Clenching her fists, Zarrah bit down on a scream of frustration. Her goal had been to join them, and now she’d discovered she was bait to lure them into a trap and destroy them. Yet again a pawn.
Only … something didn’t fit.
Zarrah’s skin crawled as her eyes skipped over the message, which seemed no more something her aunt would write than Keris. The Empress might be a monster, but she was a monster with her own form of honor, and it wouldn’t allow her to employ the services of murderers she’d condemned. And it certainly wouldn’t allow her to grant them freedom. Which meant …
The tent canvas abruptly collapsed, crushing her to the ground.
Zarrah snarled, punching and kicking, trying to fight her way loose, but more hands than she could count were holding her down. Yet as she was bound and gagged, one thought played over and over in her head.
There was another player in the game. And she knew exactly who it was.
For years, her aunt had been incarcerating the rebels here rather than executing them. Building their much to the rebels was yet a mystery to Zarrah, but there was no denying that Daria had valued her far
to make a move on the island.
Clenching her fists, Zarrah bit down on a scream of frustration. Her goal had been to join them, and now she’d discovered she was bait to lure them into a trap and destroy them. Yet again a pawn.
Only … something didn’t fit.
Zarrah’s skin crawled as her eyes skipped over the message, which seemed no more something her aunt would write than Keris. The Empress might be a monster, but she was a monster with her own form of honor, and it wouldn’t allow her to employ the services of murderers she’d condemned. And it certainly wouldn’t allow her to grant them freedom. Which meant …
The tent canvas abruptly collapsed, crushing her to the ground.
Zarrah snarled, punching and kicking, trying to fight her way loose, but more hands than she could count were holding her down. Yet as she was bound and gagged, one thought played over and over in her head.
There was another player in the game. And she knew exactly who it was.
EVERYTHING WAS IN motion.
Daria’s contact among the guards was in position, his role made easier by the revelation
that members of Daria’s tribe were particularly fond of certain trees, nurturing them tall and strong. Even now, those trees were being cut down to form a bridge for Daria’s tribe to cross under the cover of darkness.
Which would only be possible if Keris sprung the trap and everything played out as he intended.
“I don’t like this,” Aren muttered. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“You’re just jealous that I get to be the hero and you’re once again relegated to helping people cross a bridge.”
Not rising to Keris’s baiting, Aren exhaled and rubbed at one temple. “I think we should hold off.
Consider other plans that don’t involve handing you over to the enemy.”
“Only a temporary handover,” Keris said. “Besides, it’s too late to go back now. Daria’s people arranged the trade, which means that Kian knows I’m here. Which means so do Petra’s guards. If
Daria doesn’t go through with the trade, they’ll assume that it’s because there’s a strategy in play and be more mindful of guarding their rear.”
“We could lure them onto the island,” Aren argued. “Fight them on ground that Daria controls.”
Keris huffed out a frustrated breath. “The Valcottan soldiers guarding this prison aren’t stupid. If they know that I’m on this island and that they have to come to find me, they’ll bring enough soldiers to slaughter everyone alive. Quit making bad suggestions; battles are supposed to be your
competency.”
“This isn’t a battle,” Aren growled. “It’s a fucking sacrifice, and Lara’s going to castrate me when she discovers I agreed to it.”
“You’ll be fine. She’ll understand. Though it warms my heart to hear you believe my sister values my life over your balls.”
“You two bicker like lovers.” Daria caught hold of Keris’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “It’s time you were silenced, anyway. You’re my prisoner. And you”—she pointed at Aren—“aren’t supposed to be here. So get to the rear.”
Aren’s eyes narrowed, but rather than arguing, he retreated.
“He’s not used to being ordered around,” Keris said. “He’ll try to take control so as to do something heroic. If you value the lives of your people, don’t let him.”
Daria snorted. “Typical man.”
“Zarrah trusts that typical man, so it serves your best interests to keep him alive.”
Daria didn’t answer, only bound his arms behind his back. But then her hands stilled. “Do you love her?”
“Yes.”
She made a noise that he couldn’t interpret, and, curiosity rising, Keris said, “Why? What did she say about me?” What he wanted to ask was whether Zarrah hated him. Whether she’d forgiven him.
Whether she still loved him as he loved her.
“That you have a big cock.”
His jaw dropped, and Daria took advantage, shoving the gag in and tying it around his head so that all he could do was stand there and stare at her.
Meeting his gaze, the woman said, “She said a lot of things, Your Grace, all of which you swiftly proved to be accurate. But on the very small chance you ever get to speak to her again, remember that she is not your queen. She is Valcotta’s empress. Treat her accordingly. Now walk.”
He started up the trail, moving over the bare space at the summit and stepping into Kian’s territory.
What had Zarrah said that he’d already proven? And what did she mean with the comment about him treating Zarrah like an empress and not his queen? And what had he done to give Zarrah cause to believe he no longer loved her?
“Focus, Your Grace,” Daria muttered as they descended the hill to the meeting spot. “None of what you are thinking is pressing.”
She was right, but it wasn’t the threat to his life that made his heart quicken with each step. It was that he was walking toward Zarrah. He’d be in her presence, even if it was only for a moment. A moment that he prayed would undo some of the hurt he’d caused.
Ahead, a clearing appeared, and on the far side of it, a crowd of figures. It was hard to see through the trees, but as they reached the clearing, his eyes found her familiar form.
Zarrah was on her knees, hands bound behind her back, and a gag in her mouth. Thin and dirty, and one of her eyes was swollen. But she was alive.
Slowly, she lifted her head, shock filling her dark gaze as she saw him, but it was swiftly replaced with horror. Zarrah screamed around her gag, thrashing and trying to get free of the men holding her arms. A big man with gold teeth kicked her in the back of the knees, the others pinning her to the ground. “Keep her quiet.”
Blistering rage filled Keris’s chest, his hands balling into fists behind his back, but he held his ground. He was meant to be Daria’s captive, and giving any indication that he was otherwise would signal to these prisoners that plots were afoot.
“You break her, we may have to reconsider this trade, Kian,” Daria shouted. “You might have a hard time proving His Royal Majesty’s identity if we invite Flay over to cut off his face.”
Kian reached down to grab Zarrah by the wrists, hauling her to her feet. Her eyes immediately locked on Keris’s, and she screamed what sounded like run.
“Don’t even think about it,” Daria snarled, jabbing him with her spear. “Let’s get this done, Kian.
Hand Zarrah over.”
“Run,” Zarrah screamed again around her mouthful of fabric. “Fight!”
He wished that were an option, but Daria hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that this wasn’t a battle they could win. While her tribe had greater numbers, at least half weren’t fighters, whereas every one of the men and women behind Kian appeared battle hardened. This was the only way, and if he died so that Zarrah, Aren, and the rest could live, so be it.
“Meet me at the midground,” Kian said. “Then we do the switch.”
Daria didn’t answer, only bound his arms behind his back. But then her hands stilled. “Do you love
“Island honor?” Daria demanded.
“Or may the devil take my soul.”