You’re a fucking coward, Zarrah, she snarled at herself. Just do it.
Then Keris turned away from the dark sky to face her, silently meeting her gaze. He’d dressed as the prince, freshly shaven, hair loose to his shoulders, the coat he wore royal blue and embroidered with gold, boots polished until they gleamed. With the starlight glowing behind him, he was impossibly handsome—like the prince out of a fable, but that wasn’t what she saw. It was the question in his eyes.
“I have to go back.” The words tore from her lips, and she immediately wanted to take them back as he tensed, suddenly looking anywhere but at her. Why hadn’t she phrased it differently? Why hadn’t she started with an explanation? Why—
“I know you do.”
There was understanding in his voice, not anger, but she still found herself rushing to explain. “I promised Aren to help Ithicana. And I need to attempt to soften my aunt’s stance on the war. Need to convince her of the merits of peace. Need to keep my position as her heir so that when you take the crown, we can end this.”
His jaw flexed on the last, and her chest tightened. “I wish there was a way, Keris. A way I could be with you and still do what my conscience demands, but there isn’t. And I hate it. I want to scream and rage and cry because it isn’t fair.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Silence.
Vaguely, Zarrah was aware of the sounds of the sailors moving about the decks, muffled shouts of preparation, the rattle of the anchor as it lowered into the depths. But still, Keris didn’t answer. Didn’t move from where he stood, didn’t lift his eyes from the floor.
“Please say you understand.” The words croaked from her lips, fear rising in her chest to the point she felt sick. “Please say you don’t hate me for doing this.”
His face snapped up, and in two strides, Keris closed the distance between them, wrapping her in his arms. “I wish I could hate you,” he said into her hair. “Because then I could watch you walk away and not feel like… like…” She felt him shake his head. “If there are words for how I feel about you, I’ve never heard them. Never seen them written in any of the thousands of books I’ve read.”
With her head pressed against his chest, the sound of his hammering heart filled her ears, mirroring her own, and Zarrah’s grip on his coat tightened even as her resolve faltered. I can’t lose you I can’t lose you I can’t lose you her aching heart screamed into her thoughts, and she clenched her teeth to keep from sobbing them aloud.
“I knew you’d never say yes. Knew that you’d never agree to running away when so much rode on your return. That your conscience would never allow it. And as much as I hate that, it’s also one of the reasons I love you. If you’d said yes, it would have made you like me. And I could never love someone like me.”
Her heart shattered, and Zarrah lifted her face, the words that had long been in her heart rising. But Keris pressed a finger to her lips, whispering, “Don’t. It’s already hard enough not to fight for you, and if you say it, my selfishness will win.”
The last thing he was was selfish. “Keris—”
“If you’re going to go, it needs to be now.” He twisted her in his grip, walking her to the open window. “Dawn will come soon, and you need to get into Valcottan waters before then.”
“How—”
He picked up the stoppered ale cask she’d had him request days ago, though most of the contents had been poured out the window. “I knew you had no intention of getting back inside that trunk, Zarrah.” He wrapped a belt around the cask, fastening it tight before pushing it into her hands.
The ship bobbed up and down, the sailors loud in their preparations, and in the distance, she could hear the sound of a Maridrinian naval vessel approaching to watch over the process of unloading the royal cargo.
This was it. The moment she’d dreaded for the entire voyage, but nothing could have prepared her for how horrible it would feel. Like the breath was being squeezed from her chest, every part of her in pain, most especially her heart.
And yet she wanted to draw it out. Wanted to cling to him for as long as possible to delay that final slice of pain.
“Zarrah…”
Sucking in a gasping mouthful of air, she kissed him fiercely, then climbed onto the windowsill, the water splashing loudly against the hull below. Keris caught hold of her hand, then braced himself against the frame. “Be careful.” She knew it wasn’t the water he feared.
She gave him a tight nod, then allowed him to lower her down until his face was lost to the dim light, their locked hands their only connection. The memory of that first night on the dam filled her mind’s eye, Keris’s grip on her the only thing keeping her from plunging to certain death. Then, he’d been her enemy, but now… “I love you,” she said. “I will always love you.”
Then she let go.
72
KERIS
I love you.
Keris clenched his teeth, his hands screaming with the force with which he gripped the window frame, it taking every bit of his self-control not to jump in the water and follow her to shore.
“You have to let her go,” he told himself, the pain in his chest excruciating. “You have to respect her choice.”
And he did. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Zarrah deserved better, deserved to be treated like a queen, not to sacrifice herself for the sake of those who’d never thank her for it. Who’d never know what she’d given up for them.
A loud knock sounded on the door. Keris jumped, turning away from the window. “Yes?”
“Your Highness, the soldiers comprising your escort have arrived. When you are ready, you may disembark.”
“Thank you,” he forced himself to say. “I’ll be along presently.”
Yet he didn’t move from the window, instead turning to listen for any sound that she’d come back. Any sign that she’d changed her mind. Hating himself for wishing that she would.
But as dawn warmed the sky, he saw nothing but empty waves. Heard nothing but the shouts and curses of sailors and soldiers.
She was gone.
Sucking in a deep breath, he turned from the window, starting toward the door. But then he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the wall. He stared at his reflection for a heartbeat, then twisted toward his packed trunk, casting off his coat as he did. Digging into the depths, he extracted his uniform jacket, which was festooned with markers of rank that he hadn’t earned. He donned it anyway before digging to the bottom and pulling out the sword.
He stared at the weapon, jewels glittering on the pommel and the edge gleaming sharp. A gift from his father, and he hated it. Wanted nothing more than to go to the window and toss it into the waves.
Instead, he belted it around his waist. Zarrah had sacrificed everything in a bid for peace, and that could only be achieved if Maridrina was willing.
Which meant that he needed to bring war upon his father.
And this time, it wouldn’t be fought with words.
73
ZARRAH