woodenness of it at odds with the gleam of his eyes and the delight in his laugh. Then he was lost again to the shadows.
Branches rustled and footsteps pattered, both Keris and Aren rotating with the noise. Another figure stepped into the moonlight. Long hair fell to his shoulders, but his face was equally strange. He pointed at Keris, then faded backward into darkness.
More footfalls, then another appeared. This one was bald and laughing, giving Keris no time to get a good look at him before he ducked behind a tree.
“I can’t tell how many there are,” Aren said, his knife blade catching the moonlight as he rotated, more and more men appearing, only to swirl away into the shadows. “We need to make a run for it.”
Keris eyed the ground around them uneasily, because if they were caught up in another one of the nets, it was over. The men knew they were armed, and they wouldn’t give them a chance to cut themselves loose twice. “Back the way we came. We know it’s clear.”
“Go!”
Keris broke into a sprint but only made it a few paces before the first man appeared, blocking his path. “We want it,” the man crooned, the moonlight falling upon him, revealing a mouth that didn’t move with his words. “We shall have it.”
“Good God,” Keris whispered, despite knowing that God had no power in this place. “He’s
wearing someone else’s face.”
Which meant they all were.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Aren hissed, his back against Keris’s as he hunted for the other attackers. As he readied himself to fight.
Keris lifted his own knife as the man, the creature, stepped forward, snickering and giggling, the sound bouncing off the trees.
Then it froze, head cocked. Listening. It shrieked and Keris jumped, readying for an attack, but it scuttled away into the darkness.
Keris didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe, as he waited.
A woman stepped into the moonlight.
The man was clearly mad, but that alone wasn’t enough to explain the sudden surge of primal dread His heart skipped, and he took a step toward her. “Valcotta—”
He broke off as she lifted her face. Young. Valcottan. But not Zarrah.
“I see you’ve met Flay,” she said. “Not the ideal introduction to the island, but far from the worst.”
There was worse than that here?
“He didn’t give his name.” Keris’s fingers tightened on his knife. “And he wasn’t alone.”
She laughed. “Flay is always alone, but never alone, if you get my meaning.”
“I don’t.”
With complete disregard for his weapon, she came closer. “Flay collects identities, so to speak.
What you saw were the many faces of Flay, but he’s only one man. If you can call him a man at all.”
“Fuck me,” Aren muttered. “Someone needs to kill that thing.”
“Many have tried,” she answered. “But apparently, it’s hard to kill a demon. Name’s Daria, by the way. Welcome to Devil’s Island.” She hesitated. “Where did you get the weapons?”
Shit.
“There were men on the beach when we arrived,” Aren answered. “They attacked us, but we killed them and took their weapons.”
“I see.” Daria huffed out an amused breath. “An exciting arrival indeed.” She motioned at Keris to follow. “We’ll take you back to camp and explain things, all right?”
Keris cast a backward glance over his shoulder. “Isn’t camp that way?”
“A camp is that way,” Daria answered. “But you boys walk into that camp uninvited, they’ll kill you, especially if you’ve already done in a pair of Kian’s men. I’ll only kill you if you piss me off, understood?”
figure stepped into the moonlight. Long hair fell to his shoulders, but his face was equally strange. He
“Understood,” Aren said, even as Keris fought the urge to ask about Zarrah.
“Good, then let’s go. There are worse things than Flay to encounter here if we linger in the dark.”
As they followed Daria, more men and women stepped out of the darkness to flank them. All skin and bones. All wearing little more than rags. All armed to the teeth.
But none of them wore human skin, which was a significant point in favor of going with them.
“So,” Daria said. “What did you do to end up in this shithole?”
“Bar fight in Pyrinat,” Aren lied without hesitation. “Got a bit out of hand, which would have been forgivable if not for the fact one of the men left on the floor was some relative of the Empress.”
Daria snorted. “Fair enough. And you?” She looked at Keris, then chuckled. “What crime did you commit? Breaking wind in a library?”
Aren guffawed and Keris glared at him, but the other man only smirked and said, “He pushes those who piss him off out of towers.”
“Must be a politician, then. Though we don’t see many Maridrinian politicos in Valcotta, and most are executed and fed to the dogs, not sent here.”
“Lucky me,” Keris muttered.
“If you are alive, there is hope,” Daria answered. “Can’t say the same if you’re being pushed out a dog’s arsehole.”
“Poetic.”
Daria shot him a smile, teeth white in the torchlight. “I figured you for a man who appreciates a bit of poetry. Now walk faster—we need to get back to our territory before they realize we’ve been here and retaliate.”
Keris didn’t argue, but as he met Aren’s eye, he knew they were thinking the same thing. This island had a war of its own being waged, and they’d walked into the middle of it.
“I see you’ve met Flay,” she said. “Not the ideal introduction to the island, but far from the worst.”
THE GLOW OF dawn was warming the sky as Daria led them into a camp. The few structures were made of wood and scraps of canvas, but the lack of access to proper tools was apparent. The
prisoners living within the camp came out at the sounds of voices, and Aren’s elbow bumped Keris’s as he muttered, “There’re children.”
Though it shouldn’t be unexpected, given that there were men and women in the camp, it still hit Keris like a punch to the stomach that children were being born into a prison. That they’d never know freedom, despite having never committed a crime themselves. That Petra allowed this to continue was an atrocity, and he wondered what the rest of Valcotta would think if they ever learned the truth about this place.
But he couldn’t focus on that now. If Zarrah sat on the throne, she could put an end to this horror.
“There were men on the beach when we arrived,” Aren answered. “They attacked us, but we killedHis eyes skipped from face to face, hunting for the one who haunted his dreams, sleeping and awake.
There was no sign of her.
That doesn’t mean she’s not here, logic reminded him. She could be asleep in one of the tents.
Could be out hunting. Could be taking a damn piss in the woods. But Keris was tired of being logical, tired of doing the intelligent thing, tired of making the strategic choice. “We understand there is a group of cannibals on this island. Where might we find them?”
Aren’s mouth dropped open with shock, but Daria’s eyebrows only rose. “Why?”
“Because they have a person with them whom we are looking for. A woman, mid-twenties, very pretty. Would have been incarcerated relatively recently.”
“This was not the plan,” Aren said under his breath as he eyed the gathering prisoners, many of whom were armed. “You’re going to get us killed.”
Daria huffed out an amused breath. “That would be Zarrah.”
Keris’s chest clenched, the confirmation that she was here, that this woman knew her, making it hard to breathe. “Where is she?”
“Well,” Daria answered, rocking on her heels and giving him a dark smile. “She was with us until quite recently, but no longer, I’m afraid.”
“We were told by a reputable source that she was being held by a group of cannibals.”
“Yes.” Daria’s smile was all teeth. “She was. ”
Understanding ricocheted through Keris’s core, horror stealing the breath from his chest and making him sway on his feet. He was too late. Too fucking late, and Zarrah … Zarrah … They’d—