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But all he could think of was apologizing to her. Of explaining that there had been no choice, or at least, no better choice. Of begging for her forgiveness.
Rising to his feet, Keris walked toward the base of the harem’s building, ignoring the sheets of rain slapping him across the face as he reached down to grab a handful of pebbles.
But his nerve failed him.
Swearing softly, he sat against the wall of the building, staring upward. “She deserves the truth,” he muttered as thunder rolled, the rain like icy pellets striking his skin. “Don’t be a coward.”
Find another way.
His eyes went to the corpses of the Ithicanians swaying in the wind, his stomach contents rising as he wondered what had been done with Yrina’s body. It was more of the same—people who’d been willing to die to rescue the person they cared for. But unlike Valcotta, Ithicana showed no sign of giving up hope. They kept coming, despite knowing they’d most likely die.
What would happen if they had help on the inside?
The thought struck him like a punch to the stomach, and Keris straightened.
The Ithicanians were working blind, none of them familiar with the interior of the palace or where Aren was being kept, which meant they were destined to fail. But what if they were given the information they needed? What ifhehelped them orchestrate an escape for Aren?
And what if Aren took Valcotta with him?
A thrill of excitement raced through his veins, even as the countless obstacles to such a plan shouted that it was impossible.
He had no way to get in contact with the Ithicanians, especially given that Serin would have him followed every time he left the palace. And even if he somehow managed it, the Ithicanians had no reason to listen to him. Would probably slit his throat and toss him into the sea for his trouble.
Unless their king ordered them not to.
Wheels turned in his head, pushing aside the haze of wine as Keris considered how to make such a thing happen. And then it struck him.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Scrambling to his feet, Keris climbed out of the foliage and strode down a path, once again steady on his feet. Ignoring the protests of the guards at the harem’s quarters, he went inside, rising the stairs two at a time. The guard at the top said, “Highness, with respect, it is after curfew—”
Keris pushed past him. “How the hours fly.” His boots squelching, he strode down the corridor, opening the door to Coralyn’s rooms and navigating the dark room to reach her bedchamber.
A lamp burned low on a table, revealing his aunt sound asleep among piles of silken cushions. “Auntie?”
She jerked upright, blinking at him. “Keris?” Then her face hardened. “Have you lost your bloody mind, boy? You cannot be in the harem after curfew—your father will think you are carrying on with one of the women and have your head.”
“I’m too drunk to fuck, but thankfully not so drunk I can’t think. I’ve had an idea.”
“Foul-mouthed child!” She swung her legs out of the bed, reaching for a dressing gown. “What is it that you want?”
“This isn’t about what I want.” He dropped onto a chaise. “It’s about what you want.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh?”
“You want to know what Aren knows about my sister and her whereabouts.”
“Sisters.”
“Yes, yes.” He waved a hand at her to sit. “But he’s no reason to give us anything, much less information about the wife he foolishly still loves.”
“Keris…”
He ignored the warning in her tone. “So you will have to offer him something in exchange.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“An end to his people getting themselves killed trying to rescue him.” Her mouth opened to respond, but Keris kept going. “If you offer to facilitate communication with the Ithicanians ordering them to stand down, I think he’ll give you the information the harem wants.”
