She flinched, and guilt flooded him. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole to have said that.”
Zarrah only shook her head. “You’re not wrong. They would. But this decision… it’s not about honoring them—it’s about honoring myself. I…” She looked away, seeming to hunt for the words she needed. “I need to do things that I believe are right. So I can be proud of who I am and what I’ve done, because there is much I’ve done that I feel ashamed of.” Her eyes jerked back to his. “I don’t mean you. I could never regret you.”
Keris found himself wondering if that was entirely true. Or if it was, whether it would remain true.
“I need to consider the costs of my actions before I make a choice that I cannot undo.” She curved her small hand around his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin. “If you truly love me, then you’ll give me the opportunity to think.”
His chest hollowed, because he knew her. Knew the woman she had been and the woman she’d become. Knew what the choice would be. “Whatever you decide, I’ll still love you. And wherever you go, if you decide to turn back, I’ll be there.”
Her eyes gleamed bright, then two tears dripped down her cheeks to splatter against his chest. “Just give me time to think, Keris.”
Then she was kissing him, her tongue in his mouth as she caught hold of his cock, his body caring little for his fractured heart as she stroked him. He turned his face away from hers, feeling strangled, though he managed to say, “This isn’t allowing you to think, Zarrah.”
“No.” She lowered herself onto him, her back arching, breasts illuminated by the rays of the sun. “But it is allowing me to dream.”
71
ZARRAH
The merchant vessel stopped in nearly every port between Vencia and Nerastis to drop off and pick up passengers, more than tripling the time the journey typically would take. Yet Zarrah would have dragged it out longer if such a thing were possible, for the weeks were the most pleasurable of her life.
Zarrah, by necessity, remained closeted in the stateroom, but Keris rarely left her side unless it was absolutely necessary. He ordered food and wine brought to the room, and she was delighted to discover that absent Silas’s taste for excessive salt, Maridrinian food was very good. And their wine even better, Keris sparing no expense, much to the ship captain’s obvious delight. He read to her from the books he’d brought to disguise her escape, tomes on every different topic, even the driest subject made fascinating by his velvet voice, and she’d rest her head in his lap, listening for hours. He obliged her with stories of his past, though he steered clear of his father. Of Otis. And of Coralyn. Though she was desperate to know what the old woman had said to him prior to her death, Zarrah knew better than to press when the pain was so fresh. So instead she reciprocated, telling him of her childhood in Pyrinat. Of her mother and cousins and what it was like to grow up in the lap of Valcottan privilege. She told him of her training after her mother’s murder, of the endless, endless hours of sparring and lessons. How she’d relished growing strong and capable even as she lost parts of her character that her mother had nurtured so carefully. And when he asked whether she’d done anything fun, she told him of the mischiefs Yrina had gotten her into, especially when they’d come of age. He held her when the pain of her friend’s loss welled fresh, allowing her to sob against his chest until the waves lulled her to sleep.
And they made love.
Endless, endless, pleasure that went beyond what she’d dreamed possible. Sometimes sweet and tender, his caresses coaxing climaxes from her body that rolled through her and made her see stars. Sometimes desperate and savage, his cock hammering into her while she clawed at him, needing more, needing him deeper, the explosion of her climax leaving her breathless and exhausted. He was endlessly creative, and as her inhibitions vanished, she unleashed her own wicked desires, little delighting her more than watching him lose control of himself, her name always what was on his lips.
Both of them knew what they were doing. Trying to force a lifetime into one ship voyage, because it was all they could ever have.
It had been a lie when she’d said she’d needed time to think. She’d only needed time to find the courage to voice the truth. The truth that would shatter her heart in a way she’d never recover from, but the truth nonetheless.
Zarrah had to go back to Pyrinat.
Her time in Vencia had cleared the smoke in her mind surrounding her aunt and caused her to see clearly. The Empress didn’t want the Endless War between Maridrina and Valcotta to ever cease, perhaps even wanted to escalate it in pursuit of retaking Nerastis. Whether it was fanaticism or anger or pride, Zarrah wasn’t certain, only that her aunt was not acting for the good of Valcotta.
Zarrah was the only person in a position to tell her so. The only person capable of tempering her aunt’s desire for war. And, if fates aligned, the only person in line for the throne who would ascend it with the desire to pursue peace.
To walk away now, no matter how much her heart wanted to, would be condemning her people to fight and suffer and die in a war that did nothing but appease the Empress’s pride. Zarrah knew she couldn’t live with herself, knowing that she’d had a chance to make a difference for tens of thousands of Valcottans and instead had chosen herself.
Not that she believed it would come effortlessly.
The Empress would not be easily swayed, and with Silas on the throne, peace couldn’t be had. But if Keris remained in Maridrina, if he ascended either by inheriting or by some scheme, then it would be possible. Which meant tens of thousands of Maridrinian lives improved if only the pair of them stayed the course.
If only they sacrificed each other.
Zarrah sat with her legs crossed on the bed, watching Keris, who sat at the open window, her pulse racing and her palms slick.
Their time together was over.
Though the window only revealed a night sky filled with countless stars, Zarrah knew they passed familiar landscape. Knew that, if she stood on the deck of the ship, she’d see the lights of Nerastis glowing in the distance.
Tell him, she silently ordered herself. What are you waiting for?
But it felt like her throat had closed up, her breath coming too fast and beads of sweat rolling down her back, though the night air was cool. Zarrah opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue was thick, and all she did was swallow his name, unable to give it voice. She knew why she was hesitating—it was because the longer she waited, the more opportunity he’d have to convince her to change her mind. To run away with him.
To be happy.