The carpet of nettles kept her footsteps silent as she traversed the narrow trail, moving slowly in deference to the faint light, but it wasn’t long until she could pick out the glow of torchlight.
Daria was no fool, which meant that whatever they were doing, there would be guards. Stepping off the trail, Zarrah moved from shadow to shadow.
There.
Leaning against a tree was a lean form. Saam, she suspected, given the individual was picking at his nails with a knife, the blade catching the faint light. Dropping low, she eased past him and pressed closer to the torchlight.
The scrape of a shovel against rocky soil reached her.
They were digging graves. Daria hadn’t mentioned anyone dying in the raid, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. Though if that were the case, why be so covert about burying the body? Zarrah crested the lip of the hollow and rested her elbows on the ground as she looked over the graveyard.
Daria and another man were digging, a large pile of rocky earth already piled to one side of the grave. Yet instead of adding to her relief, the sight pulled a frown to Zarrah’s forehead, because they weren’t digging a new grave.
They were digging up an old one.
There was a loud thunk of metal hitting wood, and Daria gave a slight nod. “There it is.”
Zarrah watched in silence as they slowed their digging, working their rudimentary shovels around whatever they’d uncovered before Daria dropped to her knees. Reaching into the hole, she grasped hold of something and heaved. Zarrah tensed, but all the other woman removed was what looked like the lid of a supply barrel.
Did they use them as coffins? That made no sense, given there were no animals on this island to dig up a grave.
“Can fit one more. Maybe two, if we’re lucky. Get the salt.”
Two men came from the opposite side of the hollow, carrying something between them. A corpse.
Yet as the torchlight illuminated the form, bile surged up Zarrah’s throat.
Not a corpse. A carcass that had been field dressed like game.
Frozen in horror, Zarrah watched as they stuffed the carcass into the barrel and then dumped in sacks of salt.
Sweat dripped down her brow to splatter against the back of her hand as she watched the other body be carried into the clearing.
“Cut off what we need,” Daria ordered. “But chop it up small and cook it here before bringing it back. She can’t know, or we’ll lose her.”
Blood drained from Zarrah’s face as realization sank into her soul. They hadn’t rescued her from Kian; they’d trapped her. Cared for her like … like livestock. Kian had been right.
She needed to run. Needed to get away while she could.
There is no escape.
Panic flooded her veins, and Zarrah shifted backward, needing to run. Needing to hide.
Crack! A branch broke beneath her foot.
She froze.
Except with every step she took, Zarrah saw clues that she’d previously turned a blind eye toward.
It was too late.
Faces snapped in her direction, Daria’s eyes cutting the darkness to lock with Zarrah’s, then widening in alarm. “Zarrah—”
She was already hurling herself up the slope.
Branches slapped her face, roots catching at her toes and nearly sending her toppling, but Zarrah didn’t slow. Couldn’t slow, because now that their secret was out, what were the chances they’d leave her alive?
Given she’d just watched them stuff two butchered men into barrels to salt cure, her guess was no chance at all.
“Zarrah! Zarrah, wait!” Footsteps pounded behind her, Daria and her warriors pursuing hard. “Let me explain!”
his nails with a knife, the blade catching the faint light. Dropping low, she eased past him and pressed What possible explanation could there be? What words existed that justified what these monsters consumed?
Zarrah put on a burst of speed. The air burned her lungs, a cramp biting her side, but she ignored the pain. Kian was waiting at the border; all she needed to do was make it across. It would be into the arms of a new devil, one whose horrors were yet unknown, but it couldn’t be worse than this.
Nothing was worse than this.
Her toe caught.
Zarrah sprawled, her small knife spinning out of her hand and into the darkness. Panicked, she pawed the forest floor, searching for it.
But the footsteps were coming closer.
Were nearly upon her.
A snarl of frustration and fear tore from her lips, but even with the blade, she wouldn’t be able to fight them all. Her only chance was to escape.
Hands clawing the dirt, she dragged herself upward. Racing toward the summit of the island.
“Zarrah!” Daria’s voice was shrill. “Don’t do it! Don’t cross over! We won’t be able to get you Did they use them as coffins? That made no sense, given there were no animals on this island to digback!”
She didn’t waste breath on a response.
Ahead, she spotted the faint light of torches. Kian, now in the company of his warriors, was waiting. And she was almost at the border.
“Zarrah!”
She could feel hands reaching for her. Their breath on the back of her neck.
Screaming, Zarrah flung herself toward the stone barrier. Pain lanced across her kneecaps as they struck, but then she was rolling. Clawing at the dirt to get herself as far from these monsters as she could.
Legs and feet filled her vision, Kian and his men surrounding her.
“Back off, Daria,” Kian roared. “If you violate our border, it will be war.”
Gasping for breath, Zarrah pushed herself upright and found the two tribes at a standoff to either side of the border, weapons glittering in the torchlight. Daria alone held no weapon, her eyes locking on Zarrah’s. “You weren’t meant to see that. You were never meant to know.”
“No shit.” Zarrah spat out the dirt she’d gotten in her mouth. “Those who know they’re prey tend to fight back.”
“No.” Daria gave a rapid shake of her head. “That’s never the fate of one of our own, no matter how bad it gets. No matter how hollow our bellies, we’d never do that to one of our own.”
“She ain’t your own, rebel,” Kian retorted. “She’s a royal—one of the very people you were trying to overthrow with your little coup down south. It’s no wonder you were fattening her up for the grill.
Enemies taste twice as sweet, don’t they?”
Daria took a step closer to the wall, everyone tensing. She froze, then said, “She was never in any danger from us. You’ve filled her head with lies when you know that you are the reason that we do
what we do.”
Do what they do. Visions of the slaughtered men being stuffed into barrels flashed through Zarrah’s eyes, and her fury burned hot. “Stay away from me!” She scrambled to her feet. “You eat people.
You’re a fucking cannibal—a monster!”
Daria flinched. “Not by choice. It was that or starve.”
“Better to starve!”
“Says the woman who has never gone without!” Daria’s hands fisted. “You know we don’t belong here. You know that the Empress put us in this place to silence those who contest her tyranny. You know that she relishes the knowledge that we suffer, that we must reduce ourselves to beasts in order to survive.”