Page 148 of The Endless War

Zarrah threw her weight backward, fighting against the soldier holding her. “Keris!” she screamed. “Keris, I’m here!”

Then the Usurper was on her.

Fingers caught hold of her hair, slamming her against the wall of the tunnel. Zarrah fell to her knees, only to be kicked in the kidneys.

She screamed in pain, trying to roll, to regain her feet, but she couldn’t do it with her wrists bound.

A foot struck her in the ribs with a crunch of breaking bone, flipping her over. The Usurper knelt on her chest and slapped her, nails raking across Zarrah’s cheek. “You think he’ll still want you if you’re ugly?” she screamed. “Do you think he’ll march his army for you if your face is in tatters? You’ll need me then because no one else will want you!”

Zarrah screamed as the monster clawed at her face; then one of the soldiers was pulling her off. “Empress, they’re in the tunnel. We need to flee!”

For a heartbeat, Zarrah thought the Usurper would think shredding her face worth the delay, but then she snarled, “Carry her! We need to reach the boat!”

Everything was agony, her head spinning, but she heard Keris’s voice echoing through the tunnels. “Zarrah!”

Spitting blood, she grinned wildly at the Usurper. “It’s a Veliantwho is hunting you,Auntie.I doubt you can run fast enough.”

For the first time in her life, Zarrah saw fear in Petra Anaphora’s eyes.

“KERIS!”

His name filtered up the tunnel as his feet struck the ground. Pushing past Jor, he took a few steps, the smoke and dust making it hard to breathe. But it did nothing to muffle her screams of agony.

Something in him snapped.

Wrenching the torch from Jor’s hands, Keris broke into a run, his companions’ cries of warning barely registering in his ears.

The tunnel had been made by the hands of men, the ceiling high but the walls narrow. Too narrow to fight with a sword, so Keris pulled a knife. Caution screamed at him to slow his pace, warned him that ambush could be waiting around each bend. But the echo of Zarrah’s screams of agony drowned it out.

He was going to cut Petra’s goddamned heart out.

The tunnel reached a set of stone stairs, and he descended in leaps, his torch casting man-shaped shadows on the walls. His breathcame in ragged gasps, a stitch forming in his side even as the scent of mildew and moisture filled his nose.

Metal flashed.

Keris slammed himself sideways into the tunnel wall as a knife flew past him. Snarling, he caught his balance and threw his own blade at the shadow ahead of him. The figure gasped, then fell, clutching at the hilt of the knife.

Batting aside the dying soldier’s hands, Keris wrenched his weapon free. “Veliant scum,” the soldier wheezed. “Your whore will—” His words cut off as Keris’s heel crushed his throat.

Faintly, he heard the rhythmic drum of footfalls ahead, but it was muffled by the noise of water. Holding the torch ahead of him, Keris slowed his pace as he stepped out into a cavern.

It was massive, and unlike the tunnel, a product of nature. Overhead, stalactites dangled above an underground river, too wide and fierce to cross without risking one’s life. A footpath wove down between the stalagmites protruding from the cave’s floor, leading to a wooden bridge that stretched above the raging water. Figures carrying torches moved across it, and Keris’s eyes immediately went to Zarrah’s shape slung over the shoulder of one of them. She lifted her head, the torchlight revealing that the side of her face was a mask of blood.

And all he saw was red.

Shoving his bloody knife between his teeth, Keris drew his sword as he raced down the path. Two of the figures broke away from the rest, taking up positions blocking the bridge. Then, to his horror, one pressed his torch to the wooden planks.

No.

The word echoed through the cavern, and Keris realized that he’d howled it a heartbeat before his sword clashed with one of the soldier’s blades. He spun away, then threw his torch at the man, setting the bridge ablaze. Screams ricocheted off the walls as the burning brand smashed the soldier in the face, and he rolled sideways into the river, disappearing beneath the rapids.

But it was too late. The bridge was already aflame, and the other soldier still blocked his path.

“Keris, wait!” Saam shouted, but as the soldier’s eyes flickedupstream to where his companions had appeared, Keris struck.

He’d resisted it all his life, this skill. Refused lessons from his father’s weapons masters and dragged his heels when Otis had made him practice, but against his will, it had sunk into his soul. Had been kept in check until now only because he hadn’t wanted blood on his hands. Hadn’t want to kill.

But Keris wanted this man dead.

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