Page 60 of The Endless War

Suspicion rose in her chest. “May I see it?”

Reaching a hand inside his coat, Kian extracted a folded piece of paper. “Seemed too good to be true when it first arrived, but we weren’t going to take any chances. That’s why we were on the beach when you arrived. We were waiting for a prisoner drop.”

It did seem too good to be true.

Unfolding the paper, Zarrah took in the message.

Greetings,

This message comes from the distant south, where rebellion rises against the Empress’s rule. It has come to our attention that she has accused her niece, Zarrah Anaphora, of treason and cast her aside like trash, condemning her to Devil’s Island. Zarrah is an individual of grave importance to the rebellion, and we will give much to secure her freedom. Those who assist her and protect her from the monstrous villainy of the prison will be rewarded with their own freedom when we come, for we are above the law. Secure her at all costs, or you will be shown no mercy.

The Commander

Zarrah reread the letter, her eyes snagging onEmpress’s rule.Not once had she heard anyone in Daria’s camp refer to her aunt as the Empress, only by her name or some slur. Who had written this, she could not say, but not for a heartbeat did she believe it was the rebel commander.

Refolding the page, she handed it back to Kian.

“What do you think?” he asked. “Do you believe it legitimate? And more importantly, do you think the sender will follow through on his promise?”

To say otherwise would compromise her safety, so Zarrah nodded. “I believe it is.”

“Do you know why they want you?”

Kian’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, and Zarrah was reminded that he hadn’t become the leader of his tribe, or survived on this island for so long, by being stupid. But while she’d made her fair share of mistakes, she wasn’t stupid either. “Likely for the information I know.”

He leaned back in his chair, gaze going to the artwork. But not before she saw the furrow in his brow. Kian had expected an answer from her, but not the one she’d given. Curiosity demanded she press for his opinions, but caution made her ask instead, “Have you received any more communication?”

He nodded. “The guard the rebels have on payroll told us that if we failed and you ended up in Daria’s belly, the deal was off. Nothing since, though there might be orders now that we have you.” He gestured to the door. “Care to show yourself?”

They left the camp, several of Kian’s warriors following at their heels as they went down to the sunlit beach.

It was smaller than Zarrah had remembered, less than fifty paces of rocks mixed with sand, framed by steep inclines. The water flowed swiftly past in its last loop before descending below the island in the mysterious vortex. On the opposite side of it rose the sheer cliffs rimmed with guard posts, each manned by three soldiers.

“Got yourself a new one, Kian?” one of them called down.

“She got tired of Daria’s menu,” Kian called back, and the guards all laughed. Zarrah’s stomach turned. It appeared the guards were well aware of what the rebels consumed. Her nausea faded as one of the guards rested his elbows on the stone bricks forming the outpost he manned. He glanced sideways at his companions, then lowered one hand, fingers moving in the code used throughout Valcotta’s military.

Hold ground.

Rescue coming.

Await signal.

He moved his hands back inside the outpost as Kian called up, “You might send something to reward the lady for making better life choices. Drink, perhaps?”

“The last time we sent you drink, it all went downyourhatch, Kian,” the guard answered. “The memory of you drunkenly servicing your women on the beach is the source of all of my nightmares.”

“It is my duty to entertain,” Kian cackled, slapping his hand against his thigh, and unease filled Zarrah at the obvious favoritism that the guards showed this tribe over Daria’s. Was it because her tribe had resorted to cannibalism?

One of the prisoners approached, smirking as he leaned close to whisper something in Kian’s ear that only made the tribe leader laugh harder and shout, “Send us libations, my friend! I promise to make it worth your while.”

He then gave Zarrah a lascivious wink.

Despite knowing that this was a show to disguise the real reason they’d come down to the beach, Zarrah gave him a disgusted glare and went back into the camp. Ducking inside the tent she’d been given, Zarrah tucked the canvas under a rock to ensure she was obscured from view before picking up a stick. From memory, she wrote the message Kian had shown her in the dirt, then sat back to stare at the words.

Who had sent it?

Who cared enough, and had power and means, to want to rescue her?

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