Page 89 of The Endless War

Zarrah could only imagine the shock the rebels had endured when Lara had revealed herself. A bold move, and incredibly risky. But Lara had been desperate.

Lara frowned, then added, “I don’t know if it matters, but it was only you they cared about rescuing, not the others. From what Aren has told me of the prisoners’ …diet, I believe there might be a desire on the commander’s part to distance himself from those who were incarcerated.”

Guilt soured Zarrah’s stomach, because she remembered the almost religious belief the prisoners held that the commander intended to rescue them. To learn otherwise would be a significant blow, especially if the rebellion refused to accept them back. Yet she also remembered her own visceral reaction to seeing Daria stuff corpses into barrels, the illness she’d felt upon realizing that the meat consumed right in front of her had been the flesh of Kian’s tribe members. Expecting the commander and his soldiers to ignore the atrocity and accept the tribe back into the fold was unreasonable.

All of it was unfair, andall of itwas her aunt’s doing.

“They protected me,” she said. “Took me in and cared for me, ensured that I never had to endure the horror they faced on a daily basis. I … I don’t condone what they did, but I also see now that they had no choice if they wished to survive.”

Lara took a sip of her tea, expression thoughtful. “Choosing to do the unthinkable to survive is still a choice, and one they made with clear eyes. Only they can say whether the consequences of what they did are worth the life they still possess.”

“Well said.” Zarrah wrapped her cold hands around her cup. “Yet I feel that I owe them. That I have an obligation to do what I can for them, not just abandon them to judgement.”

“That will cost you,” Lara said. “What they did is morally reprehensible, and to be seen as supporting them may turn others against you. Politically, it’s not a good move.”

“What would you do?”

“I’m not known for well-thought decisions,” Lara said, chuckling, “so I’m not sure I’m the one to ask. But I will say that I believe thereis something to be said in giving people a chance at redemption. What they make of that opportunity is on them.”

Zarrah took a too-deep sip of tea, knowing that it was not Daria’s tribe Lara spoke of, then winced as the hot liquid burned her tongue. Impossible as it was to believe, given the harm Keris had done to Ithicana, Zarrah could see that he’d earned his sister’s forgiveness during their travels. More than that, he’d earned her loyalty. And her protection.

How could she explain her state of mind to Lara when she didn’t understand herself? When she couldn’t organize her fractured and ever-changing feelings, over which she had nearly no control? “There are things I must do,” Zarrah finally said. “For myself, and for Valcotta, and I’m afraid that if I allow Keris close again, they will not be done my way, but his.”

“Because you don’t trust him.”

Zarrah forced herself to meet Lara’s eyes, and it was so painfully similar to looking into Keris’s that her tenuous composure shuddered. “Because I don’t trust myself.”

Lara’s mouth tightened with sympathy, and she gave a slow nod. “I understand.”

“I know that I’m going to hurt him.” Zarrah took a deep breath to steady her voice, despite knowing it to be a lost cause. “And I know that means you and I will never be friends. But I hope that doesn’t mean we must be enemies, Your Grace.”

Silence stretched between them, the only noise the sea striking the ship’s hull as they raced over the waves, the roughness of the water mirroring the turbulence of her thoughts.

Then Lara reached across the table and took hold of one of Zarrah’s hands. Her skin was as marked with scars as Zarrah’s own, palms rough with calluses, yet traces of pink lacquer still gleamed on a few of her fingernails. The juxtaposition somehow made the Queen seem so painfully human, and Zarrah swallowed grief at the friendship that they might have had if circumstances had been different. If they weren’t who they were, because Lara knew as well as Zarrah what it was like to be used as a weapon.

“I see why he loves you,” Lara said. “You are everything eachother is not, perfect foils, and I fear what he will become without you.” She squeezed Zarrah’s hand, then let go and rose. “And you without him.”

With that, the Queen of Ithicana left the room, leaving Zarrah feeling more alone than she had before.

“KERIS. KERIS, WAKEup.”

He groaned, eyelids peeling open even as pain slapped him in the face, his whole body still feeling like it burned. A face swam above him, and he blinked, focusing on Lara.

“You need to wake up,” she said. “We’re in sight of the Valcottan coast.”

His sluggish mind struggled to process her words, but he finally managed to say, “Whatever you drugged me with, don’t give it to me again.”

“You needed rest.”

“That wasn’t rest,” he muttered, still feeling the terror of the nightmare that had repeated over and over.

Getting an elbow under himself, he tried to get upright, but pain turned his vision white. “Fuck,” he said through his teeth. “It hurts worse than it did before.”

“Anything I give you will knock you out,” Lara said, easing him up.

“Then pain it is.” It took a fair bit of self-control not to screamas she shoved cushions behind his back. “Your nursemaid skills leave something to be desired, sister.”

Lara snorted. “You’re lucky you’re not a ripening corpse.”

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