The endless war, p.5
The Endless War, page 5
Sara’s eyes widened. “Whatever for? Zarrah is her family.”
This was dangerous ground. Sara was a child, and giving her valuable information put her at risk. Except if his enemies ever got hold of her, ignorance would not save her. “Serin told the Empress some things about Zarrah that she didn’t like. Things she thought made Zarrah a traitor to Valcotta.”
His sister’s face filled with disgust. “Lies. Zarrah told me of the importance of honor. She’d never do anything to harm Valcotta.”
“She didn’t betray Valcotta,” he said quietly, lifting his glass to hide his lips from anyone peering through a spy hole. “But she did choose to stop seeing the world in the same way as the Empress, who saw that as the worst sort of betrayal.”
“It’s not reasonable for her to expect everyone to think exactly as she wishes.” Sara held up her milk glass, mimicking his method. “She is an empress, not a god.”
“I’m not entirely certain she agrees, and Zarrah has been made to pay the price.” Setting down his glass, he rose, helping her up. “Lestara will have a room made up for you, as well as proper clothing brought so that you might change out of these wet things before dinner.”
Sara’s jaw worked back and forth. “May I go with you to Ithicana?”
Even if his intent had been to remain in Aren’s kingdom, he still wouldn’t consider bringing her. The Tempest Seas were too wild, too dangerous, and then there were the Ithicanians themselves… “Not this time. Perhaps during the calm season, arrangements could be made with Lara to visit her.”
Sara looked away, chin quivering.
She thought he was abandoning her. Which was fair, because, in a way, he was. “It’s not forever. I’ll be back.”
He hoped. There was every chance that he’d never step foot in Vencia again.
Guilt twisted in his stomach, along with the rising need to make Sara understand why he had to go. Why it had to be him. Keeping his voice low, he said, “If I explain my plans, will you keep them secret for me?”
“Of course,” she said without hesitation. Yet though she’d kept many of his secrets in the past, Keris’s throat still constricted. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to speak, his voice still low. “I’m going to Ithicana to ask Aren and Lara to help me rescue Zarrah from prison.”
His sister’s eyes brightened with delight. “Will you marry her?”
If only that were in the cards. “I will march armies to save her, and that’s all you need to know. Now do you understand why I need you to remain here?”
She nodded, and he helped her to the door. “Let us go find Lestara.”
“Read something to me,” Zarrah murmured, her breath warm against his chest. “Something about somewhere else.”
Keris blinked against the glow of the sun shining in the window of the stateroom, watching the endlessly rolling waves. “Do you want to be somewhere else?”
Her body shook with silent laughter, and she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her dark-lashed eyes capturing his soul. “No, but last time I let you choose, I was subjected to an hour on the history of coin making. I’d thought your voice could make anything interesting, but you proved me wrong.”
“My voice?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I hadn’t realized it was so intriguing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. You know precisely the effect it has.” Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice in mimicry of him and said, “The first known coins were made from electrum, a combination of silver and gold, with trace amounts of other metals.”
“Hmm.” He furrowed his brow at her. “I understand what you mean. When you say it that way, it’s far more fascinating.”
Zarrah gave a soft snort. “I’m going to choose.” Rolling off him, she rose naked to walk to the chest of books where it sat in front of the stateroom door. The sunlight illuminated the taut muscle and feminine curves of her naked body, and Keris rolled onto his elbow to drink her in. The most beautiful woman in the world trailing her fingers over the spines of his books, searching for the perfect volume.
Why couldn’t this be for forever?
A shadow fell over the room, and he glanced from Zarrah to the window to discover the idyllic seas had turned rough, the sky dark with ominous clouds. “I think there’s a storm coming. The sky—”
He broke off, for Zarrah had turned, the books in her hands slipping to fall with heavy thuds, her abdomen pierced with a dozen knitting needles. She opened her mouth, and blood dripped down her chin as she whispered, “Why wouldn’t you let me go?”
Keris jerked awake, heart hammering and sweat slicking his skin, the room around him dark.
Just a nightmare.
Knowing it was such didn’t make him feel any less sick, Zarrah’s voice still echoing through his mind, the accusation always the same.
A draft brushed across his cheek.
Had he opened the window? Bloody hell, he needed to ease up on the drinking, because he could scarcely remember going to bed after dining with his sister. Sitting upright, Keris peered at the shadowed drapery across the room, but it didn’t stir.
Yet he could’ve sworn that he’d smelled the salt of the sea and the stink of the city on the air. Keris’s skin crawled, and he scanned the room, searching for signs of motion. Signs that yet another of his brothers had come to try to slit his throat. He instinctively reached backward to his pillow, fingers searching for a knife.
A knock sounded on the door.
He opened his mouth to tell whoever it was to go away, but then the door swung open. He’d forgotten to bolt it. What was wrong with him?
A hooded figure stepped inside, and Keris’s fingers closed over the handle of his knife, his body tensing.
Only for the figure to draw back the hood, Lestara’s face illuminated by the lamp outside the room.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he said, letting go of the weapon.
“I’ve been told these are your favored hours.” Lestara’s voice was a purr as she nodded at whichever of his idiot guards had let her pass and shut the door. She moved to a table and turned up a lamp, then walked to the foot of his bed, unfastening the ties on her cloak.
“Lestara,” he protested, but she ignored him, dropping her cloak.
And revealing her naked body underneath.
Shit.
Keeping his eyes fixed on her forehead, he said, “I thought I’d made myself clear, Lestara. I’ve no intention of marrying the harem, regardless—”
“Of tradition?” She smiled, finishing the sentence he’d said over and over since taking the throne. “I don’t blame you. Half of them are old enough to be your mother, and the rest are mothers of your siblings. But not me.”
She eased onto the bed, crawling toward him like a cat, her breasts swaying with the motion. Keris shifted backward, his shoulders hitting the headboard as he searched the ground for his discarded trousers, spotting them halfway across the room. Fuck.
“I’m the daughter of a king,” she murmured. “I was raised to rule, and I’m very good at it. Among other things.”
Her fingers latched onto the blanket, trying to pull it down, but Keris grabbed hold of the fabric. A battle ensued, which might have been comedic if he weren’t on the verge of panicking. “Lestara, you need to leave.”
She sat back on her heels, full lips pouting. “I have to say, with your reputation, this wasn’t the reaction I expected.” Not giving him a chance to respond, she added, “Is it because I’m not a whore that you pay with silver afterward?” Her slow smile returned, and she reached forward to trail a finger down his chest and stomach. “I can play whore; you’ll just have to pay me in gold and jewels. And make me your queen.”
Anger chased away his panic, and he batted her hand away before she could reach under the blanket. “Get out of my bed, Lestara. I’m not interested.”
The seductress vanished, frustration twisting her features. “Why not?”
Because you aren’t her. “You’re my father’s wife.”
“Silas is dead,” she hissed, “and I have a hard time believing that you care that I’m not a maid, given your proclivities.” Her eyes darkened with spite. “Worried you won’t measure up? Worried you aren’t the man your father was?”
The laugh that tore from his lips was bitter. “Nice try. Now get the fuck out of my room before I have the guards drag you out and put you on a ship back to Cardiff.”
Her amber eyes widened. “You wouldn’t… My father will have me killed for my failures if you send me back.”
The statement made him question just what the King of Cardiff had expected Lestara to achieve, but Keris shoved the thought aside. “Then it seems the choice is clear. Get out of my bedroom and go back to your own. Once there, you may choose whether you wish to take your jewelry and leave this palace to pursue your own ends or whether you wish to remain in this household as a favored aunt. But allow me to be abundantly clear, Lestara. You will never be queen of Maridrina.”
No longer caring that he was naked, Keris slung his legs off the side of the bed and strode to where his trousers lay in a pile on the floor. As he pulled them on, she said, “You’re a fool to cast me aside. You need me.”
“And why is that?” He buckled his belt, walking to the door because, evidently, words weren’t going to get her to leave. But her next statement froze him in place.
“Without me as an ally, you’ll return from Ithicana to discover you no longer have a crown.”
“Is that a threat?” he demanded, slowly turning.
“No.” Lestara lifted her chin, eyes full of defiance. “It’s a foretelling. Other than the rabble you dress in uniforms, no one supports you, Keris. Not the military. Not the nobility. Not even the people, who are coming to believe you are every bit the monster your father was. If you turn your back to go on this errand to Ithicana, mark my words, one of your brothers will stage a coup and take the throne.”
Nothing he didn’t know, yet for some reason, hearing it from Lestara caused his stomach to twist.
“But through me, you have the harem,” she said. “The daughters and sisters and nieces of the most powerful men in the kingdom and beyond. Our influence will sway them to support you, to keep your brothers in check, and to ensure the crown remains firmly on your head when you return.”
It was what his father had used them for. Why he’d married so many women over the years. Because marriage secured alliances and power. “Why? Why not wait until my back is turned and then choose one of my brothers and make this pitch to them? Why bother with me?”
Lestara slipped off the bed, bending to retrieve her cloak, which she donned before approaching him. “Because you’re the best of his sons, Keris. The only one of age who we trust to heal Maridrina and make it strong again.”
She was trying to make him believe the harem supported her actions, which Keris doubted. “Am I to assume that the price of this offer is marrying you?”
She hesitated, then said, “In Cardiff, on a child’s seventh birthday, a witch looks to the stars and sees the child’s fate. The stars said that I would be a powerful woman, a queen, and that my deeds would never be forgotten. They said nothing about living out my days in obscurity as a favored aunt.”
A story mapped in the stars.
Keris exhaled a long breath. For his kingdom, agreeing to wed her, or someone like her, would be the right thing to do. A strategic choice that any good king would make.
But he wasn’t a good king, and never would be.
“Not queen of Maridrina.” He twisted the handle on the door, swinging it open. “Please leave.”
Lestara stared at him, jaw tight, but instead of obeying, she said, “The book I gave you before you left for Nerastis. I want it back. It was a token of a sentiment I find that I no longer hold for you.”
Book? He blinked, then remembered that cursed book about stars and the stories they told. Zarrah had brought it to the dam with her the night they’d first been together. Had she thrown it in the spillway? His mind dredged up the memory of her throwing his coat into the water, but the book… That, she’d clutched to her chest. What had become of it after that moment, he had no notion. He’d only had eyes for Zarrah. “It’s in Nerastis.”
“All your things were brought back from Nerastis.”
“I’ll look for it tomorrow,” he hedged. “It’s the middle of the night; I’m not going to go rooting through my library right now.” Hopefully he’d get out of having to account for it by boarding a ship to Ithicana.
“If you have it, I want it back. Now.”
His temper rose, fueled by lack of sleep and irritation that she’d throw a tantrum over a book because she wasn’t getting her way. “I don’t know where it is, all right? It’s probably lost.”
Lestara squeezed her eyelids shut, twin tears flowing out from around them, and guilt instantly replaced his anger.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”
Silence.
“It’s fine.” Her eyelids opened, and no more tears gleamed within. “It’s better that I know the truth.”
Without another word, she left the room.
Rubbing at his temples, Keris said to his guards, who were looking everywhere but at him, “No more visitors. I need some sleep.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” one of them mumbled. “She…she said you were expecting her.”
“I’m not expecting anyone,” Keris answered, swinging the door shut. “Good night.”
He stood staring at the door for a long moment, then placed the beam in the brackets, ensuring that he’d have no more unwanted visitors tonight.
Turning down the flame on the lamp, he walked toward his bed, unbuckling his belt as he did. But as he was about to drop his trousers, cold steel pressed against his throat, and a female voice said, “Well, that was an interesting conversation.”
7
ZARRAH
Woodsmoke filled her nose, and a moment later, her captors pulled her to a stop, shoving her down to her knees.
“Welcome.” The sack was pulled from her head, revealing a woman’s face illuminated by dawn light.
Zarrah tried to get to her feet but was shoved back down.
“Relax,” the woman said. “We’re just going to have a little chat.”
Given she’d been forcibly dragged into the camp of a group of criminals, relaxing was the furthest thing from Zarrah’s mind. Yet there was no threat in the woman’s demeanor, so Zarrah risked taking her eyes off her and panned their surroundings. She was in a camp formed of six small buildings made of rough-hewn logs, tarps of what looked like scraps of sail stretched over a handful of small cooking fires. Men and women wandered about, all armed, but it was the two children playing a game with rocks and twigs who caught her eye. Children weren’t condemned to this place, which meant…
“They were born on the island,” the woman said, having followed Zarrah’s line of sight. “Common enough, though very few survive. Same for the mothers.”
Did her aunt know about this? Did she care?
A thought for later, given that Zarrah remained trussed in a camp full of criminals, the vast majority of whom were likely murderers. “The others said you’d kill me.”
The woman chuckled. “Well, we will if you cause trouble, that’s true enough. But with a face like yours, Kian’s warning was a self-serving one. I’m sure he took one look at you and decided he wanted you in his harem of women. Bastard acts like King Silas Veliant, the way he collects the pretty ones. Treats them like little queens, it’s true. Unfortunately his pecker is filled with disease, so it comes with a cost, if you get my meaning.”
Zarrah gagged, then said, “Silas Veliant is dead.”
The woman shrugged. “No great loss there, and I’m sure he was swiftly replaced by one of his progeny.”
By Keris.
“As fascinating as whatever fresh gossip you bring from the mainland is, you’ll find it matters little on Devil’s Island,” the woman said. “The name is Daria, by the way.”
Zarrah focused on the woman, who was perhaps a handful of years older than Zarrah was herself. Of average looks, her dark-brown hair was captured in a long braid down her back, her skin a similar hue of brown to Zarrah’s own, and her eyes hazel. Old scars marred her bare arms, the rest of her body covered by patched clothing that needed to be cleaned. “Are you the leader of this group?”
“One of them.” Reaching forward, Daria untied Zarrah’s bonds. “So what did you do to earn a spot in the Empire’s asshole?”
It wasn’t an idle question.
What she’d done to earn her spot in this place mattered to the woman, though whether her crime would keep her in or out of this camp, Zarrah wasn’t entirely certain. What she did know was that telling these people the truth of her identity, the truth of her crime, would see her slaughtered in heartbeats. “Murder.”
“Who did you kill?”
It was more a matter of who she hadn’t killed, but Zarrah shrugged and said, “Superior officer with wandering hands.”
“You were a soldier, then? You can fight? I don’t mean like a whore in a cathouse brawl, but like a warrior.”
Zarrah met her gaze. “Yes.”
Daria smiled. “Good. As you’ve already seen, we don’t all get along on this island, and we could use good fighters.” Her head tilted. “Name?”
