Page 71 of The Endless War

Bermin tilted his head back and laughed. “You might not see the strings attached to you, cousin, but they are there. So many little strings making you dance and dance—”

She screamed and lifted her sword, but instead of slashing it down on Bermin’s throat, she drew back a foot and kicked him as hard as she could between the legs.

He squealed in agony, folding in on himself, but she was already turning away. “We need to get up that cliff,” she said to Keris, her voice emotionless. “Much of your plan is still in play, only we’ve lost the element of surprise.”

Keris only cast a backward glance at Bermin before heading to the channel. He paused long enough to collect some weapons, tuckingthem into his boots and belt, then, without a word, swam out into the channel to the floating rope. He climbed, not once looking down.

“You’ll be back in his bed before dawn,” Bermin shrieked. “You won’t be able to help yourself, little Zarrah.”

A quiver ran through her body, but instead of allowing her rage to drive her to react, Zarrah stepped out into the icy water, swimming across the channel as the current pulled her toward the rope.

Her body trembled as she heaved herself up, climbing toward the still-raging battle, Keris having already disappeared over the top. But just before she reached the summit, she heard Bermin shriek, “You’ll never be your own master, Zarrah! Not while you’re Maridrina’s whore.”

He was right.

Swallowing down the truth, Zarrah rolled over the top of the cliff and, blade in hand, threw herself into the chaos.

THE ONLY GOODthing about climbing into a nightmare was that it gave him no chance to think about the one left below.

Bodies were strewn everywhere, some still, some screaming and clutching spurting wounds. For a heartbeat, he was frozen; then a man in a Valcottan uniform ran screaming toward him, and instinct took over.

Jerking one of his purloined weapons free of his belt, Keris met the attack with a crash of metal. Only the endless lessons Otis had forced upon him kept the Valcottan from killing him instantly, but for once, Keris didn’t hold back.

He couldn’t afford to.

There is no sacrifice I won’t make to stop it in its tracks.Her words filled his head as he parried blow after blow, then plunged his blade through the man’s guts.

Was that the only reason she’d come for him? To end the war?

The man dropped at his feet, screaming, but Keris refused to allowhimself to feel anything. Only lifted his weapon to attack another soldier, driving them back to make space for Zarrah to climb over.

If she was even climbing.

Shut up!Her snarl echoed through his thoughts, and he flinched, feeling her rage even as he engaged another soldier. The man was already bleeding from another wound, weak and staggering, and Keris mechanically stabbed him before glancing over his shoulder.

“Keris!” Aren’s voice reached his ears over the chaos, and he caught sight of the taller man, Daria defending his back. Both were blood splattered, but very much alive.

“We need to go!” Aren shouted. “We need to get off this island before they signal the naval vessels!”

“Where is Zarrah?” Daria demanded.

She hadn’t climbed over the edge. Had she gone back to finish Bermin? What if he’d attacked her? Hurt her? What if she’d fallen in the water?

He needed to go back.

“Keris, we need to go!”

Ignoring Aren, he raced to the edge of the cliff, ready to jump over, but then she appeared.

Rolling over the rocky lip, Zarrah was on her feet, weapon immediately in hand. Without even looking, she raced past him. “Get across the bridge! Go!”

Orders were shouted all around. By Valcottans, by prisoners, by Aren and Zarrah.

It was madness, people rushing every direction. Soldiers and prisoners alike fighting and dying.

He tripped over bodies, fell, then was on his feet. Hunting for her familiar shape, trying to find her in the growing darkness. Trying to find Aren. Trying to find Daria.

“It’s the Veliant King,” a Valcottan screamed. “Kill him! Kill the rat!”

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