“And if I don’t survive long enough to do so?”
“We’ll do what we can for her, within reason,” Lara answered. “I won’t promise more than that.”
Lara told you that she won’t risk her life for Zarrah, but in the moment, she’ll change her mind.
And she can’t keep dodging death forever. So please use this journey south to ask yourself just how much you’re really willing to lose, Aren’s voice said inside his head, and Keris reached out to grip her shoulders. “I’m not willing to lose you again, sister. Don’t do anything you shouldn’t.”
She bit her bottom lip, then nodded. “Good luck.”
Keris clambered over the rail and down the ladder, landing with a thud in the now-lowered
longboat. He sat on a bench, the wood wet and cold through his trousers, a prelude of what was to come.
Moments later, Aren landed with a soft thud, settling himself next to Keris, eyes on the faint glow cutting through the fog. “Row.”
ZARRAH STARED AT Kian, skin still crawling. “Bullshit. I’ve spent weeks in their camp. Do you think that I don’t know what they eat?”
“You tell me,” he answered. “You’ve seen the meat in their pots. Looks like pork, but ask
yourself, have you ever seen a pig on this island?”
“They eat birds. Fish. And what they steal from you!”
Kian laughed. “Do you think there’d be a damn bird left on this island if that was what they were putting in their pots?” Resting his hands on his hips, he added, “We hold the beach, and our nets take most of the fish. All of the supplies. You think that what Daria and her ilk steal is enough to fill all those bellies?”
It wasn’t, but she’d assumed they had hidden stores.
“They’ve been feeding you my tribe members, Zarrah. Still feel comfortable in their camp?”
“They don’t share.” She swallowed hard. “I have to hunt for my own food.” A rule intended to keep everyone accountable. A rule intended to ensure that the strong didn’t steal the pickings of the weak.
Or was it a rule to keep the prey from discovering they lived within their hunters’ camp?
No. No, she knew these people. Would have noticed the smell of human flesh cooking over fire.
There was no way they could have hidden such a horrible way of life from her. “You’re full of shit, Kian.”
He shrugged, then cast out a hand. “Where are the bodies of my men? We found a few of the dead, but we’re missing at least two scouts.”
“Probably hidden in the bushes.” The words came out too quickly, and she knew it. So did Kian, who gave a slow shake of his head. “I could take you by force now, Zarrah. You know that. But I’d rather you see for yourself and choose to come to our camp of your own volition. They’ll do their butchering in the graveyard tonight. We’ll wait here for you.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Zarrah answered, but the shadow that was Kian only lifted its shoulders.
“Quiet while my men return,” he said. “I trust you can get yourself down?”
She fell still as his warriors approached, cursing and swearing and demanding retribution. All Kian said was, “Once we have her, she’s our ticket to freedom. The only ticket those fuckers have is to hell.”
Then they were gone.
Zarrah waited until their footsteps faded, then cut herself down. She hit the ground hard and off-balance, rolling into a bush, where she took only a heartbeat to let her spinning head clear. Then she was running.
Her pulse throbbed, a stitch forming in her side, but it was what Kian had told her that consumed her brain. It couldn’t be true. It had to be some trick. Had to be a lie.
She hit the cut line right as a large rebel force crossed the wall, though they slowed at the sight of her. Daria was with them, and she pushed her way through the others to Zarrah’s side. “Are you all right?” she demanded. “I blackened Saam’s eye when I realized he’d left you.”
“Fine,” Zarrah answered, the feel of Daria’s hand on her arm making her skin crawl. “They passed right beneath me and didn’t even notice. Cut myself down after they left.”
Daria nodded, then swayed. Instinctively, Zarrah steadied her. “How’s the head?”
“Goose egg the size of a new mother’s tit,” Daria muttered. “But I’ll live. And Flay will regret not killing me when I track that little monster down. Let’s head back to camp and assess whether this debacle was worth it.”
Zarrah remained silent as they returned to camp, forcing a smile to her face as they examined the fifteen weapons they’d stolen, all of far better make than most in the camp possessed.
“I think this is worthy of celebration,” Daria announced. “But some unfortunate souls will have to join me on patrol so that the rest might relax.”
Zarrah tensed, knowing full well that the woman had already assigned warriors to guard duty.
Taking advantage of the distraction of those celebrating, she went into the woods as though to piss, then picked up Daria’s trail. They didn’t head to join those guarding the border, but rather to the gully holding the graveyard.
It wasn’t true.
It couldn’t be true.
Except with every step she took, Zarrah saw clues that she’d previously turned a blind eye toward.
Saw how she’d readily accepted Daria’s explanations. There was no doubt that Kian was attempting to manipulate her into joining his camp, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a kernel of truth.
Daria’s camp had to have another source of food beyond what they could steal and forage.
And Zarrah intended to find out what it was.
The carpet of nettles kept her footsteps silent as she traversed the narrow trail, moving slowly in deference to the faint light, but it wasn’t long until she could pick out the glow of torchlight.
Daria was no fool, which meant that whatever they were doing, there would be guards. Stepping off the trail, Zarrah moved from shadow to shadow.
There.
Leaning against a tree was a lean form. Saam, she suspected, given the individual was picking at his nails with a knife, the blade catching the faint light. Dropping low, she eased past him and pressed closer to the torchlight.
The scrape of a shovel against rocky soil reached her.
They were digging graves. Daria hadn’t mentioned anyone dying in the raid, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. Though if that were the case, why be so covert about burying the body? Zarrah crested the lip of the hollow and rested her elbows on the ground as she looked over the graveyard.
Daria and another man were digging, a large pile of rocky earth already piled to one side of the grave. Yet instead of adding to her relief, the sight pulled a frown to Zarrah’s forehead, because they weren’t digging a new grave.
They were digging up an old one.
There was a loud thunk of metal hitting wood, and Daria gave a slight nod. “There it is.”
Zarrah watched in silence as they slowed their digging, working their rudimentary shovels around whatever they’d uncovered before Daria dropped to her knees. Reaching into the hole, she grasped hold of something and heaved. Zarrah tensed, but all the other woman removed was what looked like the lid of a supply barrel.
Did they use them as coffins? That made no sense, given there were no animals on this island to dig up a grave.
“Can fit one more. Maybe two, if we’re lucky. Get the salt.”
Two men came from the opposite side of the hollow, carrying something between them. A corpse.
Yet as the torchlight illuminated the form, bile surged up Zarrah’s throat.
Not a corpse. A carcass that had been field dressed like game.
Frozen in horror, Zarrah watched as they stuffed the carcass into the barrel and then dumped in sacks of salt.
Sweat dripped down her brow to splatter against the back of her hand as she watched the other body be carried into the clearing.