Zarrah nodded. “I’ll keep your confidence, as always.”
Her aunt sealed the letter and handed it to her. “Get Aren safely to the north side of Nerastis. His ability to rally Ithicana is critical to my plans—nothing can happen to him. Or to that woman.” A flicker of a smile crossed her face. “Ithicana suffered under Veliant hands. Let them have their own revenge.”
So much hate.
There was no tempering it. No argument that would cause the Empress to see reason. No speech that would make her understand that her actions benefited nothing but her own pride. There was nothing Zarrah could do, especially in the short time that she had, to convince her aunt to change her plans for war with Maridrina.
Which meant the time for words was over.
“I’ll take my leave.” Zarrah pressed a hand to her heart. “I love you, Auntie. I hope you know that.”
“Of course, dearest.” Her aunt had returned to her desk and was staring at a map, eyes distant. “And I, you.”
Hopefully enough to one day forgive me, Zarrah thought, and left the palace. In pursuit of an alliance with Ithicana.
And treason to Valcotta.
77
KERIS
Keris read the page containing his father’s orders, frowned, then tossed it across the table to Philo. He waited for the grey-haired man to read the contents, then asked, “How many men will that leave us with to defend the border?”
“A little more than a hundred.” Philo set down the page. “And only two ships.”
Not nearly enough to defend Nerastis if Bermin made a move, which was a large concern. But what worried Keris more was that by emptying the barracks here, his father would have the ships and men he needed to end the war with Ithicana and kill every last Ithicanian he found alive. His father would be victorious, the master of the bridge, and Keris’s plans to use the dissent of the Maridrinian people to overthrow him would be in shambles, which meant peace with Valcotta would be a distant dream. And knowing how much Zarrah had given up in pursuit of that dream, Keris refused to allow that come to pass.
Ithicana, even with its rulers lost to the Red Desert, needed to endure.
“That is problematic.” Keris rubbed at his temples, his head foggy. His dreams had been plagued with nightmares about Zarrah, and exhaustion weighed upon him. “We risk losing Nerastis.”
Faces darkened, and he dropped his hands, fixing the men with a cool stare. “Am I wrong? Is one of you actually going to sit there and argue that we are capable of repelling the Valcottans should they choose to cross the Anriot?”
They shifted uncomfortably, and Philo finally said, “You aren’t wrong, Your Highness. With such low numbers, if the Valcottans made a move, we’d be forced to retreat.”
“Retreat how far?” Keris asked, despite knowing the answer.
Philo opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, “Unless we received reinforcements, as far as they wished to push us.”
What madness consumed his father that he was willing to take such a loss? Keris wanted to shout, but strategy demanded otherwise. He needed the criticism of his father to come from these men, not from him. “You’re telling me that by sending these resources to my father to use in his fight against Ithicana, we risk losing Nerastis and miles of the best farmland in Maridrina?”
Yes. He could see the answer in their eyes. Yet also that their fear of his father still kept them silent. Capitalize upon this, a voice whispered in his head. Turn them against him. “The Empress is notoriously opportunistic,” he said. “How long can we keep our weakness hidden from them?”
Not long at all was the answer, but he waited for them to discuss it among themselves, Philo finally sighing. “A day, perhaps.”
Keris said nothing, allowing the weight of that fact to sink in.
“The Valcottans haven’t raided in months despite us being undermanned,” one of the other men argued.
“Because we had the Empress’s niece as our prisoner.” Rising to his feet, Keris paced the length of the room. “But Serin’s own creation got the better of him, and we lost that asset.” It made him ill to speak of Zarrah that way, but it was a necessary evil.
“What would you have us do, Highness?” Philo asked. “The order comes from the king himself. We cannot refuse.”
“No, we can’t.” Keris stopped pacing, toying with the pommel of his sword. “And yet if we lose Nerastis for lack of men, it will be we who are held accountable.”
Turning, he pretended to stare at the map on the wall, waiting. As he’d predicted, Philo said, “His Majesty puts us in a position where we are destined to face his ill will regardless of what action we take.”
The other men growled their agreement, and Keris felt their anger growing. Not new anger, for this wouldn’t be the first time his father had put them in such a position, but anger they were only now speaking aloud. He smiled at the map, allowing them to mutter for a moment before turning. “What choice has he? For more than sixteen years, my father schemed to take the bridge, and now he has it. Would you have him give it up for the sake of a city of rubble?”
Eyes darkened at the word schemed. Not at his use of it, but that their king had used lies and subterfuge and his own daughter to win his prize.
“It’s not Nerastis that has value, Highness, but the land north of it. The best land in Maridrina,” Philo answered, not seeming to realize he was parroting Keris’s words back at him. “Already Vencia goes hungry. If we were to lose those farms…”
Keris gave a slow nod. “I expect my father anticipates making up the shortfall through imports via the bridge.”
Imports that would cost a fortune only a landed nobleman could afford, which none of these men were. They were career soldiers, and every last one of them had a family in Vencia that would go hungry if all of this came to pass.
Philo was on his feet in a flash. “Imports that no one can afford! This is madness driven by an excess of pride, Keris. The bridge has been nothing but a curse. Hundreds of lives lost trying to hold it, and for what? The bridge of untold riches has been rendered profitless by the politics between nations and the squabbling of kings and empresses, but it is the common people who starve.” He gave Keris a pleading look. “You understand, don’t you, Highness? You were against the taking of the bridge—that is well known. And it is said you listen to the concerns of the people. Even that you espouse the virtues of peace.”
A flicker of an emotion Keris couldn’t name filled his chest, for, once, these very things had earned him these men’s scorn. “What I think or don’t think matters little—I am as beholden to the will of the king as any of you, and just as subject to the consequences of crossing him.”
Silence filled the room, the tension rising.
Then Philo said, “That hasn’t stopped you in the past.”