Page 56 of The Endless War

It’s—

Keris broke off his internal argument with himself as his skin prickled. He glanced over his shoulder, searching the darkness for what had triggered his instincts. “Did you hear something?”

Aren paused. “All I hear is you. Do you think you can take one step without snapping a twig?”

“Price one pays for growing up civilized,” Keris muttered even as he hunted for motion. Hunted for eyes watching from the shadows. But there was nothing. “I … it’s nothing. Keep going.”

“I can smell the smoke from their fires,” Aren said, starting back down the trail. “Tryto be quiet so that we can—”

Aren’s words cut off as he was jerked skyward, a loud crack filling the air.

Keris stumbled backward, gaping at Aren, who was tangled in some form of net. A trap.

“Cut me down, you idiot!”

Keris moved, grasping the netting and immediately recoiling. “This isn’t rope. It’s—”

“It’s gut,” Aren hissed. “Cut it. There’s a chance they heard their trap deploy.”

Reaching for the knife hidden in his boot, Keris abruptly froze as something sharp jabbed him in the back.

“Pretty faces,” a voice lisped. “We’d like to add them to our collection.”

“LET’S GET YOUfed, girl.” Kian and his soldiers led her into their camp, which was larger and better appointed than that of the rebels.

No, not rebels.Cannibals.

Kian dug into a barrel, discarding sacks of rice in favor of a package of salted meat. The idea of eating made her want to gag, but Zarrah took the jerky she was handed and, after determining it was beef, forced herself to eat, abruptly reminded of how unenthused Daria had always seemed when eating. Why hadn’t she seen the signs? Why hadn’t she asked questions?

Because you didn’t want to know.

“We’ll get you set up with your own tent,” Kian said. “Ain’t no one will hurt you here, no matter what Daria told you. That was one of the conditions—you were to be kept unharmed and well cared for, or the deal was off. You got no reason to trust me, but you can trustthat.”

A clever plan, using the prisoners’ desire for freedom to protect her, and one she wished to know more about. But given the contentiousbeginnings of her interactions with Kian, going straight to the topic might not be the right tactic.

Zarrah paused in her chewing, though her stomach growled for more of the beef jerky in her hand. “How long have you been on this island?”

“Ten years.” Someone threw a log on the fire, illuminating Kian’s face. “Another life. But you’ll not be here that long.”

He was being kind, but what Daria had told her about him lurked in the back of Zarrah’s mind. This man was very much a villain, so all she could trust was that he wouldn’t jeopardize his own chance at freedom.

“You’re wondering what I did to get here?” Kian grinned, revealing his mouthful of gold teeth. “It’s every bit as bad as you might think, no sense denying that, but …” He sighed. “Everyone on this island has done awful things, Zarrah. The worst of things. If you put too much thought to the sort of humanity you’re now surrounded with, you’ll drive yourself to madness. Better to think upon how those here act now, as though each individual is an entirely separate person from the one the Empress condemned.”

There was reason to the advice, but Zarrah couldn’t help but say, “Fair enough, but if what Daria said was true, you and yours do plenty that’s worth judgement.”

Kian grunted, then gave a slow nod. “This is a prison, love. To live as we did before, raising families and caring for our weak, is impossible. Daria and her lot refused to accept that, choosing instead to resort to the worst means to survive rather than deny themselves what they felt was their due. Sacrificing their humanity in order to have everything they wanted. Whereas we deny ourselves and suffer the pain of loss so that we might know ourselves human and not monster.”

The old argument of sacrificing the few to save the many that Zarrah had never much cared for, but having seen the alternative, it was hard to deny. Just as there was no denying that her aunt used this island not just as a prison but as a torture chamber.

Crash!

Zarrah tensed at the noise, which had come from the forest. Shoutsemanated from the same direction; then all fell silent. She took a step toward the trees, habit and instinct driving her to investigate, but Kian caught her arm. “Could be a trap. Daria wants you back; she made that much clear. Those on guard will investigate.”

Zarrah drummed her fingers against her thigh, the compulsion to go out into the woods, to see who was there, almost more than she could resist, though she wasn’t sure why.

“We’ll get word to the rebels that we’ve secured you from Daria and her lot, and they’ll likely make their move soon enough.” He hesitated, then added, “They know everything that happens on this island through the guards on their payroll. They’ve washed their hands of Daria because of the choices she and hers have made.”

Given the revulsion she herself felt, Zarrah could understand that, but it still jarred with Daria’s complete certainty that the rebels were coming for them. Made Zarrah wonder again if it was a myth the woman had created, perhaps motivated by her own delusions, and used to motivate her tribe to remain loyal and strong.

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