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A conflict that she was about to extend by delivering on her promise to Aren.
Bermin’s jaw was tight, his eyes again dark. “You aren’t in command anymore, little Zarrah—that is the price of your overambition, and you’d do well not to overstep.”
Ah,Zarrah thought, his unease about her intentions a subtle clue that Zarrah had not entirely fallen from the Empress’s grace. “I’ve no desire to resume command of this garrison. My intent is to return to Pyrinat, and by the Empress’s will, to remain there permanently.”
Silence.
Often, she’d called her cousin stupid, but that wasn’t entirely the case, for he possessed a certain sort of selfish cunning. That cunning was hard at work now, judging the truth of her words. And they were true—Zarrah’s eyes weren’t on the title of general. They were on the Empress’s throne in Pyrinat.
“You’ve changed,” Bermin finally said, and she gave the slightest of nods.
“I had a great deal of time alone to reflect on my choices of the past.” She cleared her throat. “I do need a favor from you, though. I incurred debts in my escape that would be more easily paid while I am in Nerastis, but I will have difficulty accessing my credit, given I’ve little proof of my identity. Would you write something guaranteeing me?”
Bermin huffed out a breath. “You need coin.”
The color that heated her cheeks was no act, and if there’d been a way to avoid this, she would have. But waiting until she could visit the bankers in Pyrinat was not a delay that she could afford, and the scheme she’d planned needed her to be here to enact it. “Yes. And as soon as I’ve paid my debts, I’ll be on a ship south.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He reached for a paper but paused before dipping his pen into the pot of ink. “If it had been my choice, we’d have gone after you, cousin. For all that our relationship has been strained in recent years, you are my blood. And abandoning you cost me honor.”
Zarrah drew in a breath, the sentiment hitting her harder than she expected. “Thank you,” she said, watching as he swiftly wrote a note guaranteeing her, sealing the purple wax with his heavy signet ring before handing the document over. As she was tucking it into a pocket, the food arrived, the servants filling Bermin’s desk with plate after plate. Zarrah dug in, the familiar tastes exquisite on her tongue, her cousin also eating with relish, both of them sipping at sweet wine.
“We heard some details about your escape,” Bermin said between mouthfuls. “Is it true the traitor queen orchestrated it all?”
Zarrah nodded. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, as are her sisters. If Silas allowed women into his armies, I daresay we might be the losers in the encounter.” When her cousin gave an amused snort, she added, “I’m not joking, Bermin. The six of them infiltrated the palace in nothing but dancing costumes, with no weapons, and took down at least two dozen of Silas’s men.”
Bermin blinked, then gave an appreciative nod. “When did you part ways with them?”
“In Vencia.” She sipped her wine. “I expect they’re already back in Ithicana.” A reminder that she needed to honor her debt, not sit here drinking with her cousin.
But Bermin shook his head. “They’re not in Ithicana. And they also haven’t been killed by Silas’s men, despite rumors to the contrary. Last word we received, the Maridrinians were pursuing Aren Kertell and his queen, who were alone, into the Red Desert.”
The wine soured in her mouth. “Pardon?”
“They’re probably dead by now. Or if not now, then soon.” Bermin drained his glass. “No supplies, no camels, nowater.They’ve not got a goddamned chance.”
Zarrah’s stomach hollowed, grief making her body ache, and she set her glass down with a heavy clink. What had gone so horribly wrong that they’d been pushed into the Red Desert? What had happened to Keris’s other sisters? To the Ithicanians who’d been part of the rescue?
“You grieve for them?”
“Yes.” She pressed her hand to her heart to honor them. “Aren is a good man. An honorable one, for all he’s made mistakes. He helped me when he didn’t have to.” And not to save himself, but to save his people. Her eyes stung, and she squeezed them shut. “I wish I could have done more.”
Across from her, Bermin shifted in his chair, and she felt his discomfort. Knew it was because he hated displays of emotion that he didn’t share. So it was no shock when he said, “You should rest, cousin. I’ll have your things brought to you.”
“Thank you.” She rose. “I’ll make arrangements to depart for Pyrinat as soon as I can find a ship sailing south.”
“Let me know if I can assist.”
He led her to the door, giving the order to a waiting servant to see her to a room and for her things to be brought to her. Zarrah silently followed the servant to the quarters, her packed clothing and personal belongings arriving while she was in the bath.
Dressing in her uniform, Zarrah strapped her weapons on and ensured her cousin’s letter was safely stowed in her pocket before leaving word she was going to speak with ship captains about passage.
Valcotta had control of the Nerastis port, and the docks were currently full of merchant vessels loading and unloading cargo, with well-armed naval vessels anchored in the harbor, watchful for any sign of a Maridrinian attack. But Zarrah ignored the military ships, instead eyeing merchant vessels being loaded with grains harvested from the fertile fields south of the city. Not just any ship would do. She needed one capable of weathering the Tempest Seas—and one with a captain with the balls to do so. Spotting a familiar vessel, she approached, the sailors stopping what they were doing when one of them recognized her.
“I’d like to speak to your captain,” she said, and was swiftly escorted to his quarters.
“General!” The captain clambered to his feet, eyes wide as he pressed his hand to his heart. “We’d heard of your escape with Ithicana’s king, but not that you’d returned to Nerastis. It is a relief to see you alive.”
Zarrah didn’t correct the use of what was now Bermin’s title, only inclined her head. “It feels good to be back on Valcottan soil.” When he motioned to the chair across the desk, she sat. “You’re loading a cargo of grain, yes? Destined for Pyrinat, I assume?”
