The Inadequate Heir, page 39
But Coralyn extracted a glass jar from the folds of her dress and threw it to the ground. Thick, choking smoke filled the room, and a hand caught Zarrah’s arm, Aren’s voice shouting, “Get behind the table and cover your ears!”
Throwing herself over the table, Zarrah landed with a thump between Lara and one of the other women, all of them coughing from the smoke. But it wasn’t to Keris’s sister that her attention went but to Coralyn, who stood upright and in defiance between them and Silas.
Without thinking, Zarrah lunged, tackling the old woman to the ground. She’d barely managed to clamp her hands over her ears when a deafening boom split the air.
Glass and bits of stone rained down on her, so hot they burned the skin they touched, but Zarrah only gritted her teeth as she pushed herself upright.
“Go!” Coralyn wiped blood from her face. “Run, you useless bitch!”
“Silas will kill you if you stay.” She could barely get the words out between coughs. Wasn’t entirely certain why she was bothering, only knew that Coralyn’s death would shatter Keris to the core.
“Someone has to take the blame, and I won’t let it be him.” The old harem wife shoved at her. “Tell Keris I love him.”
Before Zarrah could say another word, Coralyn strode into the haze. Slender fingers gripped Zarrah’s wrist, dragging her toward the broken window. Through the smoke, Zarrah made out blond hair, and then Lara’s voice demanded, “Who is she?” before she shoved Zarrah toward Aren.
“Later.” The King of Ithicana’s voice was clipped. “Climb!”
Ripping the skirt of her dress so that her legs were free, Zarrah jumped up onto the window frame, climbing the side of the harem building, a knife clenched between her teeth. One of the other women pulled her over the balcony railing and pushed her inside with a whispered warning of, “Stay silent.”
The alarm bells rang loud enough to make her head ache, but it served well to cover their passage as they strode through the corridors. “How much did he tell you?” Aren asked her.
“Only to follow your lead.” At least, to a point. Keris’s voice rippled through her memory: Some things are too valuable for me to allow others to pack. Far better for me to do it myself. However Aren planned to get out of the palace, she wouldn’t be going with him—Keris had a different plan.
As if hearing her thoughts, Aren asked, “Do you trust him?”
With my heart. “With my life.”
They ran down the hall, carpets muffling their footfalls as they exited into one of the covered walkways. The interior was dark, but the smoke of the recently extinguished lamps still hung on the air. Outside, thick mist rose from the fountains, the effect eerie and strange.
Entering the tower, the group raced up the stairs, but Zarrah slowed as they reached the door to Keris’s chambers. He knew the plan. Knew they’d be coming this way, so it would make sense that he was here.
Zarrah lifted a hand to reach for the handle, but before she could grasp it, the door opened and Keris stepped out.
And nearly lost his head to Lara’s blade. Zarrah lunged, but Aren was faster, catching his wife’s wrist, hauling her back.
“Who is he?” Lara demanded.
Keris inclined his head. “It’s been a long time, little sisters. I wish we could’ve reunited under better circumstances.”
Lara’s eyes widened, the queen clearly unaware that her brother had been involved in the scheme. “Keris?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and Zarrah wondered if Lara noticed. If she cared.
“You’re helping us?” Lara asked.
“I’m helping myself,” Keris answered. “But tonight, our interests are aligned.”
His gaze moved past his sister to Zarrah, and she instinctively stepped toward him, closing her eyes as his hand curved around her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Are you all right?”
Her skin stung from a dozen little burns inflicted by the explosion, and her eye was nearly swollen shut from Silas’s punch, but Zarrah barely felt the pain through the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “It’s nothing.”
He gave a slight nod, then said to Aren, “This is where you part ways with the general.”
“I don’t think so,” Aren snapped. “Zarrah’s coming with us. I intend to make sure she delivers on her end of the deal.”
Make her? Zarrah ground her teeth at the insult, but Keris had already stepped between them. “There’s too much chance of you being caught or killed. And her life is more important than yours. While everyone is pursuing you, I’ll get her out.”
There was merit to them splitting up, for it meant more chance of one of them getting out alive. Which meant more of a chance that someone would escape to help the Ithicanians starving in Eranahl.
Which Aren had to know, yet he showed no signs of conceding.
“I’m just your goddamned decoy?” he snarled.
Keris tensed, radiating irritation, though nothing showed on his face as he said, “Precisely. But given my plan is more likely to achieve that which you desire, perhaps you’ll refrain from whining. Time is short.” Keris pushed Zarrah toward the open door, but before she could move, Aren caught her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Zarrah’s temper flared, then softened as she saw the desperation in the Ithicanian king’s eyes. His need to know for certain that this wouldn’t be for nothing.
“On my word, if I get out alive, I’ll have supplies delivered to drop points in Ithicana where your people can reach them.” Zarrah touched her hand to her heart. “Good luck, Your Grace.”
And then, knowing this might be the last time she ever saw Aren Kertell alive, Zarrah stepped into the room.
AREN TOOK A step as though he intended to follow Valcotta into the room and drag her back out again, and Keris’s temper flared. He blocked the man’s path. “Time for you to carry on. But before you go, I need you to make it look like I at least tried to stop you.”
Not his favorite part of the plan, but if he was to get Valcotta out of the palace safely, it was necessary that his innocence in what happened tonight be unquestioned.
Aren opened his mouth as though to argue, then huffed out a breath. “Gladly.” Then he swung.
Instinct demanded that he dodge, but instead, Keris held his ground, taking the blow.
Pain lanced through his face, and Keris stumbled backward, catching himself on the doorframe. He touched his swelling cheek, a black eye inevitable. “You have ten minutes until I start down to alert the guards. Make them count.”
He didn’t watch them continue up the stairs, instead stepping inside and shutting the door, which he bolted. He turned to ensure Valcotta was truly all right, but before he could say a word, her arms were around his neck, her mouth on his.
Zarrah claimed his lips as though she intended to claim his very soul, though in truth, she possessed it already. Even if she were the devil herself, he was too bespelled by her, too lost in the feel of her, too captivated by the sound of her ragged breathing to care. She pulled on his lower lip with her teeth, driving his lips apart. Logically, Keris knew this wasn’t the time, but he yielded to her anyway. The kiss deepened, her tongue slipping into his mouth, sliding over his. He groaned, wanting to pull the clothes from her body, wanting to taste her, to lose himself in the scent of her, because her presence had turned his blood scalding with the need to have her. To push her against the wall and claim her as thoroughly as she had claimed him.
The clock on the wall chimed, and his eyes flicked to it. Everything was on schedule. Everything was going to plan. They had a few moments before he needed to head downstairs, and there was a great deal he could do in a few moments.
Then Valcotta pulled her mouth from his and said, “Your father is still alive.”
Keris’s skin turned to ice even as his stomach dropped. “What?”
“At least, I believe he is. There is a chance that he was killed in the blast, but I don’t think we’ll get that lucky.”
“Lara,” he seethed, furious at himself for having trusted she’d deliver. Furious that he’d allowed himself to rely on a woman notorious for betrayal. “That was the deal. Our help in exchange for her putting a knife in my father’s heart.”
Valcotta blew a breath out between her teeth. “The deal according to whom?”
He blinked. “Coralyn.”
“She lied—Lara made no such promise.” Valcotta took a step toward him, then hesitated as though she wasn’t certain how he’d react. “She likely deceived you because she knew the only way you’d agree to this scheme was if you believed your father wouldn’t survive it.”
His spine stiffened, and he gave a sharp shake of his head, eyes snapping to the clock. “No, she’s the one who would never agree to it—the risk to the harem would be too great.”
“Which is why she set me up to do it.” Valcotta’s throat moved as she swallowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “It wasn’t the first time. It was Coralyn who arranged for me to try to kill him that night in the tower, although I didn’t know it until after the fact. She wanted me to try again, but I refused to do it unless she found a way for me to escape, which she did. Or you did. I …” She trailed off. “I had a chance to kill him, but I didn’t do it. If he’d died by my hand, he’d become a martyr in the Endless War.”
A dull roar filled Keris’s ears, and it wasn’t just that his plans had crumbled to dust, but that his aunt had been attempting to use Valcotta beneath his nose. He should’ve anticipated her meddling. Should’ve known she was up to something, but never in his wildest dreams had he believed she’d ally with a Valcottan just for the sake of killing his father. Still couldn’t believe it. “Where is Coralyn? What happened?”
“She took credit for the plan. Then refused to leave with us.” Valcotta’s jaw quivered, her eyes fixed on his chest. “She told me to tell you that she loves you.”
If his father was alive, and Coralyn had taken the blame for Aren’s escape, then … “I have to help her.”
Valcotta caught hold of his arm, dragging him back. “You can’t help her, Keris. If you try, your father will only become convinced of your involvement and will kill you, too. Which will mean her sacrifice was in vain.”
He pulled out of her grip, pressing his fingers to his temples, trying to think. But it was impossible when he considered what might be happening to his aunt at this very moment. “I should have sent you with Aren. I—You need to go. If you hurry, you’ll catch them at the top.” And at least Valcotta would have a chance of getting free.
“I’m not going with Aren.” Her hands closed over his wrists, pulling them to his sides. “Because if I go, you’ll do something stupid and brave and get yourself killed. And I refuse to let you die, Keris Veliant.”
“Then you’re condemning yourself, because my plan no longer exists.” He met her gaze, silently pleading with her to go. “You need to leave with Aren. He’ll get you out or die trying, that much I know.”
“Then why didn’t you send me with him in the first place?” She locked her fingers with his, squeezing hard. “Because you didn’t like their plan? Or you had a better one?”
Because he didn’t trust anyone other than himself to keep her safe. “Both.”
“What was it?”
He felt like he couldn’t breathe, visions of what his father might be doing to his aunt filling his head. Why had she lied about Lara’s intentions? Why had she tried to get Valcotta to do the deed?
“You might never know the truth behind Coralyn’s motivations,” she said, seeming to sense his thoughts. “And we don’t have time to deliberate. You’ve three minutes to explain the rest of your plan to me, and then you need to go down those stairs and cover our tracks. Do not destroy the chance Coralyn’s gifted you.”
Keris scrubbed at his face, wincing as he pressed against his swollen cheek. Focus, he shouted at himself. You have the rest of your life to hate yourself for tonight’s mistakes. “Everyone will be chasing after Aren. The chances of him getting out of the city are slim, but he’ll die before he’s captured again. I was going to hide you, then sneak you out when—” When he was king, when he had control. He swallowed. “When it was safe to do so.”
“How?” she asked, and Keris turned to the chest that traveled everywhere with him. He unlocked the lid, lifting out stacks of books until the bottom was revealed.
The false bottom.
Zarrah’s eyes moved to the clock. “One minute.”
They were out of time, so he spoke quickly. “I came up with the idea weeks ago but dismissed it. Your absence would be discovered immediately, and I’d be the obvious culprit. But everyone thinks that you’ve escaped with Aren, so no one will have reason to suspect me.” He pressed a tiny button on the carved exterior, which popped up the false bottom. “You’ll need to hide in here.”
Zarrah stared at the chest, her throat moving as she swallowed. She hated this plan; that much was obvious. She wanted to fight her way free, not hide in a box, and he almost wished such a thing were possible. “Valcotta—”
“Lock me inside in case someone searches your room. And then you need to go.”
She lay on her side on the blanket he’d padded the bottom with, her knees curled up, feet bare. His heart was racing, fear and nerves prickling his skin, because he didn’t want to close the lid on her. It was too much like closing a coffin. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She caught hold of his hand, pulling him down and kissing him hard enough to bruise both their lips. “We’re going to get through this. All you need to do is ensure that no one suspects you, especially your father.”
Praying she was right, Keris lowered the panel over top of her, the latch clicking into place. Then he swiftly loaded the books inside and closed the lid.
It was time.
Taking a deep breath, he strode to the door and threw it open, leaving it that way as he hurried down the stairs, shouting, “Guards! Guards! They’re in the tower!”
He raced down the curved stairs. When he’d nearly reached the second floor, he rounded the corner and almost collided with the men running toward the sound of shouts.
Their eyes widened at the sight of his eye, which was nearly swollen shut thanks to Aren and his fist, and Keris snarled, “They’ve gone up to the top of the tower, you fucking idiots! Go!”
The men barreled past him, and Keris continued down to the ground level. “Let me out,” he ordered the men guarding the door.
“It’s not safe, Your Highness. The Ithicanian—”
“Is at the top of the tower, and he has my Valcottan prisoner with him! Where is my father? Where is Serin? Who is in command of this mess?”
Instead of answering, the soldier unlatched the door and flung it open, calling, “They’re in the tower!”
Pushing past, Keris ignored the dozen men who ran by him and strode into the gardens before looking up.
The air was thick with the misty fog emanating from the dozen canisters the harem had placed in the fountains, but the rising wind was whisking the cover away. And as he watched, Keris picked out the flash of a shadow flying down from the top of the tower and over the heads of the guards on the inner wall.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Shouts of alarm filled the air but were drowned out a few seconds later by a large boom, a flash of light from the exterior gate illuminating the night.
All around him was chaos and confusion as the soldiers split their ranks, half mistakenly running into the tower and the other half, understanding that their quarry was outside the sanctum, heading to the gates to reinforce.
Get to the horses, he silently willed his sisters, running toward the sanctum’s gate, though he could do nothing to help them at this point. Get into the city.
Because if they got caught inside the walls, his father’s men would know Valcotta was still in here.
The elaborate gates to the sanctum were open, and Keris raced through, carnage greeting him. All around the large courtyard, soldiers screamed and clutched their blown-out eardrums, some—those closest to the gate—lying still, likely never to move again.
A group of his father’s men raced out of the stable, throwing themselves onto their horses and galloping off in pursuit of the decoys outside the wall.
Keris held his breath. Waiting. Waiting.
Then another group on horseback emerged. He clenched his fists, certain the soldiers milling around would see what he saw: figures too small and lithe to be men, and one overlarge form that bounced wildly in the saddle, reins flopping loose in his hands.
Bastard doesn’t know how to ride. Keris ground his teeth, praying that this small, yet critical detail wouldn’t entirely ruin their escape. Then they were gone. What Lara intended to do next, he didn’t know. And to be frank, as long as they didn’t get caught and betray Valcotta, he didn’t fucking care.
“What do you mean, they’ve escaped?”
Keris turned at the sound of his father’s voice, watching him storm out of the sanctum gates, soot staining his face and wine splattering his clothes. But still very much in command.
And very much fucking alive.
Girding himself, Keris approached, but his father was too busy shouting orders to acknowledge him.
“They went up the tower,” he interrupted. “The Ithicanian and a group of women, including Zarrah Anaphora.”
His father’s lip curled, eyes taking in Keris’s swollen face. “And I see you did little to stop them.”
Keris crossed his arms. “I wasn’t expecting to come face-to-face with a group of armed women outside my goddamned bedroom door. How did this happen?”
“Coralyn.”
It took all of Keris’s self-control not to flinch. “What are you talking about?”
“The old bitch arranged it as retribution. Stabbed me in the back.”
“Where is she?”
If his father heard the question, he didn’t bother responding, only shouldered Keris out of the way to take reports from his men.
There was part of him that wanted to press his father for more information about Coralyn. But he’d accomplished what he needed to—bolstering the lie that Zarrah was with Aren and Lara. Which meant that, for now, outside the walls would be the only place they were looking for her, and he could turn toward finding answers about his aunt’s fate.
