A loud commotion from outside caught his attention, shouts and cries of triumph splitting the air. Keris turned to see Otis striding in his direction, a wide grin on his brother’s face. Which was rather unexpected, given that Otis had been out hunting for him. “Of all the days for you to be up at this hour, Keris, this was the one to do it. We’ve caught ourselves quite the prize.”
His gaze skipped past his brother to the pair of his soldiers dragging a figure between them dressed in Valcottan garments. The individual had a sack over her head, but that didn’t stop him from recognizing the slender brown arms that were bound at the wrist. Arms that had been wrapped around him not an hour ago.
Keris’s stomach dropped, his skin turning to ice as she was forced to her knees in front of him, her wrists bleeding from the tight ropes and arms marked with livid red blotches that would turn to wicked bruises, the wound on her arm no longer bandaged but torn open and bleeding.
“Caught her in an alley on her way to the Anriot,” Otis said. “She put up quite the fight, but we were able to subdue her.”
“Who is she?” The words slipped out, a question Keris had asked himself a thousand times but now one he wished he’d never have an answer to.
“The most powerful woman in Nerastis.” Otis jerked the sack off to reveal the face Keris saw in his dreams. The face of the woman he’d fallen for in a way he hadn’t believed possible.
Otis caught Valcotta by the hair, jerking her head back. “Allow me to introduce General Zarrah Anaphora.”
32
ZARRAH
She stared up at him, though it was hard to see with one of her eyes swollen shut and her brain fuzzy from the blows she’d taken. But she heard the Maridrinian clear enough as he said, “Who harmed her?”
The princeling who’d captured her frowned. “What difference does it make? She fought back. This is Zarrah Anaphora, Keris. She’s the Empress of Valcotta’s niece. The heir apparent. Do you know what a blow to the Valcottans her capture will be?”
“Not as big a blow as us catapulting her back across the Anriot, piece by piece,” one of the soldiers said, and the rest of them laughed, their eyes full of murder. Zarrah struggled not to flinch, because she knew they’d do it. Had seen them do it.
“No,” the Maridrinian—Crown Prince Keris, she reminded herself—said after a long pause, his brow furrowing, “that won’t be what we are doing.”
“Now isn’t the time to get squeamish, Keris,” Otis hissed. “This bitch killed Rask.”
Keris gave a weary sigh. “It’s not the manner in which you wish to execute her that concerns me, Otis, but rather that you intend to kill her at all.”
Otis. O. It had been his letters that she’d stolen and that Keris had chased her across the city to get back. Which meant it was Prince Otis, one of the most brutal murderers of her people since Silas himself had commanded the garrison, whom the Maridrinian held in such high regard.
“As you said,” Keris continued, “this woman is a prize second only to the Empress herself. And yet you’d spend all her worth on a few minutes of satisfaction?” He tsked. “A short-sighted decision, and I think not one Father would thank me for allowing you to make.”
What did he intend? What did he plan to do with her?
The men surrounding them clearly were wondering the same thing, all of them staring at their prince. “What do you want to do with her, then?” Otis demanded.
Keris shrugged. “She’s collateral we can use in negotiations with the Valcottans. With her, we might see an end to the blockades on Southwatch, but the Empress won’t negotiate for the return of a corpse.”
Gods, no. Zarrah blanched at the thought of being used in such a manner, and the other princeling appeared equally horrified as he blurted out, “But—”
Keris leveled a finger at his brother. “I am in command here, Otis, which means she is my prize. If I personally deliver her to Father in Vencia and she proves as valuable as I believe, it will be me he thanks.”
The princeling’s jaw tightened. “He’s only going to kill her. This is a waste of time.”
“Perhaps, but that’s his decision to make, not yours. And to that end, from this moment forward, I want her treated with the utmost care and consideration. The last thing I need is one of you heavy-handed pricks accidentally killing her and ruining my chance to win my father’s favor.”
It had all been lies. If he wanted Silas Veliant’s favor, every single thing he’d said to her had been a lie. Blood boiling, she lunged at him. “You fucking Maridrinian bastard!”
The men caught her shoulders, slamming her into the ground with enough force that her eyes glazed.
“Enough!” Keris ordered. “Stand down!”
But instead of listening, one of the men kicked her several times in the ribs, each blow drawing a gasp of pain from her lips. It only ended when Keris snarled, “Did I or did I not just give an order that she was not to be harmed?”
“But Your Highness—”
“Did I or did I not give you an order?”
The man swallowed hard. “You did, my lord.”
“I don’t give you lot many orders.” His tone was frigid. “But when I do, I expect to be obeyed. And there are consequences to doing otherwise. Otis, have him whipped.”
The princeling’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “How many lashes?”
“How should I know?” Keris straightened his coat. “Keep count, and when he stops breathing, bring me the number.”
Zarrah stared at him in horror, unable to reconcile the man she’d fallen for with this creature. With this monster.
“Keris—”
“I want this win,” he interrupted. “See it done. And then put the woman somewhere safe and keep her under close guard. If anything happens to her, the man responsible will consider this one’s fate”—he jerked his chin at the pale-faced soldier—“merciful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in need of both bath and breakfast.”
And then Keris turned on his heels and walked away.
Everything was blurry and distant, though whether it was because the blow to her head had concussed her or she was in shock, Zarrah couldn’t have said as she watched Keris disappear down the corridor.
“You heard him,” Otis snarled. “Put her in one of the cells, and for the love of God, don’t let anything happen to her. Veliant blood runs through Keris’s veins, and not one of you should ever forget what that means.”
The blood of her mother’s murderer ran through his veins, and she’d just seen proof of it. She’d slept with a monster. Given herself to a monster.
Otis turned to the soldier who’d been sentenced to die. “Do you submit yourself to your fate willingly?”
The soldier was blanched of color, clearly terrified, but he nodded before turning his gaze on her. “My only regret is not aiming for your face, you Valcottan bitch.”
“I’d say next time,” she forced a smirk onto her face, “but it doesn’t look like that’s in the cards.”