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“That’s half your problem. You’d enjoy life a great deal more with a man dedicated to your pleasure.” Yrina swatted Zarrah across the ass, finally luring her out from under the pillow if only to scowl at her friend’s departing back.
Thelastthing she needed was the distraction of a lover. Over the years, she’d taken a handful of men into her bed for a night or two, but she’d always been careful to keep it to that, knowing that hers would be a carefully selected political union, not a love match. A consort from a powerful Valcottan family, the union bringing strength to the crown. And in recent months—years, if she was being honest—she’d not brought any men to her bed at all, for they weren’t a distraction she could afford.
Exhausted as she was, the sun was already glowing through the stained-glass windows of her room, sending spirals of color across the white silk of her sheets. Past time for her to have been up and completing her exercises, which meant sleep wasn’t an option.
What she needed was a cold shower to slap some alertness into her.
Limping to the adjoining chamber, Zarrah unfastened the buckles of her leather corselet and discarded it on the floor, followed by the silk camisole that was still glued to her skin from sweat.
Her fingers ached as she unfastened her belt, but as she tugged down her trousers, she heard the distinct sound of crinkling paper.
Frowning, Zarrah reached into the deep pocket and withdrew a folded letter, her heartbeat accelerating as she slowly unfolded it. Perhaps her efforts had netted her something worthwhile after all.
Unfolding the letter, she read.Dearest O, every minute we are apart feels like an eternity…
What in the name of God had she stolen?
Starting over, Zarrah read the letter once, then again, searching the overly poetic piece of nonsense written by a woman named Tasha for any sign of a code, but there was none. Nothing that was even the slightest bit useful.
She’d risked life and limb to steal that bastard’slove letters.
But that wasn’t what set her heart to racing, her stomach threatening to empty its contents onto the glass-tiled floor. No, the worst of it was, she’d promised to give the letters back. All of them.
And a Valcottan always kept her word.
Her day did not improve.
The Maridrinians raided not an hour after she returned—likely in retaliation for what they perceived as an assault on their palace. They attacked one of her patrols, the battle short yet fevered, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides, and each time she spoke words over one of the fallen, her guilt pooled higher in her guts until Zarrah was certain she might drown in it.
Dead because of her actions. Actions that had netted hernothingbut shame for undertaking such an ill-considered escapade in the first place.
And now, with full dark having fallen over Nerastis, she had to go back across the Anriot to return a stupid love letter.
The roar of falling water intensified as she approached the dam, the moon her only source of light as she stepped onto the top of it, heading slowly toward the gap in the middle, where she stopped at the edge.
Water surged through the spillway, the flow black and ominous, and fear prickled up her spine. Without the adrenaline of the chase, it seemed madness to try to leap the gap, but she had little choice. Honor demanded she return the letter, no matter that it was nothing more than flowery drivel, and there was no other way to get across that didn’t risk her being caught, as the bridges were being watched.
“You can do this,” she muttered, readjusting the new staff strapped to her back. “Jump over. Return the letter. Jump back.” And then she could shove this particular embarrassment to the bottom of her mind, never to be thought of again.
Or so she hoped.
Taking a deep breath, Zarrah retreated down the top of the dam, taking careful strides so that she’d hit the edge just right when she sprinted back. Turning to face the gap, she voiced a silent prayer, then broke into a run.
Wind tore at her hair as she rounded the dam, her pulse rivaling the waterfall in intensity.
You can do this.
Her boots pounded against the stone, drawing her closer and closer. She gathered herself, readying to leap.
Then skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over the edge as her nerves betrayed her.
“You’re a bloody coward!” She twisted on her heel, intending to try again, when a laugh caught her attention.
Her eyes jerked across the spillway, landing on a dark figure standing on the edge, moonlight turning his blond hair to silver.
“Don’t give yourself such a hard time, Valcotta.” His tone was amused. “Not everyone has the nerve for such a leap.”
She scowled at him, but there wasn’t much she could say.
