Run back to the ship. Run back to Maridrina. Run from the fact that Zarrah was imprisoned on an island full of criminals because she’d made the mistake of loving him.
Keris’s temper snapped, and he half rose, looming over the sailor. “You will fucking row,” he shouted, “or I will cut your throat and feed you to the sharks, then row myself! Do you understand?”
The man shrank downward, face pale as he nodded. The longboat resumed its course toward the
“Unlikely. My father invaded Ithicana and tried to destroy them so as to possess the bridge himself. black opening in the cliffs.
You are your father’s son. Veliant to the core.
“The shipbreakers aren’t a warning.” He adjusted his cloak. “They’re a reminder.”
“And just what is Aren of Ithicana reminding you of, Your Grace?” Dax called over the growing thunder of the waves striking the cliffs. “Because it ain’t to wash behind your ears.”
Keris stared at the opening in the cliff, the entrance to Eranahl drawing closer with every stroke of the oars, the scene wholly wild and unfamiliar. “He’s reminding me that this is Ithicana.” The waves any chance at peace. No matter how much Aren personally dislikes me, he won’t make that sacrifice.”lifted the boat, hurling it into the volcano. There was no turning back now. “And in Ithicana, we play by his rules.”
Dax clambered inside the longboat, along with a sailor who was staring at the island like a man on the verge of pissing himself.
“We should bring more men,” Dax advised, but Keris only shook his head as he climbed in.
“The only reason I’m bringing you is that I’m too lazy to row. So get to it.”
Dax rolled his eyes skyward as the boat lowered to the waves. “You were insufferable as a prince.
Becoming king has only made you worse.”
“Row.” Keris was in no mood to banter, his nerves rising like bile in his throat as the boat hit the water. Everything felt abruptly more ominous, the volcano looming out of the whitecaps, peak lost in swirling rainclouds.
Rubbing at his temples, Keris forced his attention to the island. Sheer cliffs rose out of the sea, waves exploding against them with each surge, the violence breathtaking. Atop them were stone outposts that almost disappeared into the vegetation, and in each outpost, there was an enormous catapult. As Keris watched, one of the catapults rotated, and his skin crawled as he realized they were taking aim at the longboat.
“Look in the water,” Dax muttered, and his attention jumped from the shipbreaker to the waves. To the massive grey dorsal moving past, circling.
It wasn’t alone.
At least a dozen fins of varying sizes moved around the longboat, and a cold sweat broke out on Keris’s spine, his hands ice despite the oppressive heat.
Crack!
A boulder soared through the air, landing in the water perhaps thirty paces from the longboat. Spray erupted, soaking them, waves rocking the boat and threatening to overturn it.
“We must turn back!” the sailor shrieked. “We are dead men! We must turn around, Your Grace!”
“We are not turning back.”
“It was a warning,” the sailor wailed, rowing opposite to Dax so that the boat spun in a circle.
“The next will crush us! We’ll be meat for the sharks! We must go back to the ship!”
Run back to the ship. Run back to Maridrina. Run from the fact that Zarrah was imprisoned on an island full of criminals because she’d made the mistake of loving him.
Keris’s temper snapped, and he half rose, looming over the sailor. “You will fucking row,” he shouted, “or I will cut your throat and feed you to the sharks, then row myself! Do you understand?”
The man shrank downward, face pale as he nodded. The longboat resumed its course toward the black opening in the cliffs.
You are your father’s son. Veliant to the core.
“The shipbreakers aren’t a warning.” He adjusted his cloak. “They’re a reminder.”
“And just what is Aren of Ithicana reminding you of, Your Grace?” Dax called over the growing thunder of the waves striking the cliffs. “Because it ain’t to wash behind your ears.”
Keris stared at the opening in the cliff, the entrance to Eranahl drawing closer with every stroke of the oars, the scene wholly wild and unfamiliar. “He’s reminding me that this is Ithicana.” The waves lifted the boat, hurling it into the volcano. There was no turning back now. “And in Ithicana, we play by his rules.”
WITH HER EYES fixed on the grey gulls pecking among the rocks, Zarrah’s arm trembled as she lifted the spear, which was nothing more than a long stick she had sharpened by rubbing it against a rock. You get one chance, she told herself. Get it right.
She was so hungry. Hungry in a way she’d never known, the endless gnawing in her stomach
plaguing her day and night, bad enough that she sometimes doubled over in pain. She was nauseous and dizzy, the few grubs and worms she’d dug up from beneath rocks and then gagged down having done little to sate her.
As Daria had warned her, the tribe gave her nothing to eat.
Day after day, she watched them devour what they’d caught, only children and family units exempt from the rule of sharing. Though the smell of the meat they’d caught or stolen from Kian’s tribe made her mouth salivate and her eyes burn with need, she didn’t begrudge them the rule. Not after hearing their stories. Her aunt taxed heavily to fund the war, and anyone who protested was silenced. Anyone who questioned her changes to the law was silenced. Anyone who questioned her attempts to stymie trade was silenced. The list of things individuals had been arrested for protesting was as varied as
the people themselves, but at their core was the same crime: speaking out against the Empress. They weren’t just fighting to survive; they were fighting for a higher purpose, and when that day came, it would be the strongest at the ready.
The gull turned sideways.
Now.
She threw her spear, heart in her throat as it soared through the air, because she wanted to be the strongest. Needed to be strongest, so that she would be in the vanguard of those who would liberate Valcotta from her aunt’s tyranny.
Crunch.
Her spear punched through the gull, both weapon and bird disappearing over the side of the rocks.
Zarrah was already moving.
Bits of rock exploded from her feet as she sprinted, irrationally terrified that she’d missed, that the bird would be gone, that one of her competitors for life in this cursed place had snatched up her prey and even now consumed it.
Rounding the rocks, she skidded to a stop, her eyes latching on to the dead bird, her spear still stuck through its side.
Zarrah fell to her knees, hands shaking as she pulled the creature free, its still eyes seeming to watch her. Blood stained its grey feathers, and her whole body quivered with the desire to rip into it, to consume it raw so as to put an end to the grinding pain in her belly. Her fingers dug in—
Only for a slow clap to capture her attention.
Zarrah snatched up her spear and whirled, bird still clutched in her hand as her eyes lighted upon Daria, who stood a dozen paces away, grinning and clapping.
“Well done.”
The other woman approached, and Zarrah clutched her prize to her chest and lifted her spear, instinct demanding she protect it at all costs. But Daria only lifted her hands in a pacifying gesture.
“Peace, Zarrah. The same rules apply to me as they do to you—I steal, I lose a hand. The prize is yours, but don’t allow your hunger to turn you into a beast who devours its prey raw.”