The Inadequate Heir, page 15
Zarrah flinched, looking away. “One night’s misstep. And one that will not happen again.”
“Don’t you lie to me!” Her aunt’s palm cracked against her cheek, the pain making Zarrah’s eyes water. “Don’t you lie, girl. This was not the first night, nor even the second. Do you think you aren’t watched?”
Zarrah’s blood ran cold, though instinct told her that if the Empress knew everything, she’d be on her way to be executed for treason.
Her aunt pressed her fingers to her temples, drawing in a deep breath. Then she fixed Zarrah with a steady gaze that seemed to see into her soul. “I know it is hard, dear one. Always having to hold yourself above the rest, never a moment’s respite. I know what it’s like to want to lose yourself in a lover’s touch, or to drink and laugh until dawn with comrades. But those are pursuits denied women such as you and me. Women who rule, or who are destined to rule, must never let their guard down. Never lose their focus.”
Zarrah gave a tight nod, knowing that her aunt lived by her words. That she held herself to the same standard of conduct.
“I don’t want to lose you, my love.” Her aunt stepped closer, cupping her cheek. “If I’m hard on you, know that is why. But if my path is no longer the one you wish to follow …”
“It is!” Alarm filled Zarrah’s chest, fear that because of one mistake, her aunt would send her away. “It’s all I want.”
Liar, a voice whispered in her head, but she shoved it away.
Her aunt’s eyes glinted liquid bright, and she scrubbed at them. “It’s rare that you remind me of your mother, for she was ever impetuous. Ever seeking life’s pleasures, no matter the risks that came with them. But you remind me of her today, and that terrifies me.”
A tear rolled down her aunt’s cheek, and Zarrah stared at it in horror, having never seen the Empress weep before. To be the cause of such grief made her ill.
“It was your mother’s recklessness that got her killed. I told her not to travel so close to the border. Told her it wasn’t safe, but she was desperate to visit her lover, and he was to meet her there for an assignation.”
Zarrah gaped, having never heard this before. “I don’t remember a lover …”
“She hid her lovers from you out of respect for your father, may his soul rest in everlasting peace.” Her aunt smoothed the fabric of her trousers. “Like yesterday, I remember the news reaching us in Nerastis that the villa had been raided by the Maridrinians. How my heart plummeted and fear took over as we rode as fast as we could.” Her voice caught. “And when the wind blew over us, carrying that smell, I knew we were too late.”
Zarrah’s own eyes burned with tears, the words dragging up emotions that she fought so hard to keep buried.
“They’d lined the road with the bodies of every soul who lived at the villa.” Her aunt’s eyes were distant as she spoke. “I remember searching them for your face, praying that you’d escaped, that you were safe. And when I found you tied beneath your mother’s body, covered in gore and flies, I thought I’d lost you.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “And then you looked up at me.”
Tears poured down Zarrah’s cheeks, because that moment was burned into her soul. Her aunt, her empress, her savior.
“Silas Veliant stole my sister from me,” her aunt said. “But he unwittingly gave me an heir who will carry on my legacy. Who will ensure that he and all his brood will pay for their crimes. Who will never put down her weapon in our Endless War.” Her eyes bored into Zarrah’s. “You will give me my vengeance, won’t you, Zarrah? You will be my weapon against him, and all those that come after him?”
Zarrah swallowed hard but nodded. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. On my honor, vengeance will be yours.”
THREE NIGHTS IN a row, midnight had come and gone without Valcotta making an appearance.
The first night she hadn’t shown, he’d been terrified something had happened to her. That by leaving her alone on the roof as he had, he’d unwittingly condemned her to a dark fate. Or that she’d been identified as having been with him during the roundup and was being punished. He’d debated going to the Valcottan side of Nerastis to search for her before abandoning the notion. In the city itself, it would be a needle in a haystack, and he was not fool enough to go lurking about the garrison in the hopes of finding her.
Those initial fears had diminished when he’d rooted through reports from their spies the following day, none of which mentioned the death or punishment of a senior Valcottan officer. What they did mention was that Empress Petra herself was back in Nerastis. Her presence provided a probable explanation for Valcotta’s absence on the second night, for some duties could not be set aside. Yet by the third night, with the Empress once again departed south, Keris began to question if Valcotta’s absence was by choice.
If, for whatever reason, she no longer wanted to see him.
Which of course meant that his head was consumed with endless theories of what her reason might be. That she’d discovered his identity. Or he’d offended her in some manner. Or she’d gotten what she’d wanted from him.
Or what he’d revealed to her about himself wasn’t to her liking.
“What did you think?” he muttered as he walked through Nerastis, having left Aileena eating candy and counting her coins in her room. “She’s a soldier, and now she knows you’re a scholar who carries books around in his pocket.”
It would have been one thing if it had been about a serious topic, but of course, it had been one about stars and silly folktales. Something to be read to children. He kicked a loose cobble, watching it spin off into the shadows, cursing himself for allowing her to see a part of himself that he normally kept hidden. For letting down the wall of sarcasm and indifference that years of mockery and contempt had forced him to build so high.
“This is the last night. If she isn’t there, I’ll know.”
In truth, it was the last night he could risk it. Aileena had warned him that the hours he was supposedly spending in her company were raising eyebrows, her mistress going so far as to suggest he intended her for a formal mistress. And to be seen as holding that much of his favor would put the courtesan at risk.
Raina’s sightless eyes flickered across his vision, and Keris squeezed his own shut for a heartbeat, sucking in deep breaths to control the twist of guilt in his stomach. It was better if Valcotta didn’t come. Better if she stayed away from him.
And yet as he finally made it to the dam, he couldn’t curb the swell of anticipation. The hope that he’d find her standing on the far side of the spillway.
Wasted hope, because as he rounded the curve of the dam, it was to find the edges of the spillway had crumbled on the Valcottan side, widening the gap to an impossible jump. Beyond, there was nothing but shadows.
YOU MUST STRIVE for perfection. Her aunt’s parting words echoed through her ears. To be above reproach so that no one will question your fitness to rule.
For nearly four days, Zarrah had done just that. Up at dawn to complete her exercises, then to spar with Yrina, redeeming herself on the training ground, at least, before her aunt departed the city. She ran the garrison through endless drills, showing her soldiers no mercy, just as she showed herself no mercy as she sat at her desk for hours, combing through reports, eating while she worked, stopping only when the palace clocks struck the midnight hour.
For at that point, it would be too late.
Too late to venture out to the dam to see if he waited on the far side of the spillway. Too late to risk the temptation of his presence. Too late to question whether the path she walked was the one she wished her feet to remain upon.
Which was good, because in the darkest hours, it felt like her willpower crumbled. Felt like all the fantasies that daylight and duty had kept at bay gathered so as to overwhelm her the moment she was alone in her rooms. They drove her to pull his coat from where it was hidden deep in her wardrobe, the scent of him still clinging to the butter-soft leather. Compelled her to burn her lamp for hours past when she should be asleep, reading and rereading the book of stars and stories, the memory of his voice echoing through her head.
And now it was the fourth night since she’d slept in his arms on a Nerastis rooftop, the clock showing that it was nearly the midnight hour, and she knew if she went back to her rooms, it would be more of the same. “Enough, Zar,” she hissed at herself. “You are acting like a lovesick girl, not a soldier. And certainly not like a general or heir to the throne.”
She needed to put an end to this, once and for all.
Rising to her feet, Zarrah stormed through the corridors, wrenching open the doors to her quarters. In three strides, she was across the room with her wardrobe open, coat and book in hand.
“Burn them.” She stared at the objects in her hand. “Be done with this. Move on.”
But the thought turned her hands to ice and hollowed out her core. “Why?” she demanded softly. “They are just things. And not even particularly valuable things.”
Which was true, but the thoughts and emotions they inspired were valuable. Too valuable for her to cast aside or destroy.
Give them back, then.
Zarrah chewed on the insides of her cheeks. There was little chance he’d be at the dam, for not only had nights passed since they’d planned to meet, but it would also be past midnight when she arrived. She could leave the coat and the book weighted down with a few rocks, and he’d either eventually come to find them or … not. Either way, there was a finality to leaving them.
Decision made, Zarrah turned her thoughts to how she might see it done. There was no chance the Empress hadn’t left orders that she—and her windows and doors—be watched, which meant she was going to need help getting out.
Tucking book and coat under her arm, Zarrah left her rooms, making her way down the hall to Yrina’s much more modest quarters, where she knocked at the door. Cursing and swearing emanated through the wood, but then the door opened to reveal her sleep-rumpled friend. At the sight of her, Yrina straightened, eyes sharpening. “What’s wrong. Has something happened?”
“No, nothing.” Easing into the room, Zarrah went to the window and looked out. “I need a favor.”
“Can I do whatever it is in the morning?” Yrina’s eyes went to the leather coat rolled under her arm. “Ah.”
“I need to return these things. And to end … it.”
“It?” Yrina lifted her eyebrows. “You mean your friendship with the man that smells like leather and spice and reads books about stars?”
Zarrah’s cheeks burned hot. “Correct.”
Silence stretched between them, then Yrina said, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I know it’s risky with my aunt’s spies watching my every move, but I need to do it. So I need you to cover for me.”
“I meant,” Yrina said slowly, “are you sure you want to end it?”
“Of course I am.” The words tore from her lips before Zarrah had a chance to think about whether they were true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She wasn’t sure if the question was for Yrina or herself.
She’d dedicated her life to achieving victory in the Endless War. To avenging her mother’s murder at any cost. To carrying on her aunt’s legacy by making Valcotta strong. Seeing the Maridrinian ran counter to all of that.
Didn’t it?
“I don’t know …” Yrina said. “Maybe because these past weeks are the first time I’ve seen you this happy.”
Happy. It was as though a missing piece fell into place, finally providing an explanation for what it was she was giving up. Not a coat or a book, but a feeling that had been absent in her life. Zarrah wanted to scream with frustration, because this wasn’t what should make her feel happy. It should be achieving goals and winning victories, not staring up at a starry sky and dreaming of a world with no more war, no more bloodshed. “You’re reading more into this than you should.”
“I don’t think I am.” Dark-brown eyes fixed Zarrah with a steady gaze. “I think you’re ending it because the Empress is making you, not because you wish it.”
“She didn’t ask me to end anything.” What she’d asked was for Zarrah to not lose sight of the thing most important to her: avenging her mother’s death. Because her aunt knew that if she didn’t achieve that goal, it would weigh upon her soul.
Yrina cast her eyes skyward. “Perhaps not in so many words, but there isn’t a person in the palace who doesn’t know how her temper flared over you deigning to give yourself one night of liberty after our victory. She controls every aspect of your being, Zar, and has since your mother died.”
Frustration boiled in her stomach that her friend was so badly missing the mark. Why didn’t Yrina understand that the Empress teaching Zarrah to control herself wasn’t the same as controlling her? “She’s trying to ensure I have the skills necessary to rule Valcotta!”
“No, she’s trying to ensure that even after she’s in the grave, she’ll still rule, for she will have created an heir exactly like her!”
Zarrah’s temper burned hot, because Yrina, of all people, knew that she had no tolerance for harsh words against the Empress. Her aunt was her savior, the one who’d given her life and purpose after everything had been stolen from her. Who’d named Zarrah heir instead of her own son. Visions of her aunt weeping when she’d believed that Zarrah was losing her path filled her mind’s eye, carrying with them guilt and grief from knowing she hadn’t just disappointed her Empress, but herself. “You’re out of line.”
“Am I?” Yrina paced back and forth across the room. “I’ve watched how she’s groomed you, Zar. How she’s made certain that you have nothing in your life beyond the goals and priorities that she’s set for you, so that she can threaten you with taking them away and leaving you with nothing. How she makes you feel as though you have no one but her, that no one cares for you like she does. And I hate that awful look of adoration that climbs on your face whenever she walks into the room, because it’s clear to me and everyone else that she’s manipulating you!”
“My aunt loves me!” Zarrah snarled.
Yrina snorted. “Love, you say? She’s got an interesting way of showing it, given that the moment she got wind that there might be someone else in your life, she arrived to put an end to it.”
“To focus me!”
“To control you! That bitch is incapable of love.”
Fury raged through Zarrah’s veins. “Mind your tongue, Yrina, or find yourself deprived of it.”
Yrina didn’t so much as blink. “Those are her words. Her threats. Always spoken when anyone dares to offer an opinion contrary to her own.”
That wasn’t true. Her aunt had advisors whose counsel she heeded, and she always allowed Zarrah to speak her mind.
But does she ever listen?
“I don’t know who this man is, Zarrah,” Yrina said softly. “And I don’t know if it’s something he’s done or said or if he’s just that good a lover, but he’s changed you.” She hesitated. “No, not changed. He’s just caused you to remember who you really are. So don’t think it a coincidence the Empress showed up when she did.”
Was that true? Zarrah immediately rejected the thought as lunacy. The Empress was not so controlling as to toss aside travel plans solely to police her niece’s idle hours; she’d merely taken the opportunity to refocus her while she was here on other matters.
Except … what had those other matters been?
What had been the reason her aunt had returned to Nerastis?
It occurred to Zarrah for the first time that none had been given, and she’d been so caught up in regaining her aunt’s favor that she’d not noticed the visit was rather purposeless. “Thank you for your insight.” Her voice was colder than she’d intended, but it was better than betraying her unease. “Now will you cover for me, or do I need to take my chances alone?”
“Of course I will.” Yrina’s shoulders slumped, and she ran one hand through her curly hair. “Go. End it, if that’s what you want.”
Except it wasn’t so simple as that, which Yrina would have understood if she’d known the truth of who this man was.
You don’t even know who he is, the voice in her head whispered. You don’t even know his name. “I won’t be long.”
Yrina caught her wrist. “I love you, Zar. I only want you to be happy; please remember that.”
“I love you, too.” And though there was more she should have said, some acknowledgement that there was perhaps some truth to her friend’s words, Zarrah said nothing, only slipped out the window into the night.
YOU SHOULD GO.
A refrain that had repeated in his head for what had to be over an hour, yet Keris remained sitting on the damp rock of the dam, his eyes fixed on the shadows of the opposite side, now out of reach. And it wasn’t only Valcotta who was out of reach, but the dream she’d ignited in him that he could be something more than what he was. Someone better. Leaving felt like he’d be giving up not only on her, but on himself.
She’s not coming. And you are what you are.
Keris rose to his feet, turning from the spillway. But as he did, the shadows stirred. Freezing in place, he held his breath, waiting. And she appeared.
“I brought your things,” she shouted over the roar of the water. “I should’ve brought them sooner. I’m sorry.”
He eyed her for a moment, then called back, “You’re not here because of a coat and book, Valcotta.”
Looking anywhere but at him, she was silent. Then she lifted her beautiful face, shadowed eyes latching on his. “Seeing you, speaking to you … it’s forbidden. You are Maridrinian, which means you are supposed to be my enemy.”
Something had happened. Something had changed. “Supposed to be.” He tilted his head. “Except I’m not.”
