Keris returned to his seat, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re suggesting I ignore orders from my father? From the king?”
“It would save lives, Highness. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of Maridrinian lives. And the cost…” Philo glanced sideways at his comrades, whose eyes were full of agreement. “If your father loses the bridge, well… maybe that’s for the best.”
Elation filled Keris’s stomach, his pulse hammering and his skin hot, but he kept all of it from his face. “Then let us be united in our defiance.” He leaned forward, finally allowing a smile to form on his face. “But know this, my friends: this step is only the beginning.”
78
ZARRAH
They had a matter of days to create a plan to take back the bridge from Silas in one blow.
As Zarrah’s ship sped them north toward Nerastis, she spent nearly every waking hour closeted in the captain’s quarters with Aren Kertell and another Ithicanian, an older man by the name of Jor who had a penchant for filthy jokes and was doing a damned fine job of eating and drinking through the ship’s supplies.
“You draw like a toddler,” Jor snapped, jerking the pencil out of his king’s hand and pulling a piece of paper in front of him, brow furrowed as he sketched, pausing from time to time to sip at his glass of wine. But what materialized on the page was a remarkably detailed illustration of Southwatch Island, not just above the water, but below.
“Here.” Aren pointed at the dark circles Jor was shading at the base of the infamous pier. “And here. They are tunnels that come up through the island and let out in storage buildings. You’ll need to use your best swimmers.”
“What about the sharks?”
Aren shrugged as though the formidable maneaters that haunted Ithicana’s waters weren’t a significant issue. “Motivation to swim fast. And it’s the only way—you need to take out the shipbreakers, else you’ll lose two of your three vessels before you reach shore.”
Zarrah listened as he spoke, taking notes of the endless critical details of how to take what was broadly considered to be an unassailable island. An unveiling of secrets that every nation north and south would once have used against Ithicana, but which would now be used to save it, for Southwatch Island was Zarrah’s target. Harendell, she’d learned, would be doing the same at Northwatch with the information provided by Aren’s sister, Princess Ahnna Kertell, and the Ithicanians themselves would manage all the points in between. A union of three nations in a coordinated attack unlike anything she’d seen undertaken, but Aren seemed confident that it would work.
“I need to piss,” Jor announced. “Don’t tell him anything critical while I’m gone, General. Boy’s got a brain like a sieve.”
“I take back everything I said about missing you,” Aren answered, though Zarrah noticed the fondness in his gaze as the older man departed. Then he turned his attention back to her. “Apologies for his language. And his jokes.” He scrubbed his hair back from his face, then glanced at the door as though hoping it would open. “And for the small fortune in wine he’s already consumed. He’s a soldier through and through.”
“Aren’t we all.” She sipped from her own glass, assessing Aren as he again glanced to the door, ever hopeful Lara would walk through it, although Ithicana’s queen was nearly always to be found on deck. A distinct lack of sea legs, Jor had told her, but Zarrah suspected Lara’s motivations for staying out of discussions of strategy were more than just seasickness.
“She’s not returning to Ithicana with you, is she?”
Aren’s jaw tightened. “No. My people… they won’t accept Lara after everything that’s happened. Too many lives have been lost at Maridrinian hands, and for all she didn’t intend for the invasion to happen, there is no denying that Lara came to us a spy. No denying that none of this would have occurred if not for the information she provided Silas. Bringing her with me would be perceived as me demanding my people bend knee to her as queen, and it would… undermine my ability to rally them behind me, which is critical. I need their support if Ithicana is to survive.”
Everything Aren said was the undeniable truth, but the mix of anger and grief in his hazel eyes, and the bitterness in his voice, told Zarrah that he hated that truth. He was being forced to choose between his people and the woman he clearly loved, and though she couldn’t say so, Zarrah knew how that felt. Knew what it was like to lie awake at night, searching for a way to have both. Knew what it felt like to have a wild passion take hold in the darkness and fill you with the certainty that you could make people accept things as you wanted them to be, only to have that certainty vanquished by the dawn light. Knew what it was like to consider turning your back on everything and everyone just for the sake of being with the person you loved.
“I’d bring her back anyway,” he said, and the words sounded like a confession. “But I’m afraid…” He trailed off, throat convulsing as he swallowed hard, so Zarrah finished the thought.
“That they’ll kill her.”
Aren gave a tight nod. “If anything happened to her because I couldn’t let her go, I’d… I couldn’t live with it.”
It was not her place to advise. Not even her place to voice an opinion. So Zarrah only covered his hand with hers and said, “No one can predict the future, Your Grace. Fate favors the strong. God rewards the good. And the stars never abandon those who dream of more.”
Aren was quiet for a long moment, then he said, “Are you certain you wish to do this, Zarrah? It’s not too late for you to stand down.”
A question he’d asked many times since Zarrah had gone to him and Lara after their meeting with the Empress. Since she’d proposed using the resources her aunt had provided her not to attack Vencia while Silas’s back was turned, but to help Aren liberate Ithicana. And her answer was the same now as it was then. “Can you take back your kingdom without me?” She stared into his eyes. “I don’t have a death wish, Aren. If you think Ithicana can drive Silas out without my ships and soldiers, tell me now, and I will bow out.”
Aren’s eyes went to Jor’s sketch, and she knew he was considering what hadn’t been drawn. The Maridrinian naval vessels circling the island, which he hadn’t the means to combat. The sheer number of soldiers that Silas had protecting the asset. “It wouldn’t be a quick battle. It would take time.”
“Time is the enemy,” she said. “Time means an opportunity for Silas to empty his garrisons in Vencia and Nerastis in order to fight you. And the moment he does that, the Empress attacks. Vencia will be sacked and burned. Nerastis will be retaken and every Maridrinian living there put to sword before he realizes his error.”