Daria took a step back, shaking her head, and Zarrah saw that freedom was worth too much to her to take the risk. That the Endless War was a distant threat to be dealt with another day, not something to guide her hand.
That Daria was afraid.
Yet it was Aren who broke the silence. “You would defy your Empress?”
Zarrah stared at him in confusion as he surveyed the rebels with disdain. “You claim to fight in Zarrah’s name as the rightful Empress of Valcotta, but she has called you to arms, and you turn your backs?” He scoffed. “Seems to me you fight only for yourselves, and in Ithicana, we have a word for that. It isn’t honor.”
Rightful Empress?
“He won’t risk crossing Petra,” Aren said. “He’ll take him prisoner, which gives us time to get him Then Aren’s eyes fixed on hers. “To rule is to lead, Imperial Majesty. Don’t let your first and last act be to lead them to certain death.”
She had no time to question why Aren had referred to her as such, not with Keris’s life on the line.
Answers would be had after they got out of this alive.
Zarrah swallowed, panic warring with a lifetime of military training. Daria and Aren were right.
To attack Kian from the rear would only be delaying Keris’s death, not sparing him.
Turning in a slow circle, she let her mind drift, taking in all the variables and considering her enemy, whom she knew better than anyone here. Then she faced her army. “This,” she said, “is what we are going to do.”
“I don’t want to leave him,” the King of Ithicana said. “But this isn’t a fight we can win. Even if we
Rightful Empress?
Then Aren’s eyes fixed on hers. “To rule is to lead, Imperial Majesty. Don’t let your first and last act be to lead them to certain death.”
She had no time to question why Aren had referred to her as such, not with Keris’s life on the line.
Answers would be had after they got out of this alive.
Zarrah swallowed, panic warring with a lifetime of military training. Daria and Aren were right.
To attack Kian from the rear would only be delaying Keris’s death, not sparing him.
Turning in a slow circle, she let her mind drift, taking in all the variables and considering her enemy, whom she knew better than anyone here. Then she faced her army. “This,” she said, “is what we are going to do.”
KERIS’S EYES FOCUSED on the tip of the arrow, fear pouring over him like ice water, chilling him to the core. Not only because he was facing his final moments of life, but because the
distraction he’d planned to allow everyone else to escape would be far, far too short-lived.
Think.
Bermin was a talker. A braggart. If he could draw this moment out even for a few minutes longer, it could be enough for everyone to escape the prison, if not the island itself. “What will your mother say when she learns you killed me and left me to rot in obscurity? Petra doesn’t seem the sort to respond favorably to any disruption of her plans, and putting an arrow through my heart just doesn’t smack of one of her strategies.”
The Valcottan prince laughed, the tip of the arrow shaking. “Because it isn’t my mother’s, Your Grace. It’s my strategy.”
Keris stiffened. He’d believed it was Petra across the gameboard from him, which meant he’d been playing the wrong enemy.
Time for a change of tactic.
Leaning back, Keris laughed. “You don’t take a shit without your mother’s permission, Bermin. Do you really expect me to believe you aren’t a pawn in her greater scheme? And allow me to remind you—pawns that don’t play their roles are swiftly disposed of.”
Even across the channel of water between them, Keris could feel Bermin’s simmer of rage. Feel the fury that only the truth could provoke. But to his credit, Bermin kept it in check.
“Her scheme is still in play.” Bermin held his arms wide, bow in one hand and arrow in the other.
“For it was not your capture she sought, but that of the rebel commander. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist Zarrah’s plight and would swoop in for the rescue, only to be slaughtered by her waiting navy. You”—he laughed—“were not even a factor because my mother never once considered that you’d come for Zarrah.”
Keris went still, Bermin’s words twisting in his mind. It didn’t make sense. Serin’s revelation of his relationship with Zarrah was what had caused Petra to incarcerate her niece here, so why wouldn’t she have thought he would come?
“Looking for the logic?” Barking out another laugh, Bermin lowered the bow to his side. “You will look forever because you are attempting to understand the mind of a madwoman.” He took a step closer to the edge of the cliff. “She can’t stand that you stole Zarrah’s affection from her because she needs to be beloved by all. She needs Zarrah to come back to her, to love her, to worship her, and in order for her to believe that possible, you needed to become the heartless Veliant who manipulated her precious niece to achieve your own ends. Not just in Zarrah’s eyes, but in her own. She convinced herself that you were a demon, and demons don’t come to rescue those they’ve used.”
Every word Bermin said sank into his soul, but Keris didn’t allow himself to consider the
implications of a madwoman ruling an empire. All that mattered was keeping Bermin talking. Buying more time. “But you knew I’d come?”
“My mother doesn’t know you like I do.” Bermin tilted his head, clearly enjoying the pleasure of being correct. “She thinks you a heartless strategist who murdered his own brother to hide his schemes. Who let his own aunt take the fall for a failed coup to take the crown. Who arranged the death of his own father at the expense of thousands of lives. But I saw you gallop alone into the middle of a raid to aid your people. Watched you climb into a burning home to rescue two gutter-rat children. You are not heartless, Keris Veliant, no, no … You are a man whose heart decides all, even when it risks costing him everything.”
“You’re more perceptive than I gave you credit for.” Keris kept his focus on the Prince even as he on the tip of the arrow, fear pouring over him like ice water, chilling himwaited for any sign of commotion. For any sign that Zarrah, and all those with her, had been spotted in their escape. “Though I fail to see what you have to gain from this little side plot to capture and kill me when it will surely infuriate your mother. If she wanted me dead, she’d have sent an assassin a long time ago.”
Bermin was a talker. A braggart. If he could draw this moment out even for a few minutes longer, it
“It’s not about you, Veliant.” Bermin spat in the water below. “It’s about Zarrah. She’s a traitor to could be enough for everyone to escape the prison, if not the island itself. “What will your mother say Valcotta, yet my mother still desires her as heir. From Zarrah’s own lips, she admitted to giving you our strategies to prevent me from taking Nerastis. She’s not your victim but your whore, and yet my mother would set her above me.”
The soldiers around Bermin shifted angrily, cursing Zarrah, but Bermin raised his arm to silence them. “She desires Zarrah to be redeemed, but there is only one way for that to happen. One way for my mother to be entirely certain of Zarrah’s loyalty, and that’s if Zarrah destroys you.”