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“The former. My spies tell me that Petra is struggling to silence the woman’s father as effectively as she did her mother. If they move against her, it would be a good opportunity to retake Nerastis.”
The words were little more than noise in Zarrah’s ears, panic raging through her veins because if Otis picked a fight with Keris, sheknewwho’d lose the encounter.
The men moved to the next room, where a table sat with trays of food, Silas sitting in one of the chairs and the Magpie standing next to him, both with their backs to her.
She’d smelled the sweat pouring off Otis. Had heard the rage and betrayal in his voice. Zarrah knew that if she didn’t warn Keris, didn’t help him, she’d regret it.
Except if she left now, she’d lose her chance to kill Silas. A chance that she might never have again.
Choose.
Indecision warred within her. Once, she’d have chosen vengeance without hesitation, but… she couldn’t lose Keris as she had Yrina.
Revenge was not worth his life.
Zarrah eased onto the windowsill, lowering herself over the edge. Only to hesitate, because she’d never climb down in time.
Then an idea occurred to her.
Easing back inside, she pulled on the velvet cloak tied to her waist, drawing the deep cowled hood forward so that it obscured her face. Then she moved on silent feet to the door, praying that Silas and Serin would think it only a servant, if they noticed a noise at all.
The guards outside glanced at her, one of them frowning, but neither spoke to her nor impeded her progress, believing her Lestara as she glided down the stairs. She held her breath, waiting for one of them to notice her bare feet were brown, not ivory, but the guards didn’t stir.
Rounding the bend, she broke into a faster pace, her feet making soft pats as she descended, stopping outside Keris’s door. She pressed her ear to the thick wood.
In time to hear a loud crash and a cry of pain.
53
KERIS
Keris was pushing a book carefully back into its spot on his shelves when he heard a faint click.
“That was quick,” he said, turning around. “What did he—”
He had a second to register the fury on Otis’s face, then the blow caught him in the stomach and drove the wind out of him.
Gasping, Keris staggered backward and fell, his brother on him in an instant.
“How could you?” Otis grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming him against the floor.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t deny it!” his brother snarled. “I know it wasn’t Lestara, because Lestara was upstairs being serviced by our father. That was Zarrah Anaphora’s room. That was Zarrah Anaphora you were fucking.”
Panic flooded his veins. “I wasn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, Keris!” Otis slammed him against the ground hard enough that Keris’s teeth rattled. “It makes perfect sense. How you kept disappearing in Nerastis, trying to disguise it by buying the tongue of that courtesan. I let it go because I thought you had a girl in the city, but it was her, wasn’t it?”
“You’ve lost your mind!”
“Have I?” Otis shouted the words, spittle striking Keris in the face. “What other reason explains how you behaved when she was captured? You ordered a good man whipped for doing his duty. Whipped to death, despite you never having orderedanyonepunished our entire lives. It was because he hurt yourlover!Because you wanted to protect yourValcottan whore!Admit it!”
Keris’s mind raced, hunting for a way to deny it, a way to get himself out of this situation. But there wasnone.All it would take was Otis telling their father what he’d seen, what he’d heard, whose room it was. The harem wouldn’t lie to protect him, not once they knew the truth. Deception would not see him clear of this, which left him only one path.
“It’s true. It was Zarrah.”
Otis went still, staring down at him as though the shock of the truth was enough to temper his anger. “How did you cross paths with her? How was that even possible?”
