Zarrah didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, because it felt like none of the air she breathed reached her lungs.
“He’ll want me to convince you to see reason,” Aren eventually said. “And I owe him enough to try.”
“Why do you feel like you owe him anything?” she demanded. “He stabbed you in the back when he turned Silas on Eranahl.”
Aren was silent, the only noise the pounding of surf against the ship’s hull. “There are moments in life where one stands at a crossroads, and each path leads to a future so wildly different from the other that it seems impossible they stemmed from the same place. Most of the time, the ripples of those choices touch only a few. But sometimes a choice is made, and the ripples are not ripples at all but rather tsunamis that tear across the world, altering everything in their path.” He was quiet again,
then said, “I know where I stand now, but I can also see where I would have stood if Keris hadn’t chosen you, and for my part, I’m glad he did.”
Part of Zarrah wanted the violence. Wanted to spend some of her rage in a fight, lest it consume her She should be glad they’d reconciled, glad Keris had earned Aren’s forgiveness, but that wasn’t the feeling that rose in her chest.
“And just what is it that Keris wants me to do?” she asked bitterly. “Tell me so that I might play my part in his plans to perfection.”
Aren took a deep breath, then said, “You are standing at a crossroads now, Zarrah. If what you want is for me to take you back to Pyrinat so that you can attempt to kill Petra, I will. But even if you Abruptly, Zarrah found she couldn’t breathe. Scrambling to her feet, she rushed past Aren. Out onto succeed, I think the only future it will change is your own. Whereas if you walk the path to claim the Valcottan crown”—he rose to his feet—“I think you have the power to change the world.”
Zarrah remained where she was for a long time after he left, Aren’s words circling her skull. No, not Aren’s words—Keris’s, for the King of Ithicana had merely played the messenger. It reminded her of the moments they’d spent talking on the top of the dam in Nerastis, when, despite having little idea of how it might be accomplished, changing their world had felt possible. Whereas now she knew Memory of that moment filled her mind’s eye. Of her aunt galloping toward her, face a mask of fury.what must be done and yet stood frozen at the crossroads, not wanting to take that path.
Wanting instead to race down the familiar trail, weapons in hand, in search of blood.
But if she claimed her birthright and joined with the rebels, she could use their military might and connections to pursue a lawful claim to Valcotta’s throne. And with an alliance with Keris, she could end the war. Could give her country a chance to heal from generations of trauma.
It was a good plan. But it was also Keris’s plan, and that made her want to run as far and fast from it as she could. What is to stop you from making the same mistake again? her aunt whispered. What is to stop you from being lured back into his bed with sweet words and promises of pleasure?
Zarrah gave a violent shake of her head. Her aunt was a madwoman and a murderer; nothing she said could be taken as the truth.
But Bermin hadn’t been mad, and he, perhaps more than anyone, had seen the truth of the Empress’s villainy. You’ll never be your own master, Zarrah! Not while you’re Maridrina’s whore.
Was an alliance of equals with Keris possible? Or would she ever and always be doing his
bidding?
Her aunt was right that Keris had a hold on her, would always have a hold on her, and that terrified Zarrah because he’d proven that he wouldn’t always abide her choices. Inevitably, another
circumstance would arise where he went behind her back to have things his way.
“Still breathing.” Aren’s shadow settled down on the deck next to her. “He’s tougher than he looks.
But to deny this path would mean denying Valcotta peace.
Zarrah rose to her feet, body stiff with cold and all the little injuries she’d sustained in the escape, but she ignored the pain and crossed the dark deck to the captain’s quarters. Taking a deep breath, she Zarrah didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer, because it felt like none of the air she breathed reached her opened the door and stepped inside.
Like iron to a lodestone, her eyes went to Keris’s still form on the floor. Lara had put a pillow under his head and packed blankets around him, but his body still shivered from loss of blood and the cold, his eyes closed.
Zarrah’s control wavered, panic rising, but she forced her heart to calm. This was her weakness talking, and she would not concede to it.
A slight cough caught her attention, and she found Aren sitting on the bed, with his wife asleep in his arms. Lara appeared small and fragile in comparison to her husband’s large form, but as Zarrah watched, one of the Queen’s eyes opened. It reminded her of children’s stories of sleeping dragons that, once woken, wreaked havoc on those who’d disturbed their rest. Lara’s gaze promised violence if Zarrah took a wrong step toward her brother.
“Do we know whether the rebel ships escaped?” she asked quietly.
Aren lifted one shoulder. “No. But I suspect the rebels have some experience evading capture.”
She should be glad they’d reconciled, glad Keris had earned Aren’s forgiveness, but that wasn’t the Tension eased in her chest, some unconscious part of her having worried about the fate of those men and women who’d risked their lives for hers. “Do you know where to find them?”
“And just what is it that Keris wants me to do?” she asked bitterly. “Tell me so that I might play my
“Daria told us that their stronghold is in Arakis. They control the city, so if you go there, they’ll find you.”
Zarrah gave a tight nod. “If you can get me to the coast, I’ll travel there myself.”
“We can manage that.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed hard. “I know I haven’t earned a response yet, but if this … strategy comes to fruition and I take on my aunt for the crown, will I have Ithicana’s support?”
Aren was silent for a long moment, his hand moving absently up and down Lara’s back as he
not Aren’s words—Keris’s, for the King of Ithicana had merely played the messenger. It reminded her thought. “It’s not my support you need.”
Keris shifted, muttering something unintelligible, and her eyes snapped to him. But he fell still again.
“Earn the crown,” Aren said. “Then we’ll talk. But for now, get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll sail for Arakis.”
Keris muttered again, but this time what he said was clear. “Fight, Valcotta.”
It was hard to breathe as her chest twisted, the muscles in her legs flexing as she fought the urge to go to him. You cannot allow him to control you, she screamed at herself. You must stand alone if you are to be the master of your own fate.
“In the morning, then,” she said. “Good night, Your Graces.”
Turning on her heel, Zarrah stepped back out into the cold.
But Bermin hadn’t been mad, and he, perhaps more than anyone, had seen the truth of the Empress’s Her aunt was right that Keris had a hold on her, would always have a hold on her, and that terrified but she ignored the pain and crossed the dark deck to the captain’s quarters. Taking a deep breath, she under his head and packed blankets around him, but his body still shivered from loss of blood and the