“They’re probably dead by now. Or if not now, then soon.” Bermin drained his glass. “No supplies, no camels, no water. They’ve not got a goddamned chance.”
Zarrah’s stomach hollowed, grief making her body ache, and she set her glass down with a heavy clink. What had gone so horribly wrong that they’d been pushed into the Red Desert? What had happened to Keris’s other sisters? To the Ithicanians who’d been part of the rescue?
“You grieve for them?”
“Yes.” She pressed her hand to her heart to honor them. “Aren is a good man. An honorable one, for all he’s made mistakes. He helped me when he didn’t have to.” And not to save himself, but to save his people. Her eyes stung, and she squeezed them shut. “I wish I could have done more.”
Across from her, Bermin shifted in his chair, and she felt his discomfort. Knew it was because he hated displays of emotion that he didn’t share. So it was no shock when he said, “You should rest, cousin. I’ll have your things brought to you.”
“Thank you.” She rose. “I’ll make arrangements to depart for Pyrinat as soon as I can find a ship sailing south.”
“Let me know if I can assist.”
He led her to the door, giving the order to a waiting servant to see her to a room and for her things to be brought to her. Zarrah silently followed the servant to the quarters, her packed clothing and personal belongings arriving while she was in the bath.
Dressing in her uniform, Zarrah strapped her weapons on and ensured her cousin’s letter was safely stowed in her pocket before leaving word she was going to speak with ship captains about passage.
Valcotta had control of the Nerastis port, and the docks were currently full of merchant vessels loading and unloading cargo, with well-armed naval vessels anchored in the harbor, watchful for any sign of a Maridrinian attack. But Zarrah ignored the military ships, instead eyeing merchant vessels being loaded with grains harvested from the fertile fields south of the city. Not just any ship would do. She needed one capable of weathering the Tempest Seas—and one with a captain with the balls to do so. Spotting a familiar vessel, she approached, the sailors stopping what they were doing when one of them recognized her.
“I’d like to speak to your captain,” she said, and was swiftly escorted to his quarters.
“General!” The captain clambered to his feet, eyes wide as he pressed his hand to his heart. “We’d heard of your escape with Ithicana’s king, but not that you’d returned to Nerastis. It is a relief to see you alive.”
Zarrah didn’t correct the use of what was now Bermin’s title, only inclined her head. “It feels good to be back on Valcottan soil.” When he motioned to the chair across the desk, she sat. “You’re loading a cargo of grain, yes? Destined for Pyrinat, I assume?”
He nodded. “We’d be happy to provide passage south, if that is your desire. I’ll provide you my own cabins for the honor.”
She gave him a smile. “Thank you for your generosity, but while it is my intent to travel south, any ship might provide me passage. The favor I require is for a captain who is experienced in more… dangerous waters. And one who can ensure the discretion of his crew.”
Which, given this man used to be a smuggler, he most definitely could do.
The captain’s eyebrows rose, and he rubbed his grizzled chin. “I might be interested.”
Drawing a map on his desk in front of her, Zarrah tapped Eranahl island. “I want you to drop your cargo here.”
He snorted. “Eranahl is blockaded by the Amaridians, and anyone who approaches will be welcomed by the Ithicanians’ shipbreakers. With respect, no amount of compensation is worth my life, General.”
“Not at Eranahl itself,” she said. “But on neighboring islands in close proximity to it. The only requirement is that you not be seen by the Amaridians and that the cargo be stored safely enough to weather any storms.”
The captain leaned back in his chair, brown eyes shrewd. “This is a return of favor to Aren Kertell for your liberty, yes?”
She gave a slight nod.
He made a humming noise. “It is good you wish to honor your agreement, my lady, but this runs counter to the Empress’s proclamations. Aren Kertell spit on her friendship, and Ithicana is paying the price of that choice. To do this, however much I might wish otherwise, runs counter to that.”
My lady. It was a struggle not to grind her teeth, for she’d gone only by military titles for all her adult life. He knew she had no power to sieze a cargo.
Fortunately, Bermin did. And it seemed some of Keris’s ways of getting things done had worn off on her.
Extracting her cousin’s guarantee, she slid it across the desk, watching as the captain eyed the signature and seal. “Shall we get to the matter of compensation?”
They haggled for the next hour, then landed on an amount that made Zarrah wince, for the accounts she listed the funds to be drawn from were her own. While she was an heiress in her own right, possessing many estates that provided her a rich income, a cargo full of grain was still expensive. They toasted the agreement with wine, then clasped hands, and Zarrah departed in search of passage to Pyrinat.
Walking down the gangplank, her eyes went again to Keris’s palace, gleaming in the distance. He knows what he’s doing, she told herself, but it did nothing to temper the unease in her stomach. For his entire life, he’d resisted learning to fight or having any part of the Maridrinian military, and much of the reason for that choice was his fear of becoming like his father. Yet now he was embracing the role, and though she knew it was an act born of necessity, she also knew that if you played a character for long enough, you risked becoming them.
I could go to the dam tonight, she thought to herself. There was no guarantee he’d be there, but on the chance he might… She could caution him not to take things too far, lest he do something he regret. And…
Her stomach tightened at what else they might do other than talk, the memory of his hands on her body making her skin flush, his voice echoing in her ears… I love you.
Would being in his arms one last time be such a crime? Tomorrow she’d set sail, and all chance to see him would be lost, and there might never be another again.
A booming voice calling her name caught her attention, and Zarrah looked up to see Bermin coming down the docks toward her. “Before you depart,” he said, “I’ve news you might be interested in hearing.”
“Oh?”
“We just received a report of eighteen casualties in Jerin Oasis, most of them Maridrinian. The messenger said it started with some Maridrinian tart getting caught thieving, so they threw her in the stocks to crisp in the sun,” her cousin said. “Then a man—a big Harendellian merchant who went by the name of James—poisoned all the patrons at a bar as a distraction while he rescued her before slaughtering a caravan of men to take their camels and supplies before escaping south. Only survivor was a boy, who said the man called the Maridrinian woman his wife.”