It wasn’t an idle question.
What she’d done to earn her spot in this place mattered to the woman, though whether her crime would keep her in or out of this camp, Zarrah wasn’t entirely certain. What she did know was that telling these people the truth of her identity, the truth of her crime, would see her slaughtered in heartbeats. “Murder.”
“Who did you kill?”
It was more a matter of who she hadn’t killed, but Zarrah shrugged and said, “Superior officer with wandering hands.”
“You were a soldier, then? You can fight? I don’t mean like a whore in a cathouse brawl, but like a warrior.”
Zarrah met her gaze. “Yes.”
Daria smiled. “Good. As you’ve already seen, we don’t all get along on this island, and we could use good fighters.” Her head tilted. “Name?”
Not only had every person here been sentenced to this prison in the name of the Empress, but Zarrah had personally captured several criminals over the years who’d been incarcerated here, so admitting her real identity would be a fool’s move. But her name was common in Valcotta—indeed, thousands of baby girls had been named in her honor over the years—so it seemed safe enough.
“Zarrah.”
Daria’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “All right then, Zarrah. We’ll give you the tour.”
her eyes off her and panned their surroundings. She was in a camp formed of six small buildings made The other woman rose to her feet, then reached a hand down to Zarrah, pulling her upright. A sharp of rough-hewn logs, tarps of what looked like scraps of sail stretched over a handful of small cooking whistle had six others, all armed with spears, approaching. “We’ll get you a weapon when you’ve proven yourself trustworthy,” Daria said as she led the group out of the camp. “As you might expect, very few who end up in this shithole are deserving of the word.”
Zarrah’s line of sight. “Common
“Fair.” As she spoke, Zarrah felt a wave of déjà vu. A prisoner once more, and again without weapons, again at the mercy of those who controlled the prison, again embroiled in unfamiliar
politics and schemes that she didn’t quite understand. But Zarrah hadn’t been helpless in Vencia, and A thought for later, given that Zarrah remained trussed in a camp full of criminals, the vast majority she wasn’t helpless now. “Has anyone ever escaped?”
Everyone in the group laughed, and her cheeks warmed. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Don’t worry, everyone asks the same thing,” Daria answered, still chuckling.
“It’s just a matter of when,” one of the men added, his teeth bright white against his dark-brown wanted you in his harem of women. Bastard acts like King Silas Veliant, the way he collects the prettyskin. “Name’s Saam.”
“Quit gaping at her, you jackass.” Daria poked the man in the side. “Kian won’t be best pleased at losing pretty Zarrah here and might aim to take her back. Which you will make easy, given that you’ll never see him coming.” She glanced sideways at Zarrah. “Unless you’re of a mind to join Kian, don’t wander alone, you get my meaning?”
Zarrah nodded, though as she dug through her memory, what she dredged up was that Kian had been more wary of these prisoners than they were of him.
“As fascinating as whatever fresh gossip you bring from the mainland is, you’ll find it matters little They headed southwest, passing a graveyard with dozens of stone markers of those who had lived and died in the prison. The warriors accompanying them spread out as they walked through the pines, feet silent on the cushioned earth and their eyes constantly roving. Looking for threats.
Of average looks, her dark-brown hair was captured in a long braid down her back, her skin a similar What were their crimes? Zarrah wondered, for no one ended up in this place without having done something terrible.
You’re here, a voice whispered inside her head. Not because you committed unspeakable murder
“One of them.” Reaching forward, Daria untied Zarrah’s bonds. “So what did you do to earn a spot but to teach you a lesson about men.
I’m the Empress’s niece, she reminded the voice. My imprisonment is personal; theirs isn’t.
Are you sure?
Zarrah was forced to abandon the inner argument as Daria said, “People disappear from the island all the time, so it’s possible someone has escaped, and we just don’t know. It isn’t as though the guards keep the inmates apprised of current events, you get my meaning?”
“Do the guards converse with you?” There was opportunity there, for it was possible that Zarrah might know one of them. That they might be willing to help her.
killed, but Zarrah shrugged and said, “Superior officer with
“Converse is a stretch, but there’s a certain exchange of dialogue that occurs,” Daria answered, speaking louder as the roar of water grew. “We’ll have to see how chatty they are today.”
They broke out of the trees, and Zarrah’s stomach flipped as she stopped next to a cliff edge.
Beneath, the seawater raged in its swirling cycle around the island, but it was to the far side of the murderous channel that her eyes went. About every hundred feet was a stone guard post, a pair of sharp-eyed soldiers minding each of them, bows in hand.
“Morning, cunts!” Daria shouted across the gap, lifting her hands to flip her middle fingers at the closest guard posts. “Care to take your best shot?”
Zarrah shifted uneasily because there was nothing to stop either guard from shooting them, no cover to take. And given that the gap between cliff tops was only about thirty feet, it was an easy shot. But the men only gave Daria sour glares, as though this were an old and tired exchange. “They don’t ever shoot?”
“Oh, they do.” Daria cut left and walked along the edge of the rocky cliff with no regard for the The other woman rose to her feet, then reached a hand down to Zarrah, pulling her upright. A sharp deadly plunge at her right. Casting a vicious grin at Zarrah, she added, “But it gives us something to shoot back, and we’ve got archers here with better aim. So they only shoot when some fool tries to get across.”
“Does that happen often?” Zarrah watched the other woman flip her fingers at the guards at the next post, with a similar lack of effect.
“Every time a tree grows tall enough,” Daria answered. “This place does strange things to the mind, and there are some who spend their days nurturing trees, waiting for them to grow tall enough, believing they will be delivered from this horror if only the tree will grow. More still who take great glee in cutting down said trees just before they reach that precious length.”
Zarrah shivered, for there was a certain madness in both behaviors.
“In truth, those who try are only hastening their end, because there isn’t an inch of the cliff tops that the guards don’t watch,” Daria continued. “Day and night. Night and day. Rain or snow or sun, they watch.” Lifting her hands, she screamed “Pig fuckers” at the next guard post.
never see him coming.” She glanced sideways at Zarrah. “Unless you’re of a mind to join Kian, don’t These guards only laughed, and though logically Zarrah knew that every criminal in this place deserved to be here, her hands still curled into fists because it felt as though they laughed at her, too.
Zarrah nodded, though as she dug through her memory, what she dredged up was that Kian had been She moved her attention to the next guard post. To continue their circuit of the island, they’d have to cross the low wall of stones she’d tripped over in her flight from the other group of prisoners.
The barrier between territories.