After Bermin was gone, Keris pulled the stupid hat from his head and then removed his blindfold, wiping blood from his eye. When he lowered his hand, it was to find Lara glaring at him. “You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” she snarled at him, the bones and skulls of her headdress bouncing against her cheeks. “He wouldn’t have attacked me.”
“Because you’re a woman?” Keris huffed out an amused breath, then pressed a hand to his stomach as pain lanced outward. “Bermin Anaphora doesn’t hesitate to murder children, Lara. With my own eyes, I watched him light a house on fire so that the family hiding inside would burn. If you think he wouldn’t have put a boot in your stomach, it’s because you don’t know him like I do.”
“I’ve been kicked before.” She crossed her arms, headdress askew. “But this is a waste of breath. Bermin has confirmed our biggest uncertainty but also our greatest fear. Zarrah is alive, but very much in jeopardy. Bermin wouldn’t have reacted like that if he were confident she’s safe.”
They moved into the captain’s quarters, one of Aren’s crew passing around hot drinks to ease the cold. Keris sat on one of the chairs, waving away the mulled wine.
The cannibals won’t eat her—they only eat their enemies.
Except Zarrah was an Anaphora, which made her the enemy of everyone on that island. He needed his wits now more than ever, which meant not a drop of anything but water.
The others at the table began to suggest options, but Keris barely heard a word as his mind drifted into itself. She was so close. So fucking close, and yet he couldn’t get to her.
You should have brought an army.
You should have started a war.
You should have set the world on fire.
Shut up, he screamed at the voice. Shoving his chair back, Keris rose and went to the window.
Another chair scraped backward, and then his sister was at his elbow, headdress discarded on the table. “I remember what it felt like to wonder if it is hopeless.”
“I know it’s not hopeless,” he answered. “What I wonder is how high a cost I’ll have to pay.”
“Is there a limit?”
He hesitated. “If there is, I haven’t reached it yet.”
Silence stretched between them, and Keris waited for her judgement. Waited for her to say that Zarrah wasn’t worth so many lost lives and that it was better to turn back.
A loud thud sounded and Lara twitched. Keris said, “It’s just driftwood hitting the hull. The seas around here are full of it, especially close to the island entrance.”
Their eyes locked, realization striking at the same time, though it was Lara who spoke. “When we were surveying the pier, did anyone see them making an effort to prevent driftwood from entering the channel into the island?”
Aren frowned, then shook his head. “No.”
“If a prisoner is able to pass down the channel, is there any reason a sizable piece of driftwood wouldn’t be able to do the same?”
Keris tensed, his heart latching on to this bit of hope even as his head screamed that the solution couldn’t be so simple.
“Lunacy,” Jor interjected. “Even if you aren’t turned to pulp against the channel walls, this isn’t Ithicana—the water is freezing. It’s snowing, for God’s sake.”
Lara shrugged. “I didn’t ask if it would be easy, only if it would be possible to get past the guards on the pier using driftwood as cover.”
“Maybe.” Aren rubbed his chin. “I’ve not ever seen anything like it, but the island draws the current into that channel, along with everything in it. The guards would constantly see driftwood pass—likely enough so that they barely notice it. In the dark, if you kept low, they wouldn’t see you.”
“You aren’t actually considering going in totally blind?” Jor demanded, then threw up his hands in disgust. “All that will happen is whoever goes in will end up as much a captive as Zarrah. This is a prison—the way out is the problem.”
“But not the most urgent problem,” Keris snapped. “You heard Bermin’s soldiers—Zarrah’s in the hands of cannibals. Rescuing her from them is the foremost concern; getting out of the prison itself is secondary. We wait any longer and all we might rescue is bones! Even if I have to do it alone, I’m going now!”
“Then go,” Jor shouted at him. “But don’t expect a rescue!”
“It’s not your call, Jor,” Aren said, then jerked his chin at the rest of the crew who were present. “After dark, we’ll get as close as we can. The Valcottans won’t buy another excuse for us lingering another day in these waters, so we need to move now. Let’s go catch ourselves some driftwood.”
The other king stood, as did the rest of the Ithicanians, all of them filing out of the room until only Lara and Keris remained.
Lara was quiet, fussing with the buckle on her sword belt. Then she said, “Even if you free her, Zarrah may not be grateful. Aren certainly wasn’t. His anger at seeing me came close to hindering our escape more than once.”
“I don’t expect gratitude. I…” Keris scrubbed a hand over his hair. “I…I just don’t want her to be punished for making the mistake of choosing me.”
Silence stretched between them, and he could feel his sister’s scrutiny. Then she said, “It wasn’t a mistake.”
Surprise froze his tongue, and Keris lifted his head to meet her gaze, waiting for the axe to fall. Because Lara disliked him and there wasn’t a chance that—
“You are an irritating, egotistical prick.” Her breath caught. “But the only flaw in Zarrah’s choice in you was that all the world was against it. They never gave you a chance.”
Emotion twisted his stomach because what she was saying…it wasn’t just about his relationship with Zarrah. It was about his relationship with her. His sister, who’d been stolen as a child, only to be found, lost again to Ithicana, and then again to the consequences of his actions. Lara’s words weren’t quite forgiveness, but…they were something. A candle in the night. “Lara, I—”
The color in Lara’s cheeks abruptly disappeared. “What’s that godawful smell?”
Sniffing the air, Keris started to say, “It’s”—then Lara lurched and puked on his boots—“dinner.”
“Oh, God.” She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry. Normally the seasickness eases after this long on the water, but I can’t seem to shake it this time.”
More confirmation of what he’d already suspected, so he said, “Congratulations,” hating the selfish part of him that wondered how this would affect Aren’s choice to help him with the rescue.
She gaped at him. “What?”
“Congratulations on your pregnancy. I’ve lost count of my nieces and nephews, but this one will be special.”
“No…no, I’m not…”
“You most definitely are,” he said. “I grew up in the harem, sister. You’re not the first pregnant woman I’ve seen vomit over the smell of cooking.”
Silence.
“How is this possible?” she finally whispered, turning away from Keris to stare out the window.
The question wasn’t directed at him, but he didn’t like seeing her this…rattled. So he said, “I’m not really the ideal messenger for this information, but when a man and a woman—”
“I know how babies are made, Keris!”
He shrugged. “Just checking. There was the possibility that all your training was dedicated to learning how to poke holes into a man and not learning what happens when a man pokes you in—”
“If you say it, I’ll stab you in the face.”
The unease in his guts faded in the face of her anger, and Keris rocked on his heels, eyeing his sister for a long moment before asking, “You don’t want a child?”
“No. Yes.” Lara pressed her hands to her face, then dropped them to meet his eyes. “We were taking precautions.”
“I’ve been told the only certain method is abstinence, though I’m not one to judge.”
Lara glared at him. “The Ithicanians are going to think I got pregnant to protect myself. To earn their favor.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Yes!” Lara paced the room. “To use a child as a shield to protect myself is selfish and disgusting. They already hate me. No need to make it worse.”
Keris hesitated, uncertain of whether this was a conversation that he should involve himself in. But he was so weary of good things being soured by circumstances. “And you think not having a child is going to change the way they feel?”
Lara went still, her cheeks sucking in as though she were biting them.
“You’re the queen,” he said. “Which means the vast majority of your subjects don’t see you as a person. What you think, how you feel, how you suffer? They don’t give a shit. All they care about is how the choices you make affect their lives. Putting yourself through hell will change nothing for Lara the queen and destroy everything for Lara the woman.”
Her eyes went distant as his words sank into her thoughts, likely nothing Aren hadn’t already said to her a hundred times before. He watched her see the logic and reject it, frustration building in his stomach because this had nothing to do with what Ithicana thought of her and everything to do with how she felt about herself. “You deserve to be happy, Lara. If this is what you want, please don’t allow the joy of it to be destroyed by individuals who don’t care about you.”
Silence stretched between them, and he didn’t break it.
“It’s not your problem,” she finally said. “Though I’d ask you to keep this development to yourself. Aren needs to be focused on finding a way to get you out once you’re in, not on my…condition.”
Deception had been her downfall, yet it remained burned into his sister’s soul. She’d been raised on it, learned to live and breathe it, and though she had to know that it did her no favors, Keris could still see Lara clinging to it like an old friend. “Except it’s not just you anymore, is it?”
Lara’s gaze sharpened. “Pregnant or not, I’m the one who will figure out a way to extricate you and Zarrah.”
He did need her. But that didn’t mean he was willing to be used as a tool for her self-destruction. So Keris said, “I’m not going to say a damn thing to anyone, but perhaps remind yourself of the outcome of the last time you kept secrets from Aren.”
The blow struck like a knife, and Lara flinched. “You’re an asshole.” She twisted on her heels and stormed from the room.
Sighing, he followed the thud of her bootheels back onto the deck, watching as Lara strode directly to Aren, who was backlit by the setting sun. The other man set down the length of rope he was holding, brow furrowed as he followed her to the empty fore of the ship.
Keris turned his back on them and went to the rail. “How go the fishing efforts?”
“Got what we need, Your Grace,” an Ithicanian said, gesturing to the bleached trunks of trees fixed to the ship with ropes.
Keris stared at the driftwood bobbing up and down on the sea, the water dark and frigid and nothing like the turquoise oceans off the coast of Maridrina. As deadly as Ithicana’s waters, for the cold was mindless and indiscriminate.
“We’ll tow them as close as we can with the longboats,” Jor said, scowling. “The less time you spend in that water, the more likely you are not to die. Not that I’d miss you.”
Keris was inclined to agree about the temperature. Especially given he wouldn’t be climbing out to warm fires and hot drinks, but rather to face frigid night air and the worst criminals Valcotta had to offer.
“No sense delaying,” Jor said. “Have something to eat. Take a shit. Do whatever you feel you need to do before you get into the water, because there won’t be opportunity later.”
“I’m ready,” Keris answered, the thought of eating turning his stomach. Lifting his gaze from the driftwood, he stared into the fog in the direction of the island. If all went according to plan, he’d be on the same ground as Zarrah within the hour. Beneath the same set of stars, never mind that they were hidden by mist.
A cough broke the silence, and both he and Jor turned to find Lara and Aren standing behind them. Aren was grinning like a fiend, his arm wrapped around Lara. Her eyes were red and her cheeks damp, but the agitation that had radiated from her moments ago was gone.
“You look awfully tickled, given the circumstances,” Jor said. “Why are you grinning like a madman?”
Aren looked down at Lara, who smiled and nodded, and then the King of Ithicana blurted out, “Lara’s pregnant. There’s going to be another Kertell for you to watch over, you old bastard.”
Jor gaped at them, then flung his arms around the pair of them, pounding Aren on the back. “Let’s hope the little bugger inherits their mother’s brains, because I won’t survive another idiot like you!”
Word spread through the Ithicanians, smiles breaking over their faces and soft words of congratulations filling the evening air, and Keris stepped away. This wasn’t his moment; it was theirs.
Walking to the front of the ship, he checked that all his weapons were firmly in place. That his boots were tied tight. That his hair was fastened away from his face.
“I’ll get you out.”
He turned to find Lara behind him, the pieces of blond hair that had escaped her braids blowing in the wind.
“I’m not sure how, yet,” she said. “But between Aren and I, we’ll get you two out.”
They stood in silence while darkness fell and the ship sailed toward Devil’s Island. As the glow of its entrance appeared, Keris said, “If things go badly for me, help Sarhina take the throne. She’ll be twice the ruler of any of our idiot brothers.”
“Does she want to be queen?”
“Not in the slightest,” he answered. “Which is exactly why she’ll do a good job of it.”
Aren abandoned the helm and approached. “We’re going to stop here and go the rest of the way by longboat. We’ve got supplies, though there is only so much you can take in. You ready?”
Could one ever be ready for something like this? “Looking forward to it.”
Aren handed him a wax-wrapped package. “Once you’re in and safe, put some of this into a fire at night and cover your eyes. The glow is bright enough to blind permanently, which is why we’ll see it.”
“And if I don’t survive long enough to do so?”
“We’ll do what we can for her, within reason,” Lara answered. “I won’t promise more than that.”
Lara told you that she won’t risk her life for Zarrah, but in the moment, she’ll change her mind. And she can’t keep dodging death forever. So please use this journey south to ask yourself just how much you’re really willing to lose, Aren’s voice said inside his head, and Keris reached out to grip her shoulders. “I’m not willing to lose you again, sister. Don’t do anything you shouldn’t.”
She bit her bottom lip, then nodded. “Good luck.”
Keris clambered over the rail and down the ladder, landing with a thud in the now-lowered longboat. He sat on a bench, the wood wet and cold through his trousers, a prelude of what was to come.
Moments later, Aren landed with a soft thud, settling himself next to Keris, eyes on the faint glow cutting through the fog. “Row.”