He needed to improve their odds.
“Call for reinforcements!” Keris shouted. “Tell them we’ve got Valcottan raiders coming in from behind!”
Half the men stopped their pursuit, eyes on the water where the Valcottan ship was faintly visible, searching for approaching longboats. Better odds, but not good enough. So Keris sprinted up the slope to where his horse was tethered.
Leaping onto its back, he heeled it down the narrow track at a gallop, heading to the fishing village the next inlet over.
His horse exploded onto the beach at the same time as Lara and Aren stumbled from the brush. Leaning over his horse’s neck, he urged the animal for more speed, dragging on the horse’s reins when he reached them. “What the hell are you doing in Nerastis?” They gaped at him. “Never mind. You need to run. They’re coming, and I’m not in any position to help you.”
As soon as the words exited his lips, his soldiers exploded out of the brush and onto the beach, racing in their direction. And because to do anything else would render him complicit in their escape, Keris shouted, “Catch the Valcottans! They’re getting away!”
Lara shot him a glower before Aren dragged her toward the waterline, where another man pulled loose the moorings on a fishing boat.
But they were running out of time.
Keris’s soldiers were in hot pursuit, too great in number for them to fight. Yet his sister abandoned the boat, striding up the beach to meet her countrymen with blade in hand.
Lara fought as one born to it, relying on speed rather than brute strength, her jaw clenched in determination as she cut down man after man, leaving only corpses in her wake.
But there were too many of them.
They were going to kill his sister unless—
“Don’t kill her!” he shouted. “Take her prisoner!”
If his men heard the orders, Keris couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter, because Aren had abandoned the boat and was now fighting back to back with his wife, the two of them a match for Keris’s men.
Or would have been.
The sound of galloping hooves filled the air, and a second later, reinforcements burst onto the beach.
If he didn’t do something, they’d both be killed.
Coralyn’s voice filled his ears: She doesn’t seek forgiveness, but perhaps you might give her yours. His stubbornness didn’t want to bend, didn’t want to give that concession, but neither did he want to stand back and watch his sister slaughtered. Her death would accomplish nothing, whereas if she lived, maybe… maybe Lara might do some good.
Then motion on the water caught his eye. Longboats filled with armed Valcottans, and while the two forces were evenly matched, Keris seized upon the opportunity. “Retreat!” No one listened, so he stood in the saddle and bellowed, “Retreat!”
Philo’s eyes tracked the direction Keris pointed, and then he shouted, “Fall back!”
Attentions snapped from Lara and Aren to the water, where dozens of Valcottans spilled out of longboats.
The sight of who led them caused Keris’s heart to stutter, all the rest of the world falling away.
Zarrah sprinted up the beach, weapon in hand, the moonlight slipping out from behind the clouds to illuminate her face. “For Valcotta,” she screamed.
He should focus on his sister. On Aren. But Keris’s eyes were all for Zarrah as she and her soldiers pursued his men, killing those they overtook. Heading straight toward him.
“Your Highness, run!” Philo shouted, but Zarrah’s eyes had latched on his, and it would have taken an act of God to make him turn his back on her.
She skidded to a stop, holding up an arm. As her soldiers formed up around her, she looked over her shoulder. Keris blinked, seeing that Lara and Aren had the boat on the water, were kicking it out to sea, soon obscured by darkness.
“Fall back to the boats!” Zarrah shouted. As her soldiers moved to comply, her eyes locked on his. “Meet me tomorrow night,” she mouthed, then spun on her heel and joined her comrades racing back to their longboats, the battle over.
For now.
80
ZARRAH
It felt like Zarrah was walking through a dream as she made her way across Nerastis and then out of the city proper, the dim light of her lantern illuminating her path through the long grass. Overhead, there was only a slice of moon, and a million stars twinkled above like diamonds on velvet cloth. Though she’d only walked this path a handful of times to meet Keris, it felt etched on her soul, as if she’d walked it every day of her life. Her pathway to him, and this would be the last time she’d walk it.
The roar of the water rushing through the spillway reached her first, then the mist that smelled of life and earth and leafy things, her fingers trailing over the damp tips of the grass as she rose the slope, her eyes fixed on the faint glow of light waiting for her.
He was here.
Her silent steps turned to soft thuds as she stepped onto the dam, following the arc of rock out into the open until she reached the gap, her eyes never wavering from the familiar shadow on the far side of the spillway. The lantern was bright enough to reveal he wore a Maridrinian uniform bedecked with the braids and medals and markers of a high-ranking officer, a sword belted at his waist, along with a knife on the opposite side. His hair was pulled back, but strands of it had come loose, the wind catching and freeing them.
He held up a hand. “No closer, Zarrah. It’s not safe.”
Confusion flashed through her, and for a heartbeat, she thought he meant that he was the danger to her. Then she saw that the water had eroded enough of the spillway that a portion of the dam’s deck had collapsed, widening the gap an extra two feet.
Too far to jump.
A sharp, stabbing pain struck her heart, because she’d thought that she’d do this in his arms. Thought she’d say goodbye with the taste of him on her lips and the feel of his hands on her skin, but apparently fate, God, and the stars had given her enough for one night and would give her no more. Her eyes burned, and she blinked away the tears before they could fall.
Silence.
Zarrah knew she should speak. That she should start her explanation now, because time was short. But her throat was tight, strangling every word that tried to rise to her tongue. To her lips.
“Lara and Aren made it through the Red Desert.” His voice carried over the roar of the water, risky names to be shouting on the outskirts of Nerastis. “Bastard has nine lives.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “I think it’s your sister that’s the hard one to kill.”
“Recent events suggest otherwise.” There was a hint of anger in his voice. “She nearly took an arrow in the back last night, she was so distracted coming up with suitable words for goodbye.”
Zarrah flinched, though she wasn’t certain why.
“What is going on, Zarrah? Why were they on your ship? Why did you dump them on a beach, only to sail in to save their asses?”