“I can smell the smoke from their fires,” Aren said, starting back down the trail. “Try to be quiet so that we can—”
Aren’s words cut off as he was jerked skyward, a loud crack filling the air.
Keris stumbled backward, gaping at Aren, who was tangled in some form of net. A trap.
Doing his best to remain silent, he waded inland but then hit the beach at a run, chasing Aren up the
“Cut me down, you idiot!”
Keris moved, grasping the netting and immediately recoiling. “This isn’t rope. It’s—”
“It’s gut,” Aren hissed. “Cut it. There’s a chance they heard their trap deploy.”
Reaching for the knife hidden in his boot, Keris abruptly froze as something sharp jabbed him in the back.
“Pretty faces,” a voice lisped. “We’d like to add them to our collection.”
There was no arguing that point, so Keris focused on calming his pounding heart. Wasted effort, for
been since that fateful moment on Southwatch. Yet as he took in the shadowed forest, the only sounds the roar of the water and the rustle of the wind through the branches, he felt further from her than he’d ever been. “It feels bigger than I’d thought it would be.”
Aren grunted in agreement. “You have that package I gave you? We need to signal the ship while it’s still dark.”
Keris dug into his coat, then made a face. “It’s gone. Lost it in the water.”
“Might be just as well. I’m not sure we want to draw attention to the island.” Aren rose from his crouch. “My bet is that the prisoners have formed at least one camp. We’ll pose as new convicts until we can find Zarrah, then wait for Lara to figure out a way to get us free. Keep your weapons hidden.”
Neither of them moved.
For his part, it was because Keris had no clue which way to go.
“Lost already, are you?”
He could feel the smirk on Aren’s face even if he couldn’t see it. “You’re the king of the jungle—
you lead the way.”
Aren laughed softly, then turned on his heel and walked without hesitation through the forest. Keris followed him, trying to curb the anticipation rising in his chest.
How would Zarrah react? There was a chance she’d follow through on her promise and kill him.
But she wouldn’t want to risk Aren, which he hoped would temper her reaction long enough for him to explain himself.
Just what, precisely, needs explaining? the voice in his head whispered. What can you say to her that hasn’t already been said?
I’ll tell her that I’m sorry, he answered. That I regret betraying her confidence. That I shouldn’t have burdened her with so many lives lost to spare hers.
The voice cackled in his head, wild and maniacal, like the Magpie’s laugh just before he jumped. A hollow apology, given that you are risking lives for her again.
It’s—
Keris broke off his internal argument with himself as his skin prickled. He glanced over his shoulder, searching the darkness for what had triggered his instincts. “Did you hear something?”
Aren paused. “All I hear is you. Do you think you can take one step without snapping a twig?”
“Price one pays for growing up civilized,” Keris muttered even as he hunted for motion. Hunted for eyes watching from the shadows. But there was nothing. “I … it’s nothing. Keep going.”
“I can smell the smoke from their fires,” Aren said, starting back down the trail. “Try to be quiet so that we can—”
Aren’s words cut off as he was jerked skyward, a loud crack filling the air.
Keris stumbled backward, gaping at Aren, who was tangled in some form of net. A trap.
“Cut me down, you idiot!”
Keris moved, grasping the netting and immediately recoiling. “This isn’t rope. It’s—”
“It’s gut,” Aren hissed. “Cut it. There’s a chance they heard their trap deploy.”
Reaching for the knife hidden in his boot, Keris abruptly froze as something sharp jabbed him in the back.
“Pretty faces,” a voice lisped. “We’d like to add them to our collection.”
“LET’S GET YOU fed, girl.” Kian and his soldiers led her into their camp, which was larger and better appointed than that of the rebels.
No, not rebels. Cannibals.
Kian dug into a barrel, discarding sacks of rice in favor of a package of salted meat. The idea of eating made her want to gag, but Zarrah took the jerky she was handed and, after determining it was beef, forced herself to eat, abruptly reminded of how unenthused Daria had always seemed when eating. Why hadn’t she seen the signs? Why hadn’t she asked questions?
Because you didn’t want to know.
“We’ll get you set up with your own tent,” Kian said. “Ain’t no one will hurt you here, no matter what Daria told you. That was one of the conditions—you were to be kept unharmed and well cared for, or the deal was off. You got no reason to trust me, but you can trust that. ”
A clever plan, using the prisoners’ desire for freedom to protect her, and one she wished to know more about. But given the contentious beginnings of her interactions with Kian, going straight to the topic might not be the right tactic.
Zarrah paused in her chewing, though her stomach growled for more of the beef jerky in her hand.
“How long have you been on this island?”
“Ten years.” Someone threw a log on the fire, illuminating Kian’s face. “Another life. But you’ll not be here that long.”
He was being kind, but what Daria had told her about him lurked in the back of Zarrah’s mind. This man was very much a villain, so all she could trust was that he wouldn’t jeopardize his own chance at freedom.
“You’re wondering what I did to get here?” Kian grinned, revealing his mouthful of gold teeth. “It’s every bit as bad as you might think, no sense denying that, but …” He sighed. “Everyone on this island has done awful things, Zarrah. The worst of things. If you put too much thought to the sort of humanity you’re now surrounded with, you’ll drive yourself to madness. Better to think upon how those here act now, as though each individual is an entirely separate person from the one the Empress condemned.”
There was reason to the advice, but Zarrah couldn’t help but say, “Fair enough, but if what Daria said was true, you and yours do plenty that’s worth judgement.”
Kian grunted, then gave a slow nod. “This is a prison, love. To live as we did before, raising families and caring for our weak, is impossible. Daria and her lot refused to accept that, choosing instead to resort to the worst means to survive rather than deny themselves what they felt was their due. Sacrificing their humanity in order to have everything they wanted. Whereas we deny ourselves and suffer the pain of loss so that we might know ourselves human and not monster.”
The old argument of sacrificing the few to save the many that Zarrah had never much cared for, but having seen the alternative, it was hard to deny. Just as there was no denying that her aunt used this island not just as a prison but as a torture chamber.
Crash!
Zarrah tensed at the noise, which had come from the forest. Shouts emanated from the same