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So Keris detailed the rest of the plan, a part of himself withering and dying as his father’s smile grew, pride radiating from his gaze. “You are my son after all. A true Veliant. I knew it. I’ve always known it. And I think so have you, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.”
As much as Keris wanted to deny it, he knew his father was right.
Keris gave a slight nod, and he sent out a silent plea to wherever Zarrah was on the high seas.
Forgive me.
82
ZARRAH
“The harbor chain is still up.”
Zarrah glanced left at the captain of the ship, who was lowering his spyglass from his assessment of Vencia. “That’s two days it’s remained up, with all merchant vessels turned away to seek berth in other harbors. And the seas are growing rougher, the winds higher. Storm season is nearly upon us.”
“Agreed.” The captain rested his elbows on the rail. “I’m afraid we may not be able to pursue the Empress’s desired course of action, General. Not with the updates we received last night.”
Zarrah had sent a longboat to shore under the cover of darkness to meet with Valcottan spies, who’d told them with no uncertainty that not only had Silasnotemptied the city’s defenses to bolster his forces engaged with subduing Ithicana, he’d doubled them. Which meant attacking would be a death wish.
“Our plans must have leaked somehow,” one of her lieutenants muttered. “They’re prepared for an attack. I wouldn’t be surprised if they keep the chain up until storm season strikes.”
Zarrah knew exactly how Silas had come to know the Empress’s intent: Keris. How he’d managed to convince Silas not to risk the attack for the sake of his plans in Ithicana, she didn’t know. But regardless, the Empress’s plans to sack Vencia were now in shambles, the chance of success far too low to risk so many Valcottan soldiers.
Zarrah knew exactly what Keris wanted her to do in response: to sail back to Nerastis with no fear of the Empress’s wrath for not completing her mission to burn Vencia.
“What are your orders, General?” the captain asked. “Do you wish to raid down the coast instead?”
“No.” Zarrah straightened. “Head back to open water to rejoin our other ships. Once we’re clear from view, I want every soldier on deck.”
They sailed northwest, the swells beneath the ship growing as they moved deeper into the Tempest Seas, but once the lookout had called all clear, soldiers flowed onto the deck, their expressions inquisitive.
This was the moment. The moment she needed to take this final step in betraying her aunt’s commands. While Zarrah had no intention of turning back, she still had a choice to make.
The soldiers watched her silently, waiting, and Zarrah bit the insides of her cheeks as she debated what to do. The easiest and surest path would be to lie to them. To say that the Empress had given her alternative plans to pursue if the attack on Vencia failed. To do so would mean all these soldiers would follow her unquestioningly to Southwatch, entirely ignorant of their treason.
Would mean using them.
Except she knew what it was like to be used. Knew the sour, sick feeling that would fill their guts when they discovered that she, their trusted general, had deceived them. Knew that for all her motivations were pure, taking that step would make her little better than her aunt, who weighed strategy over honor.
Zarrah had sworn to honor herself, which left her with only one choice: the truth.
To be honest in her motivations and pray that their consciences drove them to follow her. She’d chosen these men and women specifically, every last one of them having been with her when the Maridrinian fleet had sailed past them to Ithicana. Every last one of them bearing the guilt of inaction. Zarrah prayed it weighed upon them as much as it did her, because if she was wrong, Ithicana would be the one to suffer.
“A year ago,” she shouted, “we watched as Silas Veliant’s fleet sailed past ours on its way to Ithicana. On its way to stab an ally in the back for the sake of one man’s quest for more power and wealth. It was the honorless move of a king more rat than man. A creature who’d win wars with guile and deception rather than face his opponent with bravery and skill!”
Her soldiers murmured in agreement, nodding their heads, several shouting, “The Maridrinians are cowards! They have no honor!”
“Perhaps that is so!” she shouted. “But what of us? What of our honor?”
Silence.
“We stood by andwatchedas they sailed past! We offered no resistance, no warning, despite knowing better than any nation on earth the horror Ithicana faced!” Zarrah walked forward, the ranks parting for her. “How many times have we witnessed the massacre of a raid? Seen homes destroyed, men and women slaughtered, children orphaned? How many times have we been only minutes too late, cursed to spend the nights awake wondering what might have been different if we’d only ridden faster? Yet when faced with the chance to stop an entire kingdom from seeing such a fate, we did not sail faster! We turned our backs!”
Circling round to the front again, she shouted, “We were the cowards that day!”
Her soldiers stared at their feet, and Zarrah could feel their shame. And she knew that, like her, they desired to atone.
“King Aren Kertell has returned to Ithicana,” she continued, trusting that the words she needed would find the way to her tongue. “He is rallying his people to fight the Maridrinians and drive them out. To liberate his kingdom and take back his people’s homes. But he can’t do it alone.” She paused, surveying them. “He needs allies. He needsus.”
