She struggled and kicked, driving the toes of her boots into the soldier’s body and slamming her bound wrists against his back. Threw her weight from side to side, every hiss of pain or stumble fueling her efforts despite the agony it inflicted upon her broken ribs.
“You betray Valcotta by remaining loyal to her,” she growled as the soldier caught hold of one of her legs to stop her kicking. “She’s a liar. A murderer. A monster.”
“She is Empress.”
“She is a usurper!” Wasted words, Zarrah knew, for these men had not heard the confession in the stadium. Even if they had, she doubted their fanatical loyalty would be swayed.
But even the slightest doubt might buy her time, for as they reached the mouth of the cave, Zarrah knew she was running short of it.
The river poured out of the cave in a great spraying arc, plunging over a hundred feet to join the great river below. And if they reached the boat waiting for them before Keris and his companions caught up, the Usurper would escape.
And a monster like Petra Anaphora could not be allowed to run free.
“Hurry!” the Usurper hissed, leading the way down the narrow path cut into the side of the cliff face. “They won’t be able to hold the bridge forever, and even if it burns, he’ll find a way across the river eventually. We need to be gone before he does.”
Zarrah’s heart skipped. What if Keris tried to swim across, not knowing about the falls? She left off her struggles and lifted her head, seeing the waterfall had turned orange and red in the sunset.
“The boat is waiting,” one of the soldiers said, and Zarrah cursed. For while the Usurper had not remembered the acoustics of the stadium, she had most certainly remembered the escape route the game masters took during the riots. She was prepared.
The pathway switched back, leading down, and Zarrah fought the urge to scream as she lost sight of the falls. “Keris!”
What if he fell and she didn’t see?
What if he already had, his body broken and caught in the endless flow at the base of the waterfall?
Panic rose in her chest, making it hard to breathe, but Zarrah dragged in an agonized breath. If he’s fallen, then you must stop her. Whatever it takes, you must stop her.
Zarrah slammed her weight sideways.
The soldier gasped as he swayed toward the deadly drop, letting go of her bound wrists to fling his arm out for balance.
She took advantage.
Lifting her torso, she twisted sideways. As his arm clamped around her body to try to lock her into place, Zarrah bit down on his ear.
The man screamed, shoving her away from him, only to lose his footing. He fell sideways off the cliff, his screams fading until they cut off abruptly.
Zarrah landed on her back on the pathway, the impact knocking the wind from her chest, the pain of her broken ribs making the world spin. Get up, she ordered herself. Fight.
She eased onto her hands and knees, lifting her face.
Only to find the tip of a blade pressed between her eyes.
The Usurper stood before her with a sword in hand, her last remaining bodyguard standing behind her on the narrow path. “He’s not coming, dear one,” she said. “So I think it safe to say that your usefulness is at its end.”
A shadow moved above, soundless as a cat.
“You keep saying that he’s not coming, Auntie,” Zarrah said with a wild grin as Keris jumped from the switchback above, landing behind the soldier. “Every time, you are wrong.”
Keris drew his sword. “Let her go, Petra.”
The Usurper stumbled away from Keris as her bodyguard attacked. She tripped over Zarrah and fell against the rock wall. Zarrah reached for her with bound wrists, catching hold of her leg to keep her from running.
The Usurper fell, her sword sliding up the path. She crawled forward, but Zarrah held on. If she escaped into the cavern, there might be other ways out. She might get away. She might come back, ever remaining Zarrah’s nightmare.
Zarrah could not let her go.
She clambered up the older woman’s body, bound wrists not stopping her fingers from closing around her throat.
Zarrah squeezed.
The Usurper’s eyes widened, and she clawed at Zarrah’s hands, skin purpling. “This is for my mother,” Zarrah said. “For Yrina. For Valcotta.”
She heard Keris grunt behind her, then the scream of the soldier as he was tossed off the edge of the cliff.
“But most of all,” Zarrah whispered, “it’s for me.”
The Usurper went still, staring into Zarrah’s eyes. She twitched and jerked; then, with a last burst of strength, the Usurper threw her weight sideways.
Zarrah gasped, trying to counter the motion. But it was too late.
They were falling.