The Inadequate Heir, page 48
It was not her place to advise. Not even her place to voice an opinion. So Zarrah only covered his hand with hers and said, “No one can predict the future, Your Grace. Fate favors the strong. God rewards the good. And the stars never abandon those who dream of more.”
Aren was quiet for a long moment, then he said, “Are you certain you wish to do this, Zarrah? It’s not too late for you to stand down.”
A question he’d asked many times since Zarrah had gone to him and Lara after their meeting with the Empress. Since she’d proposed using the resources her aunt had provided her not to attack Vencia while Silas’s back was turned, but to help Aren liberate Ithicana. And her answer was the same now as it was then. “Can you take back your kingdom without me?” She stared into his eyes. “I don’t have a death wish, Aren. If you think Ithicana can drive Silas out without my ships and soldiers, tell me now, and I will bow out.”
Aren’s eyes went to Jor’s sketch, and she knew he was considering what hadn’t been drawn. The Maridrinian naval vessels circling the island, which he hadn’t the means to combat. The sheer number of soldiers that Silas had protecting the asset. “It wouldn’t be a quick battle. It would take time.”
“Time is the enemy,” she said. “Time means an opportunity for Silas to empty his garrisons in Vencia and Nerastis in order to fight you. And the moment he does that, the Empress attacks. Vencia will be sacked and burned. Nerastis will be retaken and every Maridrinian living there put to sword before he realizes his error.”
“You could get word to Keris,” Aren said, rising to pace the room. “If Silas knows the Empress’s intent, he’s not going to leave his capital undefended. The threat of her attacking might be enough for him to withdraw from Ithicana without a fight.”
Zarrah snorted. “Don’t tell me you honestly believe that? Silas has dedicated more than sixteen years, countless of his children, and bankrupted his kingdom in pursuit of Ithicana’s bridge. And now he has it. He won’t give it up without a fight; you know this. You know him.”
“He’s not going to let Vencia burn to keep it.”
“Are you so sure? He’s allowed Maridrina to starve and be ravaged by plague for the sake of this bridge—do you really think he wouldn’t allow a city to burn?” Zarrah stared him down, willing Aren to remember the man who’d kept him prisoner for months. Yet at the same time, part of her prayed that he would see a way through this that she hadn’t.
He exhaled, shoulders slumping. “You’re right. Shit. Shit.”
The fear she was fighting so hard to contain started to climb up her guts, and Zarrah clenched her teeth, forcing it down. Not allowing it any control. “If I do this, Aren, it’s over before Silas has a chance to empty his garrisons. My aunt’s plans to invade will be ruined, and Ithicana will be liberated.”
“And you’ll be executed for treason.”
She would be. The Empress had proven her willingness to cast Zarrah aside for the sake of her pride, and there would be no greater blow to her pride than Zarrah willfully thwarting her plans to destroy Maridrina. But she couldn’t allow her aunt’s pride to force Valcotta into dishonor. Couldn’t stand by and watch Ithicana fall beneath Silas’s heel. Couldn’t stand by and watch her aunt raze Vencia to the ground. Couldn’t stand by and watch the Endless War orphan another generation of children.
Her honor would not allow her to stand by any longer. Not when she had the power to take action.
Zarrah closed her eyes, seeing Keris’s face even as she felt her dreams of them creating peace together slip away. “Some things are worth dying for.”
NOT ALL OF his resistance to going on patrols had been moral high ground—a good portion of it could be attributed to the task being godawful tedious and even more uncomfortable.
Keris scowled as mud soaked through the knees of his trousers when he knelt, his eyes, and those of all the men around him, on the beach below. One of their vessels on the water had signaled that a Valcottan ship had been spotted heading inland, and Keris was using Zarrah’s tactic of meeting them head-on. A good, clean battle that would show the Valcottans that Maridrina’s hold on the border was as strong as ever.
Unfortunately, it meant he was going to have to fight.
You can do this, he silently told himself, trying to ignore the beads of sweat running down his back. It isn’t as though you’re entirely incompetent with a weapon.
A fact of little comfort, given the only real battle he’d ever been in was the taking of the bridge, and he’d been next to useless. It made him wonder if things would’ve gone differently for Raina and the rest of the Ithicanians if he’d been more skilled. Whether he’d have had the power to turn the tide.
Probably not.
From the water, Keris faintly made out the sound of a longboat being lowered. Of oars being placed into locks. Then there was only the soft roar of the gentle surf rolling against the shore.
“Only one longboat,” Philo muttered from his left. “Might be scouts checking that it’s safe to land before the rest come to shore. We should maintain cover and wait for them to give the signal, then attack when more hit the beach but their forces are still split. They’ll take heavier losses.”
Keris’s jaw tightened, because a better option would be to scare off the scouts and reduce the body count to nil. These were Zarrah’s people, and even if she was far away in Pyrinat, he still didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths. “They might just be smugglers. Let’s see what they’re up to.”
Ignoring Philo’s protests, Keris moved closer to the beach, several of the men following at his heels. They reached the edge of the tree line as the longboat hit the beach, four people getting out. It was too dark to see anything more than their shadowy outlines, their voices muffled as they exchanged a few words; then one headed in his direction.
Keris motioned to his men to keep down, then went still himself. The Valcottan who approached made not a whisper of noise until she paused, almost within arm’s reach of Keris. She rested her shoulders against a tree before bending double.
“Just do it, you coward,” she whispered. “Just get it over with and go—goodbyes will only make things worse.”
Her accent wasn’t Valcottan; it was Maridrinian. And there was something else … something familiar that he couldn’t place …
Out of the corner of his eye, Keris saw one of the woman’s companions climbing back into the longboat, another pushing it out onto the surf before returning to join the fourth.
But it was hard to focus on them with the woman standing so close he could hear her breathing, so ragged he thought she might be on the verge of tears.
She abruptly whirled and headed back down to the beach, where the trio conversed briefly before one of them headed north along the waterline.
Something brushed against his arm, and Keris jerked, turning to find Philo at his elbow. “Not raiders,” the man whispered softly. “Spies. We need to capture them to see what we might learn of Valcotta’s intentions.”
Something felt off, not the least of it that the woman had been Maridrinian. Yet the vessel on the water was without a doubt a Valcottan ship. Keris needed to get closer, needed to hear what the remaining two were saying.
Moving silently, he edged down to where the remaining two—the Maridrinian woman and an exceptionally tall man—were now arguing.
“Let Keris earn that crown he wants so badly—it’s about time he got his hands dirty.”
All the blood rushed from Keris’s skin, his hands turning to ice. Not at the mention of his name or his plans, but because he knew that fucking voice. That was Aren Kertell on the beach, which meant the woman had to be Lara. And they’d come off a Valcottan ship, which meant …
His skin prickled, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Philo and several of the others with bows in their hands, the weapons drawn.
Panic tore through his body, because that was his goddamned sister they were going to shoot in the back. That Lara might deserve it barely registered in his mind as he jerked his knife free of its sheath. Stabbing Philo wasn’t a viable option, so Keris angled it into the faint moonlight, trusting that Aren would see.
Trusting that he’d save her.
The Ithicanian king reacted in an instant. Diving, he knocked Lara over, the pair of them rolling behind a boulder as arrows flew.
“Attack,” Philo snarled, and more arrows arced through the air even as men slid down the slope to the beach. Keris held his ground, his mind racing as he thought of ways to get Aren and Lara out of this, the loud crunch of underbrush telling him that his men were pursuing the pair north.
He needed to improve their odds.
“Call for reinforcements!” Keris shouted. “Tell them we’ve got Valcottan raiders coming in from behind!”
Half the men stopped their pursuit, eyes on the water where the Valcottan ship was faintly visible, searching for approaching longboats. Better odds, but not good enough. So Keris sprinted up the slope to where his horse was tethered.
Leaping onto its back, he heeled it down the narrow track at a gallop, heading to the fishing village the next inlet over.
His horse exploded onto the beach at the same time as Lara and Aren stumbled from the brush. Leaning over his horse’s neck, he urged the animal for more speed, dragging on the horse’s reins when he reached them. “What the hell are you doing in Nerastis?” They gaped at him. “Never mind. You need to run. They’re coming, and I’m not in any position to help you.”
As soon as the words exited his lips, his soldiers exploded out of the brush and onto the beach, racing in their direction. And because to do anything else would render him complicit in their escape, Keris shouted, “Catch the Valcottans! They’re getting away!”
Lara shot him a glower before Aren dragged her toward the waterline, where another man pulled loose the moorings on a fishing boat.
But they were running out of time.
Keris’s soldiers were in hot pursuit, too great in number for them to fight. Yet his sister abandoned the boat, striding up the beach to meet her countrymen with blade in hand.
Lara fought as one born to it, relying on speed rather than brute strength, her jaw clenched in determination as she cut down man after man, leaving only corpses in her wake.
But there were too many of them.
They were going to kill his sister unless—
“Don’t kill her!” he shouted. “Take her prisoner!”
If his men heard the orders, Keris couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter, because Aren had abandoned the boat and was now fighting back to back with his wife, the two of them a match for Keris’s men.
Or would have been.
The sound of galloping hooves filled the air, and a second later, reinforcements burst onto the beach.
If he didn’t do something, they’d both be killed.
Coralyn’s voice filled his ears: She doesn’t seek forgiveness, but perhaps you might give her yours. His stubbornness didn’t want to bend, didn’t want to give that concession, but neither did he want to stand back and watch his sister slaughtered. Her death would accomplish nothing, whereas if she lived, maybe … maybe Lara might do some good.
Then motion on the water caught his eye. Longboats filled with armed Valcottans, and while the two forces were evenly matched, Keris seized upon the opportunity. “Retreat!” No one listened, so he stood in the saddle and bellowed, “Retreat!”
Philo’s eyes tracked the direction Keris pointed, and then he shouted, “Fall back!”
Attentions snapped from Lara and Aren to the water, where dozens of Valcottans spilled out of longboats.
The sight of who led them caused Keris’s heart to stutter, all the rest of the world falling away.
Zarrah sprinted up the beach, weapon in hand, the moonlight slipping out from behind the clouds to illuminate her face. “For Valcotta,” she screamed.
He should focus on his sister. On Aren. But Keris’s eyes were all for Zarrah as she and her soldiers pursued his men, killing those they overtook. Heading straight toward him.
“Your Highness, run!” Philo shouted, but Zarrah’s eyes had latched on his, and it would have taken an act of God to make him turn his back on her.
She skidded to a stop, holding up an arm. As her soldiers formed up around her, she looked over her shoulder. Keris blinked, seeing that Lara and Aren had the boat on the water, were kicking it out to sea, soon obscured by darkness.
“Fall back to the boats!” Zarrah shouted. As her soldiers moved to comply, her eyes locked on his. “Meet me tomorrow night,” she mouthed, then spun on her heel and joined her comrades racing back to their longboats, the battle over.
For now.
IT FELT LIKE Zarrah was walking through a dream as she made her way across Nerastis and then out of the city proper, the dim light of her lantern illuminating her path through the long grass. Overhead, there was only a slice of moon, and a million stars twinkled above like diamonds on velvet cloth. Though she’d only walked this path a handful of times to meet Keris, it felt etched on her soul, as if she’d walked it every day of her life. Her pathway to him, and this would be the last time she’d walk it.
The roar of the water rushing through the spillway reached her first, then the mist that smelled of life and earth and leafy things, her fingers trailing over the damp tips of the grass as she rose the slope, her eyes fixed on the faint glow of light waiting for her.
He was here.
Her silent steps turned to soft thuds as she stepped onto the dam, following the arc of rock out into the open until she reached the gap, her eyes never wavering from the familiar shadow on the far side of the spillway. The lantern was bright enough to reveal he wore a Maridrinian uniform bedecked with the braids and medals and markers of a high-ranking officer, a sword belted at his waist, along with a knife on the opposite side. His hair was pulled back, but strands of it had come loose, the wind catching and freeing them.
He held up a hand. “No closer, Zarrah. It’s not safe.”
Confusion flashed through her, and for a heartbeat, she thought he meant that he was the danger to her. Then she saw that the water had eroded enough of the spillway that a portion of the dam’s deck had collapsed, widening the gap an extra two feet.
Too far to jump.
A sharp, stabbing pain struck her heart, because she’d thought that she’d do this in his arms. Thought she’d say goodbye with the taste of him on her lips and the feel of his hands on her skin, but apparently fate, God, and the stars had given her enough for one night and would give her no more. Her eyes burned, and she blinked away the tears before they could fall.
Silence.
Zarrah knew she should speak. That she should start her explanation now, because time was short. But her throat was tight, strangling every word that tried to rise to her tongue. To her lips.
“Lara and Aren made it through the Red Desert.” His voice carried over the roar of the water, risky names to be shouting on the outskirts of Nerastis. “Bastard has nine lives.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “I think it’s your sister that’s the hard one to kill.”
“Recent events suggest otherwise.” There was a hint of anger in his voice. “She nearly took an arrow in the back last night, she was so distracted coming up with suitable words for goodbye.”
Zarrah flinched, though she wasn’t certain why.
“What is going on, Zarrah? Why were they on your ship? Why did you dump them on a beach, only to sail in to save their asses?”
She swallowed hard, her hands like ice. “They came to Pyrinat to ask the Empress to aid Ithicana in driving Maridrina out and retaking the bridge.”
“And?”
“She declined. Gave me orders to drop them north of Nerastis so that they might make their own way back to Ithicana to rally Aren’s people.”
“Thank fucking God.” His shoulders slumped, and though the noise of the falls drowned it out, Zarrah felt his exhale of relief. It made her stomach twist into knots. As if sensing something in her silence, Keris lifted his head and met her stare. “Tell me that’s the end of it, Zarrah.”
“I can’t.” She dragged in a steadying breath. “Because it’s not. Not for me.”
“What have you done?” He took a step toward the edge of the spillway, as though he might jump, then gave a sharp shake of his head and held his ground. “Zarrah?”
“I’m going to take ships north to help Aren liberate Ithicana. I’m going to help him end this war. And then I’m going to return to Pyrinat and accept the consequences of treason.”
“No, you are not! You will do no such thing! You—”
“Did you know it’s been a year?” Her heart beat against the inside of her ribs like a fist trying to hammer its way out. “A year since I stood on the deck of a ship and watched your father’s fleet sail past me to Ithicana. A year since I did nothing and thousands suffered for my inaction. It feels like I’ve come full circle and am once again standing on that deck, watching disaster approach. But this time, I won’t do nothing.”
“Zarrah, no. Don’t.” His voice was drenched in panic, and again he stepped to the edge of the spillway. “Ithicana is Aren’s problem, not yours. It was his blind love for my sister that invited invasion. And Lara’s shame that drove her to keep secrets when the full truth would have stopped my father in his tracks. What happened in Ithicana is their fault, not yours. Let them pay the price.”
Her chin trembled, and Zarrah clenched her teeth, trying to contain her emotions because she needed to get this out. Needed to make him understand. “It’s not just Ithicana that disaster approaches, Keris. It’s Maridrina.” She sucked in a breath. “The Empress is coming for you. She knows that your father needs to end this war before Amarid withdraws its support. She knows he intends to pull every last one of his soldiers from across the kingdom to strike Ithicana a fatal blow. And when he does, when Maridrina sits entirely unprotected, she intends to strike her own fatal blow.”
“Let her come,” he shouted. “I have control in Nerastis, not my father. I’m not sending him the soldiers or ships, so if Bermin thinks to waltz across the border and take this city, he’s in for a shock. I have it in hand, Zarrah!”
