Pain screamed through Zarrah’s body, along with the desperate need to breathe.
You can do this, she willed herself. Fight.
Hand over hand, she dragged herself along the rope, breaking the surface next to the boat. She caught hold of the edge, then hauled herself upward.
In time for the boat to rotate into the cliff.
Wood crunched, the impact nearly sending her back into the water as the boat spun about.
Clenching her teeth, Zarrah managed to hook an ankle over the edge, and then toppled inside.
Her respite lasted less than a heartbeat, the world spinning around her as the boat twisted on the rushing water.
She needed to get it under control.
Snatching up the paddle in the bottom of the boat, Zarrah braced her feet against the sides, her eyes fixed on the chute of water before her. Only now did she realize why sight was possible despite it being night. Overhead, far out of reach, braziers dangled from chains supported by large brackets bolted into the walls of the cliff.
And on the cliff top, archers watched.
They weren’t the threat, though. The Empress didn’t want her dead, just broken enough to be malleable.
She had no intention of conceding to either fate.
Zarrah paddled hard, doing her best to keep the boat from slamming against the cliffs as the water circled ever closer to the heart of the island. Yet the damage to the boat had already been done, the small vessel sitting lower and lower in the water.
And the channel spiraling toward the center of the island seemed unending.
Maybe there was no center. Maybe this was the punishment, to be left on a boat circling around and around, forced to paddle for your life until your strength gave out, your boat gave out, and the water took you.
closer with each passing second. If the water slammed her against them, she was done. Would drown, Or until she begged for her aunt’s forgiveness.
“I will not give in,” she snarled, then looked up at the watching archers and screamed, “I will not surrender!”
If they heard her over the rush of water, she couldn’t tell, for their faces remained impassive.
Disinterested, as what they were witnessing was something they’d seen a hundred times before.
The cliff wall on her right abruptly ended.
A surge of water struck her boat from the right, nearly overturning her. Zarrah clung to the sides, screams ripping from her throat. Not of fear but fury.
Zarrah jerked her knees upward, certain something was in the water with her. Something with teeth.
The boat spun, the light from the braziers above a blur of flame, and then a beach appeared.
The rumors were true.
The water had taken her to the heart of the island. An island within the island, the mass of land encircled by water. Her nails dug into the wood of the boat as she debated what to do. Whether to swim to the beach now or allow the water to take her around the island, giving her a tour of the place.
Except …
A fresh rush of fear filled her chest, and Zarrah looked over her shoulder at where her boat had kicked to the surface. But it was terror, not breath, that filled her as she watched the boat slam against spun. She hadn’t been drawn in on a tide but on a current, which meant the water was going somewhere. And that somewhere had to be down.
“God spare me,” she whispered, realizing that the island truly did have a whirlpool beneath it. If The boat surged over her head, her shoulders jerked backward by the rope right as her heels struck she didn’t get onto that beach now, she’d be sucked down to the bottom of the sea. Or to hell itself.
“Die now or die later,” a voice shouted from above, and Zarrah looked up to see a smirking guard.
“Go past the edge of that beach and the decision is made for you.”
Zarrah spared the time to flip her middle finger at the woman, then rowed hard toward the rocky beach, her boat sinking, slowing, even as the water threatened to drag her past the point of no return.
Get out, fear whispered. Swim.
Except this boat might be the only chance she had at escape. She couldn’t lose it.
“Come on!” Paddling hard, her arms quivered, but panic fueled her strength as she fought the current.
It was a losing battle, the swamped boat too unwieldy. Cursing, Zarrah grabbed the rope still fastened to the front and jumped.
Water closed over her head, the cold a knife to the chest, but Zarrah ignored it and swam. Her boots hit the rocky bottom, but she kept swimming with the current even as she angled up the beach.
Waist-deep.
Thigh-deep.
But she was running out of beach.
“Better hurry,” someone called from above, this time a different voice, though the amusement was the same. This was a joke to them. Entertainment to break the doldrums of boredom.
Looping the rope around her hands, Zarrah twisted and braced as the submerged boat floated past.
The rope went taut. She heaved, trying to pull it onto the beach, but the current was so strong.
Zarrah screamed, drawing on every reserve of strength as she took one step back. Then two, pulling the boat with her. She was fully out of the water now, heels digging into rocky sand as she dragged the small vessel partially onto the beach.
Sucking in breath after breath, she watched water flow from the holes in the boat, waiting until it Maybe there was no center. Maybe this was the punishment, to be left on a boat circling around and was mostly drained before pulling it far enough away from the deadly flow that she deemed it secure.
Then she fell on her ass.
And looked up at those who had taunted her.
Across the stretch of water before her rose a cliff, braziers hanging from L-shaped brackets bolted to the rock, illuminating the water and the beach as though it were a stage and the guards the spectators. “Fuck you,” she screamed at them, hating that her people would behave this way. Like she was theater for them. Just like everyone else who’d been brought to the island.
Everyone else …
Zarrah’s blood went cold. You idiot. You cursed, loud fool.
Hand closing on a rock, she slowly turned to look at the island behind her. An island full of the worst criminals in all of the Valcottan Empire.
And found eyes staring back at her.
The rumors were true.
The water had taken her to the heart of the island. An island within the island, the mass of land encircled by water. Her nails dug into the wood of the boat as she debated what to do. Whether to swim to the beach now or allow the water to take her around the island, giving her a tour of the place.
Except …
A fresh rush of fear filled her chest, and Zarrah looked over her shoulder at where her boat had spun. She hadn’t been drawn in on a tide but on a current, which meant the water was going somewhere. And that somewhere had to be down.
“God spare me,” she whispered, realizing that the island truly did have a whirlpool beneath it. If she didn’t get onto that beach now, she’d be sucked down to the bottom of the sea. Or to hell itself.
“Die now or die later,” a voice shouted from above, and Zarrah looked up to see a smirking guard.
“Go past the edge of that beach and the decision is made for you.”
Zarrah spared the time to flip her middle finger at the woman, then rowed hard toward the rocky beach, her boat sinking, slowing, even as the water threatened to drag her past the point of no return.
Get out, fear whispered. Swim.