Page 16 of The Endless War

Given she’d been forcibly dragged into the camp of a group of criminals,relaxingwas the furthest thing from Zarrah’s mind. Yet there was no threat in the woman’s demeanor, so Zarrah risked taking her eyes off her and panned their surroundings. She was in a camp formed of six small buildings made of rough-hewn logs, tarps of what looked like scraps of sail stretched over a handful of small cooking fires. Men and women wandered about, all armed, but it was the two children playing a game with rocks and twigs who caught her eye. Children weren’t condemned to this place, which meant …

“They were born on the island,” the woman said, having followedZarrah’s line of sight. “Common enough, though very few survive. Same for the mothers.”

Did her aunt know about this? Did she care?

A thought for later, given that Zarrah remained trussed in a camp full of criminals, the vast majority of whom were likely murderers. “The others said you’d kill me.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, we will if you cause trouble, that’s true enough. But with a face like yours, Kian’s warning was a self-serving one. I’m sure he took one look at you and decided he wanted you in his harem of women. Bastard acts like King Silas Veliant, the way he collects the pretty ones. Treats them like little queens, it’s true. Unfortunately his pecker is filled with disease, so it comes with a cost, if you get my meaning.”

Zarrah gagged, then said, “Silas Veliant is dead.”

The woman shrugged. “No great loss there, and I’m sure he was swiftly replaced by one of his progeny.”

By Keris.

“As fascinating as whatever fresh gossip you bring from the mainland is, you’ll find it matters little on Devil’s Island,” the woman said. “The name is Daria, by the way.”

Zarrah focused on the woman, who was perhaps a handful of years older than Zarrah was herself. Of average looks, her dark-brown hair was captured in a long braid down her back, her skin a similar hue of brown to Zarrah’s own, and her eyes hazel. Old scars marred her bare arms, the rest of her body covered by patched clothing that needed to be cleaned. “Are you the leader of this group?”

“One of them.” Reaching forward, Daria untied Zarrah’s bonds. “So what did you do to earn a spot in the Empire’s asshole?”

It wasn’t an idle question.

What she’d done to earn her spot in this placematteredto the woman, though whether her crime would keep her in or out of this camp, Zarrah wasn’t entirely certain. What she did know was that telling these people the truth of her identity, the truth of her crime, would see her slaughtered in heartbeats. “Murder.”

“Who did you kill?”

It was more a matter of who shehadn’tkilled, but Zarrah shrugged and said, “Superior officer with wandering hands.”

“You were a soldier, then? You can fight? I don’t mean like a whore in a cathouse brawl, but like a warrior.”

Zarrah met her gaze. “Yes.”

Daria smiled. “Good. As you’ve already seen, we don’t all get along on this island, and we could use good fighters.” Her head tilted. “Name?”

Not only had every person here been sentenced to this prison in the name of the Empress, but Zarrah had personally captured several criminals over the years who’d been incarcerated here, so admitting her real identity would be a fool’s move. But her name was common in Valcotta—indeed, thousands of baby girls had been named in her honor over the years—so it seemed safe enough. “Zarrah.”

Daria’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “All right then, Zarrah. We’ll give you the tour.”

The other woman rose to her feet, then reached a hand down to Zarrah, pulling her upright. A sharp whistle had six others, all armed with spears, approaching. “We’ll get you a weapon when you’ve proven yourself trustworthy,” Daria said as she led the group out of the camp. “As you might expect, very few who end up in this shithole are deserving of the word.”

“Fair.” As she spoke, Zarrah felt a wave of déjà vu. A prisoner once more, and again without weapons, again at the mercy of those who controlled the prison, again embroiled in unfamiliar politics and schemes that she didn’t quite understand. But Zarrah hadn’t been helpless in Vencia, and she wasn’t helpless now. “Has anyone ever escaped?”

Everyone in the group laughed, and her cheeks warmed. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don’t worry, everyone asks the same thing,” Daria answered, still chuckling.

“It’s just a matter of when,” one of the men added, his teeth bright white against his dark-brown skin. “Name’s Saam.”

“Quit gaping at her, you jackass.” Daria poked the man in the side. “Kian won’t be best pleased at losing pretty Zarrah here and might aimto take her back. Which you will make easy, given that you’ll never see him coming.” She glanced sideways at Zarrah. “Unless you’re of a mind to join Kian, don’t wander alone, you get my meaning?”

Zarrah nodded, though as she dug through her memory, what she dredged up was that Kian had been more wary of these prisoners than they were of him.

They headed southwest, passing a graveyard with dozens of stone markers of those who had lived and died in the prison. The warriors accompanying them spread out as they walked through the pines, feet silent on the cushioned earth and their eyes constantly roving. Looking for threats.

What were their crimes?Zarrah wondered, for no one ended up in this place without having done something terrible.

You’re here,a voice whispered inside her head.Not because you committed unspeakable murder but to teach you a lesson about men.

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