of horror, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, the thin fabric of her shirt doing little to ward off the chill. “Given Kian’s tribe holds the beach, I take it that he gets all the supplies, which is why you want fighters? To steal what you need from them?”
“Not just a pretty face, are you, Zarrah?” Daria rested her chin on her knees. “We send watchers and scouts into the north half to keep an eye out for supply drops, but it’s dangerous work. Kian’s tribe patrols, and there are traps set by Flay and Butcher and Ladyfingers. We prefer to raid when the opportunity allows and take what we can. They used to do the same to us, but the bitch on the throne gave us a fresh crop of rebels, and now we’re up numbers on Kian, which is why he didn’t cross the border last night despite being better armed.”
“Rebels?”
“Nearly every person in this camp, excluding yourself, contests Petra’s rule.” The corner of Daria’s mouth turned up in a half smile. “Many of us were captured spying or in skirmishes and raids in the south. Her soldiers used to just kill anyone they caught, but the bitch figured out quick that it wasn’t enough to check defiance, so she started sending us here.” She waved a hand around the camp.
“Half those they dump in the spiral are just civilians who made the mistake of saying the wrong thing about Her Most Kind and Benevolent Imperial Majesty.” Daria spat into the flames. “Petra is as coldblooded as a crocodile but without its mercy.”