he demanded, even as Welran’s brow furrowed first with surprise, then concern.
Heart in his throat, Keris slowly turned, his mind taking far too long to grasp the enormity of what he was witnessing.
When it did, the breath disappeared from his chest.
IT WAS NOT Zarrah’s first hard march, but never in her life had the stakes been so high, the ceaseless worry exhausting her far more than the riding and walking. It was certainly what kept her awake every night.
But they’d made it. Had reached the place where she’d hoped to stand her ground, the midday sun shining down upon them.
Dismounting her horse, she handed the reins to a groom, her father doing the same. Together, they waited while the camp formed around them, taking reports in the open air until the command tent was raised. “We moved faster than expected,” her father said. “Our spies may be having difficulty finding us, which is why we’ve not received news.”
Zarrah gave a short nod, her eyes on the horizon. It was too distant yet to see, but Pyrinat, Valcotta’s capital and largest city, was within a day’s march. They had made good time, for everyone near Arakis who could give up horses and oxen to the cause had done so, even as they made
preparations to evacuate the city. She’d been confident that the Usurper would choose to redirect her army to protect the capital, yet it had still been a relief to learn that plans to attack Arakis had been
abandoned and the Imperial Army was gathering near Pyrinat. Only a small relief, though, for it meant the full weight of the Imperial Army was waiting to face her.
Outnumbering her force, six to one.
“He may yet be coming,” her father said, knowing the direction of Zarrah’s thoughts. “I’ve sent out scouts to look for signs the Maridrinians are marching, but they have to proceed with caution to avoid the Usurper’s soldiers.”
Zarrah didn’t answer, as they’d had this conversation many times before. The report she’d received yesterday was that Keris remained in power and had been joined by Lara and Aren, the intent to sail to Nerastis. There’d been no news since. No word of whether his army had agreed to march in support of the rebellion, or whether they’d killed him for having the audacity to ask such a thing. Aren and Lara are with him, she reminded herself. If it comes to the worst, they’ll get him out alive.
Or so she hoped. For all the strength of Ithicana’s rulers and their soldiers, they were in no position to take on the might of Maridrina’s army in Nerastis, which was well equipped to repel sea attacks.
Especially if the Valcottan garrison there chose to engage.
There were so many unknowns. Too many, and though no one said so to her face, Zarrah heard the whispers among the rebels. Maridrina isn’t coming. They’ve abandoned us.
We stand alone.
If Keris didn’t come, it meant he was dead. Or imprisoned. Because even if his army refused to follow him, he’d have returned to her. There was no doubt of that in her heart.
So Zarrah watched the horizon, waiting, waiting, even as she quietly planned for what would have to be done if his familiar form never appeared.
“Tent’s up,” Daria said as she approached. The other woman’s presence was an endless comfort to her. Their friendship had grown during the journey, Daria taking on the role of captain of Zarrah’s bodyguard, with Saam as her lieutenant, and most of the individuals she chose to fill the ranks being survivors of Devil’s Island. Zarrah had made the choice partially to counter the negativity they faced as a result of their choices on the island, but also because they were the only ones who never whispered, never doubted. While some might accuse Zarrah of surrounding herself with sycophants who didn’t challenge her, that couldn’t be further from the truth. She surrounded herself with those from the island because they alone knew and understood what sort of man they’d allied themselves with, which meant their faith that Keris would come was just as strong as hers.
She, her father, and Daria went inside the tent to silently eat their rations, the elephant in the room growing larger with each passing second that no more scouts arrived, no messengers with news that the Maridrinian army was on the horizon.
“You have a decision to make,” her father finally said. “We need to accept that for all they might be on the march, the Maridrinians are not here now. The Usurper will make a move soon enough, and though we have the high ground here, victory is not in the cards. We need to consider retreating until we have more information about what occurred in Nerastis. Buy ourselves time.”
Zarrah exhaled, then drew in another breath, trying to calm her thundering heart. If they retreated, the Usurper’s army would put on the chase, driving them farther and farther south. If the Maridrinian army was on the march, they would have to pursue, every day a drain on resources and morale, and she wondered how long they’d last before digging in their heels.
“This was always a leap of faith, Zarrah,” her father said softly. “But we must now face reality.
Retreat, so that we might fight another day.”
A leap of faith.
abandoned and the Imperial Army was gathering near Pyrinat. Only a small relief, though, for it meant The tent faded away, and Zarrah saw herself standing on the dam outside of Nerastis, facing the gap in the spillway, Keris on the far side. Death rushing between them. She’d made that leap, and countless more since, and she refused to turn back now.
There was a commotion outside, and Zarrah tensed, eyes going to the entrance.
scouts to look for signs the Maridrinians are marching, but they have to proceed with caution to avoid
“I’ll see what it is,” Daria said, exiting.
Zarrah held her breath, letting it out in a rush as her friend stepped back inside, shaking her head.
Zarrah didn’t answer, as they’d had this conversation many times before. The report she’d received“It’s a messenger from the Usurper under a white flag,” she said. “Here to offer terms of surrender.”
Her father cursed under his breath, and Zarrah felt frustration seething out from him. Half his lifetime had been spent in pursuit of the Usurper’s downfall. He’d led the rebellion, made it strong, Aren then handed the reins to her, only for it to come to this. “Bring them in.”
Daria nodded, and a moment later, she and Saam returned with a female soldier.
Or so she hoped. For all the strength of Ithicana’s rulers and their soldiers, they were in no position
“Captain Sephra,” Zarrah said, inclining her head. “It has been a long time.”
“Zarrah.” Sephra’s gaze was cold beneath the halo of her greying hair. She’d been a member of the imperial bodyguard as long as Zarrah could remember, and other than Welran, no one was more loyal to the Usurper than her. “You should have allowed yourself to fade into oblivion, but instead your legacy will be bringing the first civil war to Valcotta in two hundred years.”
“What are her terms?” Zarrah asked, not rising to the bait.
“Her Imperial Majesty Empress Petra Anaphora offers the following terms,” Sephra said. “If her niece, Zarrah Anaphora, agrees to surrender herself to the Empress’s care, those who have unlawfully risen against rightful rule will be granted exile and allowed to retreat south into Teraford.”