“Yes,” came a soft whisper.
Going to the window at the back of the cabin, which held a stained-glass panel depicting flowers and greenery, Keris stared out the clear pane in the center. The ship bobbed, the faint sound of sailors shouting filtering through the walls, and then the vessel drifted away from the dock. He gripped the edge of the window frame, watching the rough buildings of the harbor, faintly lit by the dawn sun, grow smaller and smaller as they picked up speed. Then the breakwater, the opening flanked by two towers, appeared. A few minutes later, the deck tilted as the sails caught the heavy wind that tore around the point, the ship bucking and plunging on the rough surf. The vessel headed farther out to sea, then shifted direction, heading south along Maridrina’s coast.
Keris exhaled, finally allowing his shoulders to slump, adrenaline fading and leaving exhaustion in its wake. Valcotta was free.
69
ZARRAH
There wasn’t enough air to breathe, and what there was of it reeked of corpse.
Zarrah pressed her face to the tiny air hole, sucking in breath after breath, but it felt as though a band of steel was tightening around her chest, slowly suffocating her. The body shoved in next to her grew stiffer by the second, though at least it had finally stopped its twitching.
Let me out, she silently pleaded. Please let me out.
Only her pride kept her from screaming the words aloud.
Then the scent of Keris’s cologne filled her nose, spicy and familiar and comforting. “We’re at sea. I’m going to get you out now.”
Relief tempered her rising panic, but Zarrah’s heart didn’t ease its gallop until he’d pulled out the layer of books, the volumes thumping against the floor like he was throwing them. Until he’d pulled up the false bottom, letting in a rush of air. Until he was hauling her out of the trunk and wrapping her in his arms.
Zarrah’s muscles screamed as her body unfolded, her legs shuddering as she forced them to straighten, but she didn’t care.
She was free.
“Look,” he whispered in her ear, half carrying her to the window. “That’s Vencia in our wake.”
The hill holding the city rose above the wall of the breakwater, the palace that had been her prison sitting atop, the bronze dome of Silas’s tower glinting in the dawn light. To be free of it seemed impossible, and part of her feared she’d awake to find herself back in her tiny room in the harem’s house, her escape only a dream.
“Are you all right?”
She tore her gaze from the city to look at Keris and found herself once again short of breath. Lifting her hand, she tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear, wondering how his eyes had ever inspired her hate. Wondering how she’d ever compared them to his father’s, for beyond the color, they were nothing alike. “Yes. Other than the fact I stink like corpse and have needed to piss for hours.”
He winced. “I’m sorry. I wish there’d been another way.”
“It was my idea, Keris,” she reminded him; then they both turned to stare at the body stuffed into the trunk, limbs bent at awkward angles from Keris forcing the man to fit. “Let’s dump him while it’s still dark.”
Working together, they hauled the man out of the trunk and over to the window. Zarrah opened it, air that smelled of brine and storm rushing over her, lightning crackling to the north over Ithicana. The ship rose over a large wave, then plummeted down, spray rising to mist her hair. More than enough noise to cover the sound of a body splashing into the water.
“Ready?” she whispered as the ship rose another wave. “Now!”
They heaved the man out the window, watching him strike the water right as the ship hit the dip between waves. The corpse disappeared beneath the foam.
“Serin will suspect.” Keris leaned on the windowsill, the muscles in his forearms bunching. “There’s no way around that.”
“He’s suspected for a long time but not had the proof he needed to convince your father.” She hesitated, then added, “I overheard them that night in the tower. Your father… he’s protecting you.”
“I don’t believe that. My father hates me.”
Was it better that he continue to believe that? Better for her to stop this conversation in its tracks than to open old wounds? It was tempting, but Keris had kept hard truths from her out of the desire to protect her. Truths that had subsequently been delivered to her by others with hate in their hearts. Truths that she’d rather have heard from him. “I don’t think he does. I think you frustrate him and piss him off, but… but you’re the only person who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, and he respects that.”
“That’s bullshit.” He scowled at the water. “I’m fucking terrified of him. Always have been.”
“But you still don’t bend to him.” She bit her bottom lip. “He believes you’re suppressing your true nature, but that there will come a point you’ll embrace it. That you’ll live up to your name and be the heir he wants you to be. That’s why he’s protecting you.”
Keris rounded on her, eyes full of anger as he snarled, “I will never be like him. I’ll put a knife in my own goddamned heart before I’ll ever live up to his expectations.”
A flicker of unease ran through Zarrah. Not because she believed Keris anything like his father, but because she sensed a thread of darkness ran through him. An inky stream that, if ever allowed to swell, might turn him into something far worse than Silas. Keris pressed his fingers to his temples, voice exhausted as he said, “I’m sorry. I can’t… I don’t want to talk about my family right now. For a moment, I just need to feel far away from them.”
Her chest tightened. This wasn’t how she imagined her first breaths of freedom would be while trapped in that cursed trunk with a corpse. In her mind’s eye, she’d seen herself in his arms. Felt his mouth pressed against hers, his hands on her body. Wanted to lose herself in him in a way that had been so long denied.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and Zarrah brushed it away angrily. She used the facilities before retrieving a pitcher of water to scrub away smeared cosmetics, blood, and sweat from her body, the mirror revealing a bruised and swollen cheek where Silas had struck her. Her body also bore scrapes and bruises from the battle. From her fight with Serin’s lackey. All evidence of what she’d endured to get here, yet the pain of them was nothing compared to that in her heart.