“I’d rather your face be the last thing I see.”
Lara made a noise of disgust. “I should let you bite off your tongue and spare the world your nonsense.” She shoved the leather strap between his teeth. “You ready?”
Fire burned in Zarrah’s eyes, and he prayed to God and fate and the stars that it would not burn her alive.
Lara gave no warning.
First came the sizzle, then the smell of burning blood.
The pain struck like an avalanche, agony beyond anything he’d ever known, and Keris screamed.
Then there was nothing at all.
It stretched on and on, and it was not the reaction he’d anticipated from her. Was not the wrath and promises of vengeance that he’d expected to come flowing forth from her lips. Not able to stand it, he said, “My father might have wielded the blade, but it was Petra who assassinated your mother. Her own sister, and rightful Empress of Valcotta. As her named heir, you became the rightful empress.”
Zarrah didn’t respond.
“You’ve said your piece.” Lara knelt next to him, a bag in her hands. “I need to remove the arrow.”
It had to come out; Keris knew that. Just as he also knew that it might be the only thing keeping him alive, and once removed, the rest of his life would spill out onto the floor. He couldn’t let that happen without certainty that she’d fight for her crown. “Zarrah?”
She didn’t so much as blink.
God help him, what if what she’d endured on that island had been too much? What if some critical part of her had been at the breaking point, and instead of giving her strength in anger, he’d broken her?
“Zar—”
Without warning, Lara snapped off the arrowhead and jerked the shaft out of him.
Keris bit down on a scream, nails digging into his palms, but his eyes didn’t move from Zarrah’s.
“Promise me you won’t let her get away with it,” he pleaded, jerking his head from Lara’s grasp as she tried to shove a piece of leather between his teeth. “Promise me that you’ll fight for your crown.”
“Keris, you’re bleeding to death!” Lara shouted, the ship rolling sideways, everything on the tables falling to the deck with a crash. “I have to do this now!”
He could smell the smoke of the brazier, see the crimson glow of heated steel. The thought of the pain to come should have terrified him, but it was the thought that he’d pass out and never wake that fueled his fear because he needed to know that she’d keep fighting. “Zarrah!”
Not a blink. Like her body was there, but not her mind. Desperate, he shouted, “Valcotta!”
Her eyes snapped into focus.
Keris tangled his fingers in her dark curls, pulling her close. “Your mother wanted peace, and Petra killed her for it. Honor her by taking back the crown and liberating Valcotta.”
“Fuck honor,” she whispered. “I want blood.”
“Zarrah,” Lara snarled, “unless it’s his blood you want, hold him down.”
Zarrah didn’t move, and Keris swore he felt his heart stutter as it began to fail. Then she was straddling him, fingers digging into his biceps as she threw her weight against him. “Close your eyes.”
“I’d rather your face be the last thing I see.”
Lara made a noise of disgust. “I should let you bite off your tongue and spare the world your nonsense.” She shoved the leather strap between his teeth. “You ready?”
Fire burned in Zarrah’s eyes, and he prayed to God and fate and the stars that it would not burn her alive.
Lara gave no warning.
First came the sizzle, then the smell of burning blood.
The pain struck like an avalanche, agony beyond anything he’d ever known, and Keris screamed.
Then there was nothing at all.
KERIS SCREAMED, AND what rational piece of Zarrah’s mind remained knew this moment was
cutting a wound in her soul that would never heal. But her anger wouldn’t allow the hurt to rise. Wouldn’t allow her grief or guilt. Her anger took his pain and used it as fuel for its flames so that all she saw was red.
“Bleeding is mostly stopped,” Lara said, and Zarrah saw tears dripping from the other woman’s face. Her own eyes were dry as sand. “Let him go.”
She couldn’t let him go. Couldn’t unclench her fingers despite feeling the warmth of blood where her nails had broken Keris’s skin.
“Let. Him. Go.”
She couldn’t let him go because holding on to him was all that was keeping the rage in check.
Steel bit into her throat, just below her chin.
“Let my brother go.”
It was only base instinct that finally unclenched her fingers. Zarrah drew back, Lara moving with her.
“Get out,” the Queen of Ithicana said, the ice in her blue eyes undiminished by the swelling and tears. “Go deal with your thoughts somewhere they can do no harm.”
Part of Zarrah wanted the violence. Wanted to spend some of her rage in a fight, lest it consume her entirely. Knowing it was a sort of madness didn’t lessen its hold on her.
Then the door to the cabin slammed open, and Aren appeared. “We lost them.” His eyes shifted between them. “Is he …”
“He’s alive,” Lara answered. “Barely.”
Barely.
Abruptly, Zarrah found she couldn’t breathe. Scrambling to her feet, she rushed past Aren. Out onto the open deck and to the fore of the ship. Icy wind ripped at her hair and clothes, and she willed it to cool her anger, but it only flamed hotter.
My aunt murdered my mother.
Her own sister. Her own flesh and blood. And that meant it hadn’t just been Zarrah’s mother that her aunt had sent Silas to kill; it had been Zarrah as well.
Memory of that moment filled her mind’s eye. Of her aunt galloping toward her, face a mask of fury.
Fury that Zarrah had once believed fueled by what had been done but now realized was fueled by what had been left undone.
Yet instead of finding another way to kill her, her aunt had done something far worse. Had manipulated Zarrah into the exact opposite of what her mother had dreamed for her. Had made her into a tool to perpetuate the war her mother had wanted to end.
Death would’ve been better.
Death would’ve spared her this moment of looking back and realizing that Bermin was right. She was a pawn.
A scream boiled up in her throat, and falling to her knees, Zarrah hammered her fists against the deck until her skin split. Then she pressed her forehead to the wood and wept.
A long time passed, and then a voice said, “What do you want to do?”
Lifting her head, she searched the darkness until she found Aren’s large outline. “Take me to Pyrinat. I’m going to kill that bitch.”
Aren huffed out a breath. “Keris will kill me if I agree to that.”
Keris. His name sent a shudder running through her. “Is …” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the question.
“Still breathing.” Aren’s shadow settled down on the deck next to her. “He’s tougher than he looks.
He and Lara are both made of sterner stuff than anyone I’ve ever met. Something in the blood. Their mother was from one of the desert tribes, so the ability to survive the worst runs in their veins.”