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“We protect them by demonstrating to Valcotta that there are consequences to attacking,” Otis answered. “It’s how it’s done.”
“How it’s done,” Keris repeated. “Yet year after year, hundreds of farmers and their families die beneath Valcottan blades, which suggests the strategy is not particularly effective. Perhaps it’s time to try something different.”
“With respect, Your Highness,” one of the men said, “it might be better to leave military strategy to those with training and experience, especially given you’ve made it clear to us that you have no interest in involving yourself.”
Retorts rose and fell, but none reached Keris’s tongue, because he wasn’t entirely sure what he wished to accomplish other than to put an end to raiding, which wasn’t within his power. The men took his silence as agreement and returned to their debates over when and how to raid, drawing maps in front of them.
They wouldn’t hear anything he said because theywantedto raid. Wanted to leave death and destruction in their wake. For all they claimed to be acting in the interests of those they were supposed to protect, it wasn’t the truth. They were killers.
Keris stared into his glass, some trick of the light making the wine look like blood. His stomach twisted, bile burning in his throat.
You’re a killer, too.
On the ride back to Nerastis, Otis had filled his ears with platitudes. That Keris had had no choice but to kill the man. That if he hadn’t, he’d have been the one who wound up dead. And when none of that worked, that the Valcottan would’ve slaughtered the woman and her children. “You saved their lives,” Otis had repeated over and over. “You’re a hero.”
He was no one’s hero.
“It had to have been Zarrah Anaphora,” Otis said, drawing Keris’s attention back to the conversation. “There’s no one else in Nerastis with the authority to override Prince Bermin’s commands.”
Keris glanced at his brother. “There was a woman there?”
“She arrived at the head of another force while you were in the farmhouse,” Otis answered. “Likely as reinforcement, but the little chit turned coward at the sound of the patrol horns and called the retreat. Ran off with her tail between her legs.”
“Was she the only woman?” Unease rose in his chest. “Or were there others?”
“There were several women in her company.” His face was filled with disgust. “All of them dressed like men.”
“Repugnant practice,” one of the generals muttered, another pounding his fist against the table, declaring, “It’s unnatural.”
Keris was tempted to point out that Maridrina’s most recent victory against Ithicana was the result of a woman’s strategy but instead rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I find this conversation tremendously tedious.”
As he strode from the room, he heard Otis giving the other men final instructions for the raid, but then the sound of boots followed him, and a second later, his brother slung an arm around his shoulders. “I know it doesn’t feel this way, Keris, but what happened today was a good thing. You rode into battle and took down Bermin Anaphora, for fuck’s sake. The Empress’s son and one of the most formidable fighters in Nerastis—you! If you’d change your mind and allow me to share that information, the men in that room would revise their opinion of you.”
Keris struggled not to cast his eyes skyward, uninterested in being in the good graces of those idiots. “No.”
“At least in the report we send Father—”
“I’d prefer you refrained from mentioning my involvement.” Their father would be pleased, yes, but not out of pride. It would be because he’d see it as a victory against Keris in their endless battle of ideology.
Otis was silent, then muttered, “He’ll find out, regardless. Nerastis is full of the Magpie’s spies, and if I exclude that you were with me, he’ll know it was because you asked me to, which will be worse.”
Keris’s jaw clenched, knowing his brother was right and hating it. “Fine. Say I was there, but nothing else.”
“Let’s not dwell on that which cannot be changed.” Otis pulled him closer, then gave him a shove forward, making Keris stagger. “Let’s go find some entertainment in the city. A pretty girl to soothe your battered morals. I’ll arrange an escort.”
Keris opened his mouth to argue that he was in no mood for entertainment, but then shut it again. Escaping the palace right now would be impossible, but escaping a brothel… Keris forced a smile onto his face. “Lead the way.”
Both of themkept their hoods up, though the dozen guards Otis had handpicked for their escort likely gave away their identities. Even so, Keris was happy enough to keep his face relatively unknown to the people of Nerastis, anonymity key to his ability to blend in among them.
They entered the brothel, the main level having been cleared of other guests so that the royals could have their pick of the girls. Spotting Aileena, Keris nodded at her. To her credit, the only surprise she showed was a slight raising of her eyebrows before she dropped into a deep curtsey and led him toward the stairs.
The air was heavy with scented oil and perfume, all to hide the smell of sweat and sex that permeated the popular establishment. The dim light provided by lamps fixed to the walls every dozen feet gleamed through glass of Valcottan make.
“I must say, this is an unexpected privilege,” Aileena murmured. “I had believed I displeased you during our last encounter.”
“The only one who did anything displeasing was me.” Keris shook his head when she opened the door to a room facing the street. “A quieter room, if you would.”
Shrugging one graceful shoulder, Aileena opened the door on the opposite side, revealing a room dominated by a large bed made up in lavender silk, the drapes a deeper shade of purple shot with silver thread. He smirked. “I thought you didn’t entertain Valcottans.”
