Because this hadn’t been his victory, it had been hers.
“We don’t.” Zarrah nodded at the healer, who’d finished working on her arm and was now leaving the room. “As you said yourself, pride will send them back across the Anriot, and I intend to meet them head-on. No more of us arriving minutes too late to save the lives of those we are supposed to protect, Bermin. Until the Empress orders otherwise, we will defend our borders. Nothing more.”
His nostrils flared, wheels turning in his dark eyes. Then he shrugged. “I live by your will, General.”
Liar, she thought, but only smiled, watching as he left the room.
The Maridrinian was waiting when she arrived at the dam, both of them carrying muted lanterns in deference to the utter blackness of the moonless night.
“You were true to your word, Maridrina,” she called across the gap, her pulse racing faster than the climb warranted.
“Such little faith.” He set his lantern on the edge of the spillway. “Mark the edge for me, would you? I’ve no interest in shouting across a waterfall.”
She set her lantern down on the edge, backing up to give him space but remaining close enough to catch his arm if he slipped. Fear bit in her chest as he retreated out of the faint glow of the lantern, his boots scraping against rock as he sprinted forward and leapt, little more than a shadow until he landed like a cat next to her lantern. And though he was steady, Zarrah caught him by the arm, pulling him away from the edge. “Don’t you fear falling?”
He glanced back at the spillway, then shrugged. “Seems counterproductive. Besides, I won’t be half so lucky as to die from a fall—it’s just not in the cards.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he did fear, then found herself not wanting to talk about such grim things. “They came exactly as you said they would. It was good information. Thank you.”
“Should we be expecting retaliation?”
She shook her head, following suit as he sat on the edge of the dam, legs dangling. “It was a clean fight—and one which we won. It has contented spirits in the barracks, at least for a time.” Inhaling, she wrinkled her nose. “Why do you smell like you just came from a brothel?”
He smirked. “Because I did.”
A flicker of jealousy burned in her stomach, but before she could tell herself that she had no right to the emotion, he added, “I have an arrangement with one of the girls in order to give myself cover for my nocturnal wanderings, as I’ve no desire to be followed. Especially of late.”
“And you think you can trust her?”
“I don’t trust anyone. But she’s a clever girl who knows it’s in her best interest not to betray me, never mind that I pay her more for her silence than I would for her services.” His elbow brushed the bare skin of her arm as he turned to look at her, sending prickles of sensation through her body. “Does no one notice your absence?”
“There’s a rumor that I have a lover in the city.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t discourage it.”
“Do you?”
The question came out quickly, and Zarrah smiled at the darkness. “Jealous, Maridrina?”
He huffed out a breath. “I’m merely concerned for the longevity of your relationship with the poor sot, given you spend more nights than not here with me. He must seem very boring in comparison.”
“You’ve a high opinion of yourself.”
“I find false modesty tedious.”
A laugh pulled from her lips, and when Zarrah turned her head, she found him watching her, his face serious. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” His voice was soft. “Everything is far from wrong.” Then he coughed and looked away. “Except in the case of your rumored lover. How long will he hover by the door, awaiting your attention, before resigning himself to the comfort of his right hand? I’m starting to feel guilty, which is typically only a sensation I burden myself with when I’ve received something in return.”
Holding a hand to her mouth, Zarrah tried and failed to stifle another laugh. “Just what are you begging me for, Maridrina?”
“Release.”
As her eyes widened, he laughed, teeth white in the darkness. “From the burden of guilt, Valcotta. Curb your filthy thoughts and tell me that I’m not keeping you from anyone so that I might sleep easy.”
This was dangerous ground, and if she were smart, she’d stop things now before they went any further. Because already, she felt like she was standing at the end of precipice, knees bent and ready to leap. Yet she found herself saying, “Sleep easy, then. My nights are yours and yours alone.”
He leaned closer, and her heart leapt with anticipation even as her skin flushed. But he only murmured into her ear, “And they say Valcottans are merciless.”
A slight shudder ran through her, an ache building in her core. “Don’t get used to it.”
He chuckled, then rose in a smooth motion before reaching down to pull her up, his gloved hand strong and warm against her naked palm. “My fellows are currently licking both wounds and pride, but the latter will drive them to move against Valcotta. Their plans are not fixed, but when they are, I need to be able to get word to you.”
“Can you meet me again tomorrow night? At midnight?”
“Midnight.” Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips against her knuckles, and then he turned away.
She didn’t want him to go.
Didn’t want this conversation to end.
“Maridrina?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”
This is insane, logic screamed at her. Utterly and entirely foolish.
But her heart said otherwise. “I don’t suppose you’d like to get something to eat?”
25
KERIS
You have lost your bloody mind, Keris thought to himself as he followed Valcotta down from the dam and into the enemy side of Nerastis. If you get caught, a quick death is the best you can hope for.
And a fool’s hope, at that.
“Best to keep your hood up,” she murmured. “There will be Maridrinians aplenty on our side at this time of night, but you’re likely to draw some attention.”
He smirked. “A hazard of being so attractive, I suppose.”
Valcotta huffed out a breath of amusement, then pulled up her hood. “I was thinking of that blond hair of yours, but you’re correct: your ego burns bright as the sun.”
Staggering sideways, Keris clutched at his chest, but dutifully drew his own hood forward to conceal his hair and shadow his face, tucking his gloves in a pocket because Valcottans didn’t wear them. Which meant they both blended in as they wove through the broken streets lined with drinking establishments and opium dens and brothels, the majority of people keeping to the shadows of hoods and scarfs as they pursued vice and sin.