He deserved a broken nose, but she couldn’t risk putting him in his place. Not with the sun fully in the sky and her very much in enemy territory.
Stepping outside, she blinked against the bright sunlight, nausea twisting in her belly and her head starting to throb. The streets of Nerastis were quiet, but in the distance, she could hear the sounds of hoofbeats: Maridrinian soldiers already on patrol.
Hurrying down the length of the building, Zarrah moved into an alley and climbed onto a stack of crates to gain access to the rooftops, then moved swiftly across them in the direction of the Anriot.
The smells of cooking mixed with the scents of chamber pots being emptied into the streets, but she paid them little mind, relying instead on her ears to guide her away from threats, all her thought for picking the voices of soldiers and the hoofbeats of horses out from the shrieks of babies. Of women shouting at men to rouse themselves. Of men returning their own forms of abuse on the women. She felt dizzy and unwell, her balance off, and her body weak.
You fell for Silas Veliant’s son.
The thought distracted her as she leapt between rooftops, and her foot slipped. Biting off a scream, Zarrah flailed her arms as she fell, landing hard on a pile of crates. The wood shattered, pain lancing through her, but she scrambled to her feet, knowing she needed to move quickly.
As she started to climb, a voice from the front of the alley caught her attention, and she turned to find a man flanked by soldiers, his face familiar. “Well, now,” he said, eyes full of recognition. “Look who we have here.”
31
KERIS
His ears filled with a roaring sound as she abandoned the room, leaving him alone with nothing but the remembrance of her reaction in his head. The horror in her eyes when she’d realized his identity, how her disgust had caused her to spill her guts, everything that had passed between them washed away by his name. By the fucking blue eyes he’d inherited from his father and the legacy that came with them.
“I hate you!” He slammed his fist against the wall, his knuckles splitting and agony racing up his wrist. But the pain was nothing compared to his hatred for his father. A hundred miles away, and still, he took everything Keris ever cared about.
Ever loved.
Doubling over, he sucked in breath after breath, his stomach twisting with hurt that she’d left and fear that she was out in his half of the city alone, everything about her making her a target. But there had been no stopping her.
Valcotta was not a woman to be contained, but he still had to fight the urge to go after her. Had to fight the urge to tail her across the city to ensure she got across the Anriot safely.
What if she doesn’t make the jump?
Bile rose in his stomach, and Keris clenched his teeth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. She can do it, he silently told himself. She’s capable—she proved that much last night.
And as it was, his own absence had inevitably been noticed. He’d told Aileena that if he were ever discovered gone from her rooms she should say that he’d left to go back to the palace, which meant if he didn’t arrive there soon, Otis would start a search. Which would only complicate matters for Valcotta.
Swiftly donning his clothing, Keris headed downstairs.
“You’re late,” the pig at the desk said. “That’ll be an extra copper.”
It was tempting to tell the bastard to fuck himself, but instead Keris flung a handful of coins at his face, limiting himself to the satisfaction of watching a silver coin bounce hard off the man’s greasy forehead as he exited the building.
The rising sun was already hot, not a cloud in the sky to mute its blinding rays, and he pulled up his hood as much to shield his eyes as his identity as he strode through the streets toward his broken palace.
I would never have done this if I’d known who you were. You are more my enemy than anyone in Nerastis.
He felt sick, in need of sleep and an entire pitcher of water, his throat dry as dust, his eyes burning. But it was grief that choked him, drowning his anger and leaving him hollow.
There would be no more nights meeting her at the dam. No more conversation with what seemed the only person in this cursed city he could actually talk to. And never again would he have the chance to touch her perfect skin, to kiss those lips, to bury himself between her thighs, the wild pleasure of the prior night unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
What did you expect? he asked himself. Your name is poison, and everything you touch turns to rot.
Ahead, the gates to the palace loomed, and though all was quiet, there was a tension in the air that didn’t exist during the midnight truce. The people who were already out and going about their business had a caution to them, knowing full well that with the sun in the sky, either side might be priming for an attack.
Stopping in front of the gate, Keris pulled back his hood, the eyes of the guards on duty widening in recognition and shock. “Your Highness,” one of them said as they opened the gate. “We’ve been searching for you all morning. Prince Otis is scouring the riverfront.”
Shit. “Too much wine,” he answered. “I fell asleep on my way back.”
One of his father’s generals approached, his thick arms crossed over his monstrous chest. The huge man cleared his throat, and Keris girded himself for whatever chiding would come from wandering the city without an escort, but instead the man said, “We received word that the Ithicanian king has been captured and is being brought to Vencia.”
Captured. Keris cared little for Aren Kertell himself, what he’d learned about the man from Raina not endearing the Ithicanian king to him in any way, but his stomach clenched at what it meant for Ithicana. Whether he was worthy or not, Aren’s people followed him, and without his leadership, their resistance to the Maridrinian invaders might crumple. Which was logically what he should want, except the thought of his father triumphing—of him becoming the Master of the Bridge, in truth—made Keris want to vomit. “I see.”
“With the capture, your father foresees an end to the conflict in Ithicana, which means we’ll have the resources to escalate our own situation. To take back the southern half of Nerastis from the Valcottans. It is your father’s will that you commit yourself to achieving this particular end.”
Commit himself to war.
Keris’s head began to throb, and he rubbed at one temple. “Let’s wait until our hold on Ithicana is certain before biting off more than we can chew with the Valcottans. Now if you’ll excuse me—”