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The look in Aren’s eyes suggested he was well aware of that fact, yet he said, “Not if Harendell and Valcotta are true friends and allies.”
Her aunt gave an amused laugh. “The friendships between nations and rulers are inconstant, Aren. You yourself have proven that.”
“True. But not so the friendship between peoples.”
“You’re an idealist.”
Zarrah started at the word, remembering when Keris had called her so. Had he been right? She still wasn’t sure.
“A realist,” Aren answered. “Ithicana cannot continue as it has. To endure, we must change our ways.”
Ithicana wasn’t the only nation that needed to change. For while Valcotta certainlycouldcontinue to endure as it had, Zarrah no longer believed it should.
“You look like your mother,” her aunt finally said, and Zarrah frowned at the shift in subject, knowing her aunt would only go this direction if she believed it suited her purposes. “Though your father was equally easy on the eyes.”
Aren’s brow furrowed. “How could you possibly know that?”
Amusement flickered across her aunt’s face—and pleasure—for she enjoyed knowing that which others did not. And equally enjoyed dropping it on them to good effect. “Surely you don’t believe that I’d bestow friendship upon someone who only spoke to me from behind a mask?”
“She visited Valcotta?”
“Oh yes, many,manytimes. Delia was not one to be confined, and your father chased her up and down both continents trying to keep her safe. I was bested only once in Pyrinat’s games, and imagine my shock to learn that the victor was an Ithicanian princess.” Her aunt smirked and rubbed a faded scar across the bridge of her nose—one of many she possessed. “She was fierce.”
Aren’s voice was strangled as he said, “Yes.”
“Is it true your father died trying to save her life?”
He nodded.
Her aunt’s face fell, and she pressed her hand to her heart, but Zarrah’s instincts jangled, warning her the sentiment was feigned. “I will grieve her loss, and his, until the end of my days.”
Aren seemed to believe her genuine, for he said, “If you knew my mother so well, then you had to have known her dream for Ithicana and its people.”
“Freedom? Yes, she told me.” Her aunt shook her head. “But I agreed with your father in that it wasn’t possible. Ithicana’s survival was always dependent on it being impenetrable, or at least, nearly so. To unleash thousands of people who knew all of Ithicana’s secrets would see them secret no longer.” Her gaze hardened. “And worse still to allow others a view from the inside. But then, you learned that lesson, didn’t you?”
Aren gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement, likely thinking of the wife he’d left downstairs.
“And yet not only do you allow Silas Veliant’s weapon to live, you keep her close. Why is that?”
“She’s not his weapon. Not anymore.” Aren was on the defense. Which was exactly how the Empress wanted him. “She broke me free of Vencia, and after that, I needed her to survive the trek across the Red Desert.”
“It could be another ruse, you know. Ithicana has not yet fallen—a fact that sorely grieves Silas. How better to take Eranahl than to deliver into it the woman who cracked the defenses of the bridge?”
She was seeding doubt in his mind, but to what end, Zarrah wasn’t certain. Then her aunt added, “It would be nothing for us to rid you of that particular problem. She could disappear,” and Zarrah saw to the heart of her strategy. She was going to predicate her assistance on terms she knew Aren would never agree to.
And as predicted, the king went still. “No.”
“Your people will never accept her as queen. She’s the traitor who cost them their homes and the lives of their loved ones.”
“I am aware. The answer is still no.”
Silence.
“And if I say that Valcotta’s support is contingent on her death?”
“No.”
The Empress shoved away her glass, rising to her feet in a flurry of motion, feigning anger even though she was getting her way. “Even now you put Maridrina first.”
