Because there was nothing he wouldn’t give to stop this. Including keeping this monster alive and by his side.
“The only thing I want,” Serin rose to his feet, “is to see the look on your face when you realize you’ve lost the game, Keris. When you realize you’ve lost to me.”
Then he threw himself forward.
Not at Keris, but through the windows encircling the tower, glass exploding as he struck.
Keris lunged after him onto the balcony, reaching.
But he was once again too late.
Serin flipped over the railing and fell, a wild shriek filling the air. Yet as Keris stumbled against the rail and looked down, it was to see the Magpie smiling up at him. Smiling, right until the moment he struck the paving stones below.
Thud.
87
ZARRAH
“We made war against the wrong enemy,” had been her aunt’s response when Zarrah had returned to Pyrinat. “I believed my adversary Silas, but it was his son. I will not make the same mistake next time.”
Next time. The words haunted Zarrah as she listened to her aunt give orders not for Zarrah to be punished for her choice to assist Aren at Southwatch but for a celebration in her honor. “Let it be known that my niece and heir is responsible for ripping the bridge out of Maridrina’s hands,” she declared. “Without her actions, and her warning, the Ithicanian army would never have made it to Eranahl in time to repel the Rat King and his fleet.”
A lie, through and through. Because of Keris, her chance to atone and regain her honor had been stolen away, Ithicana’s victory won by their own hands—and by the hands of their queen. Which was perhaps how it should be.
Silas was dead. Ithicana was liberated. And the Endless War between Maridrina and Valcotta was once again at a stalemate, all because of what Keris had done. She still couldn’t forgive him. Couldn’t give up her anger at his betrayal. But she also couldn’t give up him.
Her dreams were haunted by his face. His voice. His touch.
She loved him every bit as much as she hated him, and the emotions warred inside her, giving Zarrah no peace.
Which was perhaps fitting, given peace between Maridrina and Valcotta was not on the horizon. Not when her aunt’s obsession with her new adversary grew with every passing day. Keris had denied her victory and wounded her pride, and the result was a hate that made her lifelong animosity toward Silas seem a paltry thing.
It was terrifying, because what the Empress wanted wasn’t his death: she wanted Keris destroyed.
“Everyone has a weakness!” her aunt shouted as she stormed around the room, scraps of paper detailing everything the spies could learn about Keris fluttering to the ground. “We must find his!”
An Endless War between empresses and kings. A war of hubris and avarice. A war where people were nothing more than pawns on a board, used and discarded with no thought beyond whether they’d achieved the player’s purpose. And though Zarrah dedicated herself to steering her aunt to different goals and higher purpose, it amounted to nothing. Because to the Empress, Zarrah was as much a pawn as everyone else.
“We should send an envoy to Ithicana,” Zarrah repeated. “Reaffirm our goodwill, yes?”
Her aunt didn’t respond, her attention entirely on a report detailing the plans for Keris’s upcoming coronation. “This tells me nothing!” She cast it aside. “Why does no one know anything about this man? I need to understand how he thinks, and you give me plans for dinner parties and décor! What does Keris Veliant want?”
“Peace.” The word slipped from Zarrah’s lips, and she instantly regretted it as her aunt rounded on her. “What makes you say that?”
“His actions.” Zarrah picked up a fallen report. “He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want the bridge and intends to withdraw what remains of his soldiers from Ithicana.”
“All that proves is he’s more intelligent than his father—that structure is a curse!”
“Bermin says there hasn’t been a single raid over the border,” Zarrah persisted. “And not for lack of manpower, for their garrison there is full. Instead, they look to defense and to rebuilding their half of the city.”
“Biding his time while Maridrina licks its wounds.” Her aunt picked up a glass, swirling the contents, eyeing the report. “It says he will not follow the Maridrinian tradition of marrying his father’s harem. Yet neither does he cast them aside. What do you make of that, girl? You lived with them for months yet offer little in the way of information.”
Zarrah’s chest tightened. “I believe his affection for them platonic.”
The Empress snorted. “An aversion to bedding them is not reason enough to risk angering his people by casting aside tradition. There’s something else going on.” She gestured to one of her spymasters. “Find out more about his motivations.”
The man bowed and exited, but on his heels, a servant came in carrying a tray. On it was an enamel tube bearing the Maridrinian royal seal. Zarrah’s heart skipped at the sight, wondering what possible message Keris would have sent her aunt.
The Empress clearly wondered the same thing, for she snatched up the tube and pulled out a thick sheave of paper, her brow furrowing as she sat to read.
Pulse racing, Zarrah waited in silence.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. After what felt like an eternity, her aunt set the pages down, staring blankly off into the distance. Her voice was hoarse as she said, “You’re just like your mother.”
Zarrah went still, her skin prickling. “Pardon, Auntie?”
The Empress’s lip curled, her nose wrinkling as though she smelled something rotten. “Despite everything I gave you, everything I’ve done for you, you took her side.” Her head swiveled, the eyes that latched on Zarrah’s filled with icy fury. “Both of you whores.”
A chill ran down Zarrah’s spine. “Excuse me?”
“You brought a rat into your bed.” Her aunt took a step toward her, and Zarrah instinctively stepped back. “Which would be unforgivable in itself, but you told him my secrets. You betrayed your Empress and your nation for your lover.”
“This is madness, Auntie.” She couldn’t keep the shake from her voice. “Who is telling you these lies?”
“It is you who lies!”
The blow came hard and fast, her aunt’s fist striking her in the cheek and knocking her back. Zarrah staggered, catching herself against a table.
“You were Keris Veliant’s lover.” The Empress stalked toward her. “Not just while you were his prisoner but before. After.”
“I ask again”—Zarrah lifted her chin—“who has told you these lies?”
“The Magpie.”