The Inadequate Heir, page 50
Zarrah knew exactly how Silas had come to know the Empress’s intent: Keris. How he’d managed to convince Silas not to risk the attack for the sake of his plans in Ithicana, she didn’t know. But regardless, the Empress’s plans to sack Vencia were now in shambles, the chance of success far too low to risk so many Valcottan soldiers.
Zarrah knew exactly what Keris wanted her to do in response: to sail back to Nerastis with no fear of the Empress’s wrath for not completing her mission to burn Vencia.
“What are your orders, General?” the captain asked. “Do you wish to raid down the coast instead?”
“No.” Zarrah straightened. “Head back to open water to rejoin our other ships. Once we’re clear from view, I want every soldier on deck.”
They sailed northwest, the swells beneath the ship growing as they moved deeper into the Tempest Seas, but once the lookout had called all clear, soldiers flowed onto the deck, their expressions inquisitive.
This was the moment. The moment she needed to take this final step in betraying her aunt’s commands. While Zarrah had no intention of turning back, she still had a choice to make.
The soldiers watched her silently, waiting, and Zarrah bit the insides of her cheeks as she debated what to do. The easiest and surest path would be to lie to them. To say that the Empress had given her alternative plans to pursue if the attack on Vencia failed. To do so would mean all these soldiers would follow her unquestioningly to Southwatch, entirely ignorant of their treason.
Would mean using them.
Except she knew what it was like to be used. Knew the sour, sick feeling that would fill their guts when they discovered that she, their trusted general, had deceived them. Knew that for all her motivations were pure, taking that step would make her little better than her aunt, who weighed strategy over honor.
Zarrah had sworn to honor herself, which left her with only one choice: the truth.
To be honest in her motivations and pray that their consciences drove them to follow her. She’d chosen these men and women specifically, every last one of them having been with her when the Maridrinian fleet had sailed past them to Ithicana. Every last one of them bearing the guilt of inaction. Zarrah prayed it weighed upon them as much as it did her, because if she was wrong, Ithicana would be the one to suffer.
“A year ago,” she shouted, “we watched as Silas Veliant’s fleet sailed past ours on its way to Ithicana. On its way to stab an ally in the back for the sake of one man’s quest for more power and wealth. It was the honorless move of a king more rat than man. A creature who’d win wars with guile and deception rather than face his opponent with bravery and skill!”
Her soldiers murmured in agreement, nodding their heads, several shouting, “The Maridrinians are cowards! They have no honor!”
“Perhaps that is so!” she shouted. “But what of us? What of our honor?”
Silence.
“We stood by and watched as they sailed past! We offered no resistance, no warning, despite knowing better than any nation on earth the horror Ithicana faced!” Zarrah walked forward, the ranks parting for her. “How many times have we witnessed the massacre of a raid? Seen homes destroyed, men and women slaughtered, children orphaned? How many times have we been only minutes too late, cursed to spend the nights awake wondering what might have been different if we’d only ridden faster? Yet when faced with the chance to stop an entire kingdom from seeing such a fate, we did not sail faster! We turned our backs!”
Circling round to the front again, she shouted, “We were the cowards that day!”
Her soldiers stared at their feet, and Zarrah could feel their shame. And she knew that, like her, they desired to atone.
“King Aren Kertell has returned to Ithicana,” she continued, trusting that the words she needed would find the way to her tongue. “He is rallying his people to fight the Maridrinians and drive them out. To liberate his kingdom and take back his people’s homes. But he can’t do it alone.” She paused, surveying them. “He needs allies. He needs us.”
Their faces lifted, anticipation rising in their eyes, but she knew the greatest hurdle was to come.
“Yet when Aren came to our Empress to ask for our help, she turned him away.”
Zarrah waited, allowing the information to sink in. “Rather than seeing this as an opportunity for Valcotta to wrong a right, she sees it as an opportunity to strike a blow against an enemy. As an opportunity to attack Maridrina while its back is turned, and enact upon it the same carnage as our cowardice brought to Ithicana.”
Silence.
No one on the ship deck spoke. No one stirred. No one seemed to even breathe.
“We could follow her wishes and sail down the coast, killing and burning as we go.” Her voice carried over them, filling the void. “Or we can sail to Ithicana and stand by its king and fight for liberty. For decency. For honor!”
Zarrah surveyed her soldiers, praying to the stars that she’d judged them rightly as she shouted, “I give you the choice: Will you fight and kill innocents to strike a blow at Silas Veliant? Or will you fight and kill to protect the innocents that Silas Veliant seeks to destroy?”
No one said a word, and a prickle of fear wormed its way up Zarrah’s spine. Because if she’d been wrong, Aren and Ithicana would pay the price …
The captain of the ship stepped forward and shouted, “I will stand with Ithicana!”
Then one of her soldiers lifted his fist into the air. “I will stand with Ithicana!”
A woman drew her sword. “I will stand with Ithicana! I will fight for them!”
And then it was a roar of voices, all shouting the same thing, all wanting the same thing.
So Zarrah stepped forward, lifting her own weapon in the air. “Let us to war!”
“NO SHIPS AT THE dock.” A bead of sweat ran down the side of the captain’s face, betraying his nerves. “Looks quiet.”
Southwatch did look quiet, only a handful of soldiers visible, but well Zarrah knew that appearances could be deceiving. The vessel she stood on looked like a Maridrinian merchantman, the sailors disguised, but below deck, two hundred armed Valcottan soldiers waited to attack.
They drifted closer, the Maridrinians standing on the pier appearing unconcerned as they waited to tie the ship off.
Sweat beaded on her spine as she discreetly gave the signal for her strongest swimmers to enter the water. They’d swim under the ship and up beneath the pier. There, they’d find the tunnels Jor had mapped, which would lead into the storehouses Aren had described. When Zarrah and her soldiers swarmed the pier, the swimmers would attack from behind to disable the shipbreakers, allowing her other two vessels to sail in and join the fight.
Her pulse throbbed in a steady beat, her staff held in one hand below the ship’s railing, a hood pulled forward to protect her from the light rain sufficient to disguise her skin color.
“Slowly,” she muttered to the captain. “Give the swimmers time to reach the tunnels.”
The ship bumped against the dock, and her crew moved to toss down ropes. But one of the Maridrinians shouted, “We’re not taking cargo. Southwatch is closed—no one allowed on the island. Turn back to Vencia.”
This is strange, she thought, searching for any signs that the Maridrinians had prepared for an attack, but there was nothing.
She kicked the captain in the ankle, knowing that if she spoke, it would raise alarm, as Maridrinians didn’t have female sailors. Clearing his throat, the captain said, “We’ve got grain purchased by His Majesty for his soldiers up from Nerastis.”
“Don’t care if you’ve got a hold full of solid gold. You’re not stepping foot on this island.”
Something was wrong.
Zarrah’s skin crawled as she listened to the captain argue with the man, the ship rising and falling on the growing surf, rain soaking her clothes.
There is a storm coming.
Thunder rolled in the east, and a gust of wind tore across the ship deck.
On the pier, the Maridrinian’s eyes widened in horror.
Zarrah’s eyes snapped left in time to see the captain dragging his hood back into place, but it was too late. They’d seen.
“Valcottans!” The Maridrinian drew his weapon. “We’re under attack!”
Instinct took over, and Zarrah lifted her weapon. “Attack!”
Her soldiers flung off their cloaks and drew their weapons, those below racing on deck. With her people behind her, Zarrah led the charge.
She leapt off the ship onto the pier. More Maridrinians raced to engage even as she met a man’s sword with her staff, knocking it from his hands. She twisted, slamming the butt into his head with lethal force before moving on to the next.
Blood splattered her face as she smashed his skull, but she only blinked it away, her eyes on her next opponent. His jaw was tense, eyes grim, as though he knew there was no chance of getting out of this alive. Which made no bloody sense because this island should be packed with soldiers.
Zarrah ducked under his sword blade, then swept his feet out from under him. He landed with a thud, and she turned on her heel, bringing her weapon down on his throat. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to take on another.
But there were none.
Perhaps two dozen Maridrinians lay dead or dying on the pier, her soldiers all looking warily toward the island, waiting for reinforcements to come.
“Where are they?” one of her men demanded, even as another said, “Maybe they went to reinforce locations being attacked by the Ithicanians?”
Except Zarrah knew that wasn’t it. Knew that this island was too damn critical to be left with only two dozen men to guard it. Something was off.
“An ambush?” someone suggested.
“Maybe.” Zarrah strode down the pier, her soldiers falling behind her. She knew the layout of the building from Aren’s explanations and Jor’s drawings, and she gave orders breaking her force into groups to search the island.
Her group moved cautiously toward one of the large warehouses that stored grain, her heart thumping. Not because she was afraid to find Maridrinians waiting in ambush.
But because she was afraid she wouldn’t.
Sweat mixed with the rain rolling down her back, and Zarrah reached for the door, easing it open, then stepped inside.
Her stomach plummeted. It was empty.
All across Southwatch, she heard shouts of the same. No soldiers. No ambushes. The island was empty.
What was going on?
“Send a message to Aren that Southwatch has been taken,” she ordered. “Tell him that the island was empty. He needs to be prepared, because the Maridrinians didn’t just disappear.”
And Silas hadn’t conceded. There wasn’t a goddamned chance he’d given up the bridge without a fight.
Zarrah took a spyglass from one of her men. “Take a third of our force and press into the bridge a few miles to see if you find anything. Show caution—there are more ways in and out than you can possibly imagine. I’m going to climb to the top to see if I can get a better vantage.”
“Let me arrange an escort.”
She shook her head. “I’ll go alone.”
Zarrah strode up the road leading to the mouth of the bridge, the yawning opening into the dark tunnel that snaked its way over the islands and karsts of Ithicana. A faint moaning echoed from it, a draft of wind that carried with it a peculiar smell. Like petrichor, but different, and Zarrah shivered as she bypassed it.
The island was made up of twin peaks of rock and dense vegetation, and she was soon breathing hard from heat and exertion as she climbed a narrow track leading to the top of one peak, keeping an eye out for Ithicana’s infamous snakes. The air was thick with humidity to the point she felt like she was drinking water, everything smelling of lush vegetation and rain, and in the distance, lightning danced across a black storm front that seemed closer each time she lifted her head.
Every muscle in her body was tense, denied the release battle always brought with it and looking for an outlet. She’d promised Aren and Ithicana her aid against Silas, and while she’d done exactly what they’d agreed upon, that promise didn’t feel fulfilled. Two dozen soldiers where there should have been two hundred, and Zarrah had no idea where they were. Had no idea how she could aid Aren, and the helplessness of it made her want to spill her guts on the path.
She’d come here to right a wrong. To atone. To honor herself.
But thus far, it felt like she’d failed on every count.
Anger quickened her steps, and soon Zarrah was running up the trail, rising higher and higher until she spotted a stone lookout at the pinnacle. Wary of Maridrinians, she tucked her spyglass in her belt in favor of her staff, cautiously approaching the opening to the small structure. It was made of the same stone as the bridge, the wet, earthy scent filling her nose as she climbed a short staircase and came out on top.
Her pulse hammered and she pivoted, forgoing the spyglass in her belt in favor of a larger one the Ithicanians had mounted in the tower. But all she saw was oceans and islands and mist.
No ships other than her own.
No soldiers other than her own.
Then a familiar voice said, “This isn’t your fight, Zarrah.”
IT HAD BEEN madness to remain at Southwatch, given he’d known what was coming. Yet as his father had sailed away in the dark of night with a fleet of ships loaded with Maridrinian soldiers, leaving the unwitting decoys behind to die, Keris had found himself unable to depart. Unable to get on the ship that would deliver him back to the safety of Vencia while dozens upon dozens of his people died as part of his strategy. His plan.
His war.
So instead he’d left a letter in his stateroom with orders that they return for him after the battle was over, knowing full well that all that they might find was a corpse, then sneaked off the ship. He’d spent the days since sleeping on the tops of the warehouses and buildings of the Southwatch market, stealing food, his eyes always on the sea. Watching. Waiting.
Because he’d known she would come.
So when the ship bearing a Maridrinian flag had drifted toward port, the sailors all wearing hoods pulled up against the rain, he’d seen what the soldiers on the pier had not. That this was no vessel full of their countrymen, but a ship full of their enemy.
But what he’d seen was her.
Even in a cloak and hood, he’d somehow known the figure standing next to the captain was Zarrah. Something about the way she’d stood, the way she’d moved, triggering his instincts. The same instincts that had demanded he stop this. That he race down onto the pier and put himself between Zarrah and his countrymen to plead for their lives.
Except that would have put her in the position of having to explain why she was willing to negotiate with a Veliant. With all he’d done to try to save her, Keris wasn’t about to damn her for the sake of his conscience.
So instead, he’d watched as the Valcottans had swarmed the pier. Watched as the woman he loved more than life slaughtered his countrymen with brutal efficiency. Watched as she realized the situation on Southwatch was not as expected, that something was wrong. Watched her realize that none of this was the behavior of Silas Veliant.
And saw the moment she realized whom she’d really gone to war with.
“THIS ISN’T YOUR fight, Zarrah.”
She jerked at the sound of his voice, her eyes snapping down from the lookout tower to fix on his. “Where are they attacking?”
Not, Why are you here, Keris? Not, What is going on, Keris?
Because she knew. He could see it in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter where they are. This isn’t your fight. Get your people back on those ships and sail south before that storm hits.” He swallowed the thickness in his throat, simultaneously struck by how beautiful she was and by the certainty that she’d hate him for what he’d done.
But it was worth it. He had to believe it was worth it.
“Where are they attacking, Keris?” She turned on her heel, and he listened to the sound of her racing down the steps, appearing at the base of the tower. “What have you done?”
“It doesn’t matter where they are, because even if you board your ship right now, it’s too late,” he answered, bracing himself as her hands balled into fists. “It will be a fight between Maridrina and Ithicana, as it should be. Valcotta and Harendell need to stay out of it.”
“What about Amarid?” she demanded. “Are they staying out of it? Or is it only Ithicana who truly stands alone?”
He lifted a shoulder because the alternative was to wince at the accuracy of her statement. “I expect they’ll stay out of the thick of it.”
“Where. Is. The. Attack?” Her eyes were bright with panic. “Tell me!”
The attack was already underway, and too far for her ships to make it in time. “My father and his fleet are attacking Eranahl.”
Zarrah blanched, her eyes filling with horror. “Eranahl is full of innocents. How could you?”
It was a plan simple in its beauty even as it was ugly in its cruelty. Leave decoy soldiers at key points along the bridge to lure Aren and his army to attack, then move on the heart of Ithicana—the island fortress of Eranahl. Once the ruse was discovered, Aren and his army would move to defend the city and be forced to fight his father’s fleet on the open water, where Ithicana was at a severe disadvantage. The war that had lasted a year would be over in a night. “People were always going to die, Zarrah. There was always going to be a battle. I just changed the grounds it was fought on.”
She doubled over, a ragged sob tearing from her lips, and Keris’s stomach twisted with guilt. With grief. It’s worth it, he silently chanted to himself. It has to be worth it.
“Load your ships and sail home, Zarrah, because no one can accuse you of wrongdoing. The Empress’s spies will have seen that Vencia remained too strongly defended for you to attack. As for you coming to Southwatch, given my father is about to gain uncontested control of the bridge, the Empress is going to look the fool for not doing more to stop him. At least you tried.”
