Zarrah went still, her mind reeling. Only the worst of criminals were supposed to be sent to this place, and even they had a trial. The idea that her aunt was sending civilians who spoke against her to endure this kind of torture was … unconscionable.
Seeming to sense her thought, Daria said, “Didn’t know that little tidbit of information, I take it?
Valcotta is ruled by a woman who can’t stand to hear anything but adoration, so she permanently silences anyone who criticizes her. Those who remain learn to hold their tongues, and the effect is that all come to believe the lie.” She huffed out an amused breath. “But not the rebellion. We see her villainy, and she can send as many of us to her hellhole as she wants—we won’t stop fighting. Won’t stop surviving. Not until she’s in the goddamned grave.”
It was as if the floodgates had been opened on Daria’s mouth, and she jumped to her feet, pacing back and forth. “Hundreds of people have been sent here for no other reason but that they spoke their minds, Zarrah. That’s on top of the thousands Petra’s soldiers have murdered without just cause.”
That was impossible. Not because she didn’t believe her aunt capable of it at this point, but how could so many have been incarcerated beneath Zarrah’s nose? She’d been a commanding officer, a general, privy to all the secrets of the empire, and she’d never heard a word of this before.
Or had she?
Daria’s words unearthed the conversation Zarrah had overheard between Silas and Serin the night she’d intended to assassinate Silas in his tower, the men’s voices filling her head.
You promised me an update on the rebels contesting Petra’s rule.
Serin’s nasal voice had answered, They’ve pressed north out of their strongholds in the deep south, though their primary weapon is one Petra uses so adeptly herself.
Propaganda. Or murder?
She shook her head to clear the memory in time to hear Daria ask, “Where were you stationed?”
“Nerastis.”
“So you’ve been fighting the Maridrinians day in and day out, right? That means you’ve drunk deepest from her poisoned cup. That you believe the Veliants are the demons all of Valcotta must unite And all of it had to arrive at the beach. Zarrah’s skin prickled as she remembered that amphitheatre against, and the Empress the bastion against them. She needs them to be the villains so that she can be the savior, and she’ll sacrifice hundreds of soldiers, thousands of soldiers, to the Endless War to ensure that never changes.”
Zarrah drew in a ragged breath, turning her gaze to the embers of the flame because Daria’s anger was infectious. Like oil dumped on the fires of Zarrah’s own rage. Anger at her aunt, but anger at herself for having been a pawn in her aunt’s reign of terror for so long.
“So yes, Zarrah,” Daria’s voice cut into her thoughts, “we do need fighters to war against Kian and his tribe to stay alive. But it’s more than that. The rebellion is going to free us one day, and when that day comes, we need every sword, every knife, every spear we can muster to put Petra Anaphora in the grave.”
wasn’t enough to check defiance, so she started sending us here.” She waved a hand around the camp.
place, and even they had a trial. The idea that her aunt was sending civilians who spoke against her to silences anyone who criticizes her. Those who remain learn to hold their tongues, and the effect is that
“So you’ve been fighting the Maridrinians day in and day out, right? That means you’ve drunk deepest from her poisoned cup. That you believe the Veliants are the demons all of Valcotta must unite against, and the Empress the bastion against them. She needs them to be the villains so that she can be the savior, and she’ll sacrifice hundreds of soldiers, thousands of soldiers, to the Endless War to ensure that never changes.”
Zarrah drew in a ragged breath, turning her gaze to the embers of the flame because Daria’s anger was infectious. Like oil dumped on the fires of Zarrah’s own rage. Anger at her aunt, but anger at herself for having been a pawn in her aunt’s reign of terror for so long.
“So yes, Zarrah,” Daria’s voice cut into her thoughts, “we do need fighters to war against Kian and his tribe to stay alive. But it’s more than that. The rebellion is going to free us one day, and when that day comes, we need every sword, every knife, every spear we can muster to put Petra Anaphora in the grave.”
THE ISLAND WAS far larger than any they’d sailed past on their journey through Ithicana.
Yet somehow far smaller than Keris had imagined.
“Eranahl Island, Your Majesty,” the captain said. “I’d advise not going closer until the
Ithicanians make contact. It’s their territory.”
Keris glanced up at the white flag flying beneath the Maridrinian banner, the wind snapping the fabric with such violence, it was a miracle neither tore loose. Above both of them flew a narrow strip of purple indicating he sailed aboard the ship. It was meant to be a signal according the vessel right of way, yet it felt something akin to painting a target on his back.
Much as he’d painted one on Sarhina’s.
“Our brothers will see you as an easy mark,” he’d reminded his half sister before he’d stepped aboard the ship. “Watch your back. And Sara’s—if I find out one of our brothers has taken her, there will be hell to pay.”
Sarhina had not so much as blinked. “It’s not our brothers who concern me.” She tilted her head, and his eyes flicked to where the majority of the harem gathered together, seeing him off. Lestara
stood at their head, her face the smooth mask that politicians wore only when hiding extreme emotion.
“She’s going to be a problem.”
“I don’t see how,” he answered, glad that Lestara had dropped the issue of the book. “What is she going to say? That I refused to make her queen above the rest? Either way, she’s your problem for the time being.”
“Along with all the others you’ve dumped in my lap,” Sarhina muttered. “You owe me, Keris.”
He struggled not to smile. “I don’t owe you anything. You can’t wait for me to leave so that you can get to enacting your own personal agenda for the kingdom.”
“True.” She smirked. “So quit pissing around and get gone.”
Given the anticipation thrumming through his veins, Keris didn’t bother responding, only turned on his heel and strode up the gangplank.
“Keris!”
Sarhina’s voice cut the air, and he paused to look over his shoulder.
“Lara has a tendency of allowing her emotions to take precedence over reason. I’d suggest sending someone who is not you in to smooth her feathers before risking your own neck.”
“I can handle Lara,” he answered, then boarded his ship.
The bravado he’d felt in that moment had long since disappeared, but there was no turning back now. “Ready a longboat.”
“Your Majesty,” the captain protested. “We dare not. You can see the shipbreakers and those manning them from here.” He gestured to the tops of the cliffs rising out of the sea. “The Ithicanians have very good aim.”
“Aren isn’t going to throw rocks at me,” Keris answered, taking in the swaths of new growth on the slopes of the volcano, the jungle slowly erasing the damage inflicted during the siege.