Some might say hers was a history that proved her unworthy. That proved her fallible. But
worthiness was not proven by never falling. It was proven by surviving the impact, learning from the error, and climbing upright again. For it was the struggle to rise from the depths of her own mistakes that had given Zarrah the strength needed to be the victor in this endless war.
And there was one mistake she would not make again.
Her mind recoiled at that thought, and Zarrah pressed her fingers to her temples. Though Keris was She turned, searching for the light that had helped guide her through every storm. Only to find him absent. “Where is Keris?”
themselves in deep and were pulling them farther apart with each passing mile the cart traveled. He’d A flicker of panic bit at Zarrah’s stomach, but she buried it even as she gripped Daria’s hand, rising
“The True Empress,” someone shouted, and the words spread across the rebels, repeating over and her strengths turning to weakness and leaving her a shadow of herself until light appeared to guide her
She turned, searching for the light that had helped guide her through every storm. Only to find him absent. “Where is Keris?”
WEAPONS WERE DRAWN, the soldiers accompanying the rebel commander moving to encircle
him, and Keris was reminded that for all the rebels desired an end to the war, it didn’t
mean they held Maridrinians in good esteem.
Most especially those bearing his name.
“Likewise, Commander.” He lowered his fists, forcing himself to relax despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Though I must say, I expected a meeting at your stronghold, not a private conversation on the side of the road.”
The commander chuckled. “You’re a Veliant, Your Grace. For all your recent actions suggest that you are a different man than your father, that does not mean I’m fool enough to bring you into my camp without first getting your measure.”
“Without your empress present?”
The older man tilted his head. “Why? Do you wish to hide behind her?”
“On the contrary,” Keris answered, “I don’t wish to do anything behind her back.”
Neither of them spoke, the commander continuing to circle him, looking Keris up and down like he was an animal at market. Keris made no attempt to hide his own scrutiny. The leader of the Valcottan rebels was perhaps in his early fifties, his head shaved to the scalp, his dark beard laced with grey.
He was powerfully built, somewhat taller than Keris but far bulkier, his bare forearms and hands marked with old scars, as well as a few fresh ones, likely courtesy of the battle on Devil’s Island.
“I’ve done my research on you, Your Grace,” the commander finally said. “Ninth son of Silas Veliant, birthed by a desert nomad plucked from obscurity for her beauty.”
“Adara,” Keris said coolly even as he wondered the last time he’d spoken his mother’s name. “Say what you will of my father, but I’ll suffer no slander against my mother.”
The commander inclined his head. “None intended. Her daughter became queen of Ithicana, her son the king of Maridrina. I think it a shame her life was cut short, though it is said that her murder was what put you at odds with your father.”
“People say many things.”
“Indeed. I was told you could barely lift a sword without risking your own limbs yet saw
otherwise with my own eyes.” The man continued to circle. “You are known to be highly educated.
Fluent in several languages. A patron of the arts. But also a drinker, a gambler, and a womanizer.”
Keris remained silent, some sixth sense telling him that there was something about this exchange that he was missing.
“I have pages upon pages of information about you, Your Grace. Much as I did your father, for while Maridrina is not my enemy, Silas Veliant most certainly was.”
Keris tilted his head. “For what he did to Aryana?”
The commander stopped his circling, and in his eyes, Keris saw anger. Not the hot flood of fresh rage, but an old fury. The kind that had existed for so long that it had become a permanent fixture, its roots dug so deeply into the heart and soul that it influenced every thought, every action. Who was Aryana to you? Keris silently asked. Who are you to have dedicated your life to her cause?
Who are you to Zarrah that you’d risk everything to rescue her?
“Yes,” the commander finally answered. “Though the list of your father’s crimes is long.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that.” Keris briefly considered revealing Petra’s complicity but decided against it, for that truth was Zarrah’s to tell. That this conversation was happening behind her back was bad enough.
“So imagine my surprise when I arrived on Devil’s Island to liberate my empress and my people, only to discover that Silas’s son, Maridrina’s king, had beaten me to it. Adding to my shock was the discovery that he was in the company of the King of Ithicana, whose kingdom was so recently brutalized in Maridrina’s invasion, as well as its queen, who was the instigator of the violence and who also happens to be your sister.”
Keris shrugged, then dusted snow off his sleeve, his mind racing. He’d been preoccupied with Zarrah, and with survival, which meant that he’d not given nearly enough thought to the motivations of those he’d deemed minor players in the game. He was discovering now that they weren’t minor at all.
“I fail to see why this conversation necessitated dumping me into the snow on the side of the road.”
you are a different man than your father, that does not mean I’m fool enough to bring you into my camp Ignoring the question, the commander said, “Daria provided me with some explanation for your motivations on our journey back to Arakis, informing me of the depths of your relationship with my empress, but she knew nothing about your intentions.”
“To ally with Zarrah, and with you, to unseat Petra from the throne,” Keris said, knowing full well that he hadn’t answered the man’s question any more than the commander had answered his.
“So that’s why your army is massing in Nerastis?”
This was the first piece of intelligence about his country that Keris had received since leaving Vencia, and some level of proof that his orders were being followed. “At present, they are there for defense. Petra has made it abundantly clear that she desires to invade Maridrina. A plan made clearer through my own efforts to spy on Welran. But ultimately, when Zarrah makes her move against Petra, I’ll commit my own forces to aid her.”
“Of course you will. Except answer this, Your Grace: why do none of your soldiers know your plans?”
“Adara,” Keris said coolly even as he wondered the last time he’d spoken his mother’s name. “Say Keris’s hands turned cold.
“We have spies in your palace in Nerastis. Your officers speak freely around paid company, and The commander inclined his head. “None intended. Her daughter became queen of Ithicana, her sonnot one has whispered of your so-called plan for peace. Only about continued plans for war. Why is that?”
There was a reason. A reason that terrified Keris so badly that his mind shied away from even considering it, even though it had the power to destroy his plans with Zarrah. “Screaming my strategies for all to hear is a good way to arm my enemies.”