“I need to return these things. And to end… it.”
“It?” Yrina lifted her eyebrows. “You mean your friendship with the man that smells like leather and spice and reads books about stars?”
Zarrah’s cheeks burned hot. “Correct.”
Silence stretched between them, then Yrina said, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I know it’s risky with my aunt’s spies watching my every move, but I need to do it. So I need you to cover for me.”
“I meant,” Yrina said slowly, “are you sure you want to end it?”
“Of course I am.” The words tore from her lips before Zarrah had a chance to think about whether they were true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She wasn’t sure if the question was for Yrina or herself.
She’d dedicated her life to achieving victory in the Endless War. To avenging her mother’s murder at any cost. To carrying on her aunt’s legacy by making Valcotta strong. Seeing the Maridrinian ran counter to all of that.
Didn’t it?
“I don’t know…” Yrina said. “Maybe because these past weeks are the first time I’ve seen you this happy.”
Happy. It was as though a missing piece fell into place, finally providing an explanation for what it was she was giving up. Not a coat or a book, but a feeling that had been absent in her life. Zarrah wanted to scream with frustration, because this wasn’t what should make her feel happy. It should be achieving goals and winning victories, not staring up at a starry sky and dreaming of a world with no more war, no more bloodshed. “You’re reading more into this than you should.”
“I don’t think I am.” Dark-brown eyes fixed Zarrah with a steady gaze. “I think you’re ending it because the Empress is making you, not because you wish it.”
“She didn’t ask me to end anything.” What she’d asked was for Zarrah to not lose sight of the thing most important to her: avenging her mother’s death. Because her aunt knew that if she didn’t achieve that goal, it would weigh upon her soul.
Yrina cast her eyes skyward. “Perhaps not in so many words, but there isn’t a person in the palace who doesn’t know how her temper flared over you deigning to give yourself one night of liberty after our victory. She controls every aspect of your being, Zar, and has since your mother died.”
Frustration boiled in her stomach that her friend was so badly missing the mark. Why didn’t Yrina understand that the Empress teaching Zarrah to control herself wasn’t the same as controlling her? “She’s trying to ensure I have the skills necessary to rule Valcotta!”
“No, she’s trying to ensure that even after she’s in the grave, she’ll still rule, for she will have created an heir exactly like her!”
Zarrah’s temper burned hot, because Yrina, of all people, knew that she had no tolerance for harsh words against the Empress. Her aunt was her savior, the one who’d given her life and purpose after everything had been stolen from her. Who’d named Zarrah heir instead of her own son. Visions of her aunt weeping when she’d believed that Zarrah was losing her path filled her mind’s eye, carrying with them guilt and grief from knowing she hadn’t just disappointed her Empress, but herself. “You’re out of line.”
“Am I?” Yrina paced back and forth across the room. “I’ve watched how she’s groomed you, Zar. How she’s made certain that you have nothing in your life beyond the goals and priorities that she’s set for you, so that she can threaten you with taking them away and leaving you with nothing. How she makes you feel as though you have no one but her, that no one cares for you like she does. And I hate that awful look of adoration that climbs on your face whenever she walks into the room, because it’s clear to me and everyone else that she’s manipulating you!”
“My aunt loves me!” Zarrah snarled.
Yrina snorted. “Love, you say? She’s got an interesting way of showing it, given that the moment she got wind that there might be someone else in your life, she arrived to put an end to it.”
“To focus me!”
“To control you! That bitch is incapable of love.”
Fury raged through Zarrah’s veins. “Mind your tongue, Yrina, or find yourself deprived of it.”
Yrina didn’t so much as blink. “Those are her words. Her threats. Always spoken when anyone dares to offer an opinion contrary to her own.”
That wasn’t true. Her aunt had advisors whose counsel she heeded, and she always allowed Zarrah to speak her mind.
But does she ever listen?
“I don’t know who this man is, Zarrah,” Yrina said softly. “And I don’t know if it’s something he’s done or said or if he’s just that good a lover, but he’s changed you.” She hesitated. “No, not changed. He’s just caused you to remember who you really are. So don’t think it a coincidence the Empress showed up when she did.”
Was that true? Zarrah immediately rejected the thought as lunacy. The Empress was not so controlling as to toss aside travel plans solely to police her niece’s idle hours; she’d merely taken the opportunity to refocus her while she was here on other matters.
Except… what had those other matters been?
What had been the reason her aunt had returned to Nerastis?
It occurred to Zarrah for the first time that none had been given, and she’d been so caught up in regaining her aunt’s favor that she’d not noticed the visit was rather purposeless. “Thank you for your insight.” Her voice was colder than she’d intended, but it was better than betraying her unease. “Now will you cover for me, or do I need to take my chances alone?”
“Of course I will.” Yrina’s shoulders slumped, and she ran one hand through her curly hair. “Go. End it, if that’s what you want.”
Except it wasn’t so simple as that, which Yrina would have understood if she’d known the truth of who this man was.
You don’t even know who he is, the voice in her head whispered. You don’t even know his name. “I won’t be long.”
Yrina caught her wrist. “I love you, Zar. I only want you to be happy; please remember that.”
“I love you, too.” And though there was more she should have said, some acknowledgement that there was perhaps some truth to her friend’s words, Zarrah said nothing, only slipped out the window into the night.
29
KERIS
You should go.
A refrain that had repeated in his head for what had to be over an hour, yet Keris remained sitting on the damp rock of the dam, his eyes fixed on the shadows of the opposite side, now out of reach. And it wasn’t only Valcotta who was out of reach, but the dream she’d ignited in him that he could be something more than what he was. Someone better. Leaving felt like he’d be giving up not only on her, but on himself.
She’s not coming. And you are what you are.
Keris rose to his feet, turning from the spillway. But as he did, the shadows stirred. Freezing in place, he held his breath, waiting. And she appeared.
“I brought your things,” she shouted over the roar of the water. “I should’ve brought them sooner. I’m sorry.”