“Yes.”
She made a noise that he couldn’t interpret, and, curiosity rising, Keris said, “Why? What did she say about me?” What he wanted to ask was whether Zarrah hated him. Whether she’d forgiven him.
Whether she still loved him as he loved her.
“That you have a big cock.”
His jaw dropped, and Daria took advantage, shoving the gag in and tying it around his head so that all he could do was stand there and stare at her.
Meeting his gaze, the woman said, “She said a lot of things, Your Grace, all of which you swiftly proved to be accurate. But on the very small chance you ever get to speak to her again, remember that she is not your queen. She is Valcotta’s empress. Treat her accordingly. Now walk.”
He started up the trail, moving over the bare space at the summit and stepping into Kian’s territory.
What had Zarrah said that he’d already proven? And what did she mean with the comment about him treating Zarrah like an empress and not his queen? And what had he done to give Zarrah cause to believe he no longer loved her?
“Focus, Your Grace,” Daria muttered as they descended the hill to the meeting spot. “None of what you are thinking is pressing.”
She was right, but it wasn’t the threat to his life that made his heart quicken with each step. It was that he was walking toward Zarrah. He’d be in her presence, even if it was only for a moment. A moment that he prayed would undo some of the hurt he’d caused.
Ahead, a clearing appeared, and on the far side of it, a crowd of figures. It was hard to see through the trees, but as they reached the clearing, his eyes found her familiar form.
Zarrah was on her knees, hands bound behind her back, and a gag in her mouth. Thin and dirty, and one of her eyes was swollen. But she was alive.
Slowly, she lifted her head, shock filling her dark gaze as she saw him, but it was swiftly replaced with horror. Zarrah screamed around her gag, thrashing and trying to get free of the men holding her arms. A big man with gold teeth kicked her in the back of the knees, the others pinning her to the ground. “Keep her quiet.”
Blistering rage filled Keris’s chest, his hands balling into fists behind his back, but he held his ground. He was meant to be Daria’s captive, and giving any indication that he was otherwise would signal to these prisoners that plots were afoot.
“You break her, we may have to reconsider this trade, Kian,” Daria shouted. “You might have a hard time proving His Royal Majesty’s identity if we invite Flay over to cut off his face.”
Kian reached down to grab Zarrah by the wrists, hauling her to her feet. Her eyes immediately locked on Keris’s, and she screamed what sounded like run.
“Don’t even think about it,” Daria snarled, jabbing him with her spear. “Let’s get this done, Kian.
Hand Zarrah over.”
“Run,” Zarrah screamed again around her mouthful of fabric. “Fight!”
He wished that were an option, but Daria hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that this wasn’t a battle they could win. While her tribe had greater numbers, at least half weren’t fighters, whereas every one of the men and women behind Kian appeared battle hardened. This was the only way, and if he died so that Zarrah, Aren, and the rest could live, so be it.
“Meet me at the midground,” Kian said. “Then we do the switch.”
Daria didn’t answer, only bound his arms behind his back. But then her hands stilled. “Do you love
“Island honor?” Daria demanded.
“Or may the devil take my soul.”
“He already has it.” Daria spat into the dirt. “But let it be done.”
She jabbed Keris in the spine again, forcing him to walk even as Kian dragged Zarrah, who kept screaming, “Run! Run! Run!” Wrenching free of Kian’s grasp, she slammed into Keris.
For a heartbeat, their bodies were pressed together, and time seemed to freeze as he looked down into her eyes. He’d been terrified that all he’d find was hate, but that was the only emotion absent in the liquid depths of her gaze, her words muffled by her gag as she said, “You came for me.”
He tried to spit out the wad of fabric Daria had shoved in his mouth, but before he could, Zarrah said around her gag, “Why did you come for me? He’s going to kill you!”
proved to be accurate. But on the very small chance you ever get to speak to her again, remember that A tremor ran down his spine, twisting guilt filling his gut that he was putting her through this. For her once again to be caught blind in one of his plans. Trust me, he tried to tell her as he stared into her eyes.
Then Kian had a hold of her again, wrenching her away. Zarrah twisted and thrashed, eyes wild as she screamed and screamed, only for Kian to backhand her hard. “Shut your gob, woman.”
The blow stunned her, and Zarrah dangled limply in Kian’s grip. Keris’s control fractured, and he
“Focus, Your Grace,” Daria muttered as they descended the hill to the meeting spot. “None of what took two quick steps before Daria jerked on his wrists.
Kian laughed. “Can’t say I blame you, Your Grace. She’s pretty as they come, and if it hadn’t been against the terms of my agreement, I might have taken her for a turn myself.”
Don’t let him bait you, Keris silently screamed at himself as Kian tossed Zarrah at Daria’s feet.
You need him agreeable.
“Here,” Kian said, lifting a cord over his head, from which dangled a key. “I gift you my gallery, old nemesis.” He held it out to Daria, but she ignored it, and he let it drop to her feet. “Enjoy the beach.”
Daria shoved Keris, and he stumbled, Kian grabbing him by the arm and dragging him back toward his men. Keris risked a backward glance to see Daria lifting a stirring Zarrah, Saam moving to help
carry her to safety.
It was done. No matter what happened next, she was as safe as he could make her, so Keris turned his mind to the rest of his plan.
The prisoners dragged him roughly to camp, alternating between crowing insults at him and making suggestions of how best to enjoy their freedom as the sun began to set.
“Didn’t go quite according to plan, did it, Your Grace?” Kian said, catching Keris by the hair and pulling loose the gag. “Such hubris to believe you could come onto my island and take one of my things. That you could plot, conspire, and machinate, without me knowing exactly what you were up to.”
“Character flaw, I’m afraid.” Keris smiled. “I’ve been told time and again that my excessively high opinion of myself will be my downfall, but I never learn.”
Kian backhanded him, then hauled him up by the front of his shirt with shocking strength, holding a knife tip above Keris’s left eye. “Only need one to prove your breeding, Veliant.”
“Willing to bet your freedom on that?” Keris asked. When the man shrugged, he added, “How about your fortune?”
Kian went still, but the knife remained in place. “Fortune isn’t on the table.”
“Oh, but it is.”
Silence stretched, and then Kian said, “I’m listening.”
“You know who I am,” Keris said. “Which means that you know that I’m very, very rich.” Utter bullshit, given that his father had drained the coffers in his pursuit of the bridge, but Kian wouldn’t know that. “I’d be willing to reward those who help me escape this particular circumstance alive.”