“Yes, Highness.” Philo cast him a sideways glance. “Serin was here in advance of your arrival, though he has since departed. He apprised us of all the developments.”
Of course he did. It was a struggle not to scowl, though the information was not entirely shocking. The merchant vessel he and Zarrah had traveled on had made port in several harbors on its journey south, which meant another ship or even a fast rider would have arrived in Nerastis far in advance of them. For all he didn’t regret a moment he spent with her on that ship, it didn’t mean those moments came without cost. “A long journey for the Magpie to only supply an update.”
“He was in pursuit of Aren Kertell and his… wife.”
Shock rippled through Keris. “In Nerastis?”
“The Red Desert, as the case may be.” Philo led Keris to the war room, closing the door behind them. “They were pursued south and cut off by a force from our garrison, dispatched on Serin’s orders. They fled into the Red Desert and are now presumed dead.”
Given Lara had been raised in the Red Desert, Keris would presume no such thing, but the larger question was why the pair hadn’t gone back to Ithicana. Had they been prevented from reaching the sea, and this was their only avenue of escape?
Or had they gone south with a purpose?
“Keep me apprised of any developments.” Keris’s eyes went to the map of the continent, tracking from Vencia to Nerastis down to Pyrinat. “What of Zarrah Anaphora? Was she with them?” What he really wanted to know was whether the spies had seen her in Nerastis. What he really wanted was news that she was safe.
Philo shook his head. “It was only the pair of them.”
Which meant no news had come of Zarrah’s return.
What if she hadn’t made it to shore? What if she’d drowned? Or been attacked by something in the water? What if she was injured somewhere and in need of help? What if Bermin had taken one look at her and killed her?
Focus.
He turned from the map to face Philo. “I want a total cessation on raids across the border, with all efforts turned to defense. More patrols along the Anriot within the city and as far east as the Red Desert.” The rest of the instructions poured from his lips, ideas he’d had long ago but had never implemented because that would have meant involving himself. Would have meant conceding to his father.
But he needed these men to respect him, so that when the time came, they’d follow him against his father.
Philo stared at Keris like he’d never seen him before, but to his credit, he only nodded. “It will be done, Your Highness.”
Then a knock sounded at the door. A moment later, a soldier stepped in and passed Philo a piece of paper. The captain read it and frowned, then handed it to Keris. “Likely nothing to be concerned about, Your Highness.”
Keris read it and felt his stomach plummet, because Philo couldn’t have been more wrong.
75
ZARRAH
Zarrah read the spy’s report again, then set it down. “It would seem that the princeling shows no interest in lowering his defenses at the border, so perhaps the Empress’s watch-and-wait stance is for the best.” She couldn’t help but wonder how long Keris would be able to maintain this level of militance. How long it would be until Silas was forced to strip the Nerastis garrison in order to continue his fight against the Ithicanians.
A conflict that she was about to extend by delivering on her promise to Aren.
Bermin’s jaw was tight, his eyes again dark. “You aren’t in command anymore, little Zarrah—that is the price of your overambition, and you’d do well not to overstep.”
Ah, Zarrah thought, his unease about her intentions a subtle clue that Zarrah had not entirely fallen from the Empress’s grace. “I’ve no desire to resume command of this garrison. My intent is to return to Pyrinat, and by the Empress’s will, to remain there permanently.”
Silence.
Often, she’d called her cousin stupid, but that wasn’t entirely the case, for he possessed a certain sort of selfish cunning. That cunning was hard at work now, judging the truth of her words. And they were true—Zarrah’s eyes weren’t on the title of general. They were on the Empress’s throne in Pyrinat.
“You’ve changed,” Bermin finally said, and she gave the slightest of nods.
“I had a great deal of time alone to reflect on my choices of the past.” She cleared her throat. “I do need a favor from you, though. I incurred debts in my escape that would be more easily paid while I am in Nerastis, but I will have difficulty accessing my credit, given I’ve little proof of my identity. Would you write something guaranteeing me?”
Bermin huffed out a breath. “You need coin.”
The color that heated her cheeks was no act, and if there’d been a way to avoid this, she would have. But waiting until she could visit the bankers in Pyrinat was not a delay that she could afford, and the scheme she’d planned needed her to be here to enact it. “Yes. And as soon as I’ve paid my debts, I’ll be on a ship south.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He reached for a paper but paused before dipping his pen into the pot of ink. “If it had been my choice, we’d have gone after you, cousin. For all that our relationship has been strained in recent years, you are my blood. And abandoning you cost me honor.”
Zarrah drew in a breath, the sentiment hitting her harder than she expected. “Thank you,” she said, watching as he swiftly wrote a note guaranteeing her, sealing the purple wax with his heavy signet ring before handing the document over. As she was tucking it into a pocket, the food arrived, the servants filling Bermin’s desk with plate after plate. Zarrah dug in, the familiar tastes exquisite on her tongue, her cousin also eating with relish, both of them sipping at sweet wine.
“We heard some details about your escape,” Bermin said between mouthfuls. “Is it true the traitor queen orchestrated it all?”
Zarrah nodded. “She’s a force to be reckoned with, as are her sisters. If Silas allowed women into his armies, I daresay we might be the losers in the encounter.” When her cousin gave an amused snort, she added, “I’m not joking, Bermin. The six of them infiltrated the palace in nothing but dancing costumes, with no weapons, and took down at least two dozen of Silas’s men.”
Bermin blinked, then gave an appreciative nod. “When did you part ways with them?”
“In Vencia.” She sipped her wine. “I expect they’re already back in Ithicana.” A reminder that she needed to honor her debt, not sit here drinking with her cousin.
But Bermin shook his head. “They’re not in Ithicana. And they also haven’t been killed by Silas’s men, despite rumors to the contrary. Last word we received, the Maridrinians were pursuing Aren Kertell and his queen, who were alone, into the Red Desert.”
The wine soured in her mouth. “Pardon?”