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She nodded. “Except that when I do, I fear there will be no place for her in Nerastis. Or anywhere in Valcotta.”
That had always been the way he’d felt. As though his true self was so at odds with the man his father—and all of Maridrina—wanted him to be that it would be impossible for him to survive unless he escaped. That was why he’d been so desperate to flee to Harendell. Except his cowardice had consequences, his selfishness used as the linchpin in Lara’s and his father’s plans to invade Ithicana. And while he’d not caused the Endless War between Maridrina and Valcotta, in refusing to use his own power to try to mitigate the harm it caused his people, was he not complicit?
If you truly believe in something, you should be willing to suffer for it. To die for it…
“There will be a retaliation for the raid today,” Keris said softly. “One of some significance.”
She tensed, then shifted closer to him as though they were coconspirators in danger of being overheard. “When? Where?”
“Telling you that would make me a traitor to my nation.”
Valcotta was quiet, then she said, “A traitor to your king. And to the princelings and their sycophants in that domed palace. But not a traitor to your people—not a traitor to the innocents who have no say in this war and yet give their lives in payment for the actions of those who do.”
Keris felt what she was saying to his core, and yet if he did this, his soldiers would die where otherwise they would not.
As if hearing his thoughts, she said, “The soldiers in your barracks chose this life. Are paid handsomely for it. And what’s more, Silas Veliant and his ingrate sons care a great deal more for the loss of a soldier’s life than they do a farmer’s. Lose enough of them, and they might cease with the raids for the sake of keeping their hold on Ithicana. And…” She hesitated. “I think for my Empress, if she lost the need to retaliate, it would be the same.”
Keris wondered what Valcotta would think if she knew he was one of those ingrate sons. Not just a princeling living in the domed palace, buttheprinceling.
“We can’t stop this war,” she said. “But perhaps we could change the nature of it.”
The spark she’d lit in his mind was a spark no longer, but a flame, and it illuminated a far different future for himself than he ever imagined. “Can I trust you, Valcotta?”
She leaned toward him, her cheek brushing against his jaw, the sensation sending a rush of desire through him. Her breath was hot against his ear as she whispered, “I think we both know that the question is whether I should trust you.”
He huffed out a breath, not entirely certain whether it was his head, his heart, or his cock that was making this decision. Only that he was making it. “Have you enough authority to influence strategy?”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Do you have enough importance to know anything worth influencing strategy over?”
He laughed softly. “I do.”
But it was there his words stalled. She was an officer in the Valcottan army. A sworn enemy of his people. And this was treason of the highest order. But if he did nothing… “In four days, when the moon has waned enough to attack by sea under the cover of darkness, they will come. And we’ve spies in your garrison, so ensure you keep this information close until the final hour.”
Silence stretched between them, the tension so thick he could hardly breathe, then she whispered, “Who are you?”
There was a part of him that wanted to answer. A part of him that believed the path they were walking down demanded there be no lies between them. Except his identity, hisname, was a curse, for it tied him to his father. And the revelation of it might well burn this moment to the ground. “One step at a time, Valcotta. I’ve already bared my throat enough tonight.”
Instead of answering, she reached up, hand closing over his throat. “If you are lying to me, I’ll slit your jugular. You know that, yes?”
Keris’s heart hammered in his chest, fueled by fear and desire and anticipation, but more than that, by the sensation of being morealivethan he’d ever been. He could hear the rapidness of her breathing, feel the heat of it against his face, and God help him, but he wanted her. Except he knew it would be on her terms or not at all, and he wasn’t willing to jeopardize this fragile trust between them, on which so much depended, by allowing his cock to make stupid decisions. “On my honor, those are the plans as they stand tonight. I heard them with my own ears.”
Her hand didn’t move from his throat, only tightened, her nails digging into his skin. He stared down at her, watching her lips part, watching as who she was warred with who she wanted to be. And though logic told him that he should be glad when the latter won and she lowered her hand to her side, he had to fight the urge to provoke its return.
Pulling away before his body could betray him, Keris rose to his feet. But before he jumped back across the spillway, he turned. “When will I see you again, Valcotta?”
She smiled, her teeth bright in the moonlight. “When I find out if your word is good, Maridrina.” And then she disappeared into the night.
22
ZARRAH
Four days after meeting with the Maridrinian, Zarrah crouched behind some rocks and brush overlooking one of the handful of inlets south of Nerastis’s port. On her left, Yrina watched the dark seas intently for any sign of motion, and on her right, Bermin glowered.
“Mistake to pull our eastern patrols.” His voice was a raspy whisper and would be for some time, courtesy of the blow he’d taken during the raid. That his throat hadn’t been crushed beyond repair was likely only because her cousin had a neck like a tree trunk. “If they hit one of the villages, we could have dozens of casualties in a single night with us none the wiser. This is folly.”
It was an enormous risk; Zarrah knew that. But some risks were worth the reward, and though logic said otherwise, she trusted the Maridrinian’s intent. It was impossible not to when she’d seen the naked grief on his face for those Bermin and his soldiers had slaughtered. Grief that she knew in her heart wasn’t feigned. He wanted to see an end to the raids and was willing to risk his own life by committing treason to do it.
Except for this to work, she ultimately needed to be willing to do the same. Willing to put her soldiers, many of whom were friends, at risk by betraying their raiding plans. Yet if the raids could be stymied, how many innocent lives would be saved?
