He waited in silence, and she closed her eyes, listening to his breathing, which was rapid from the climb.
“The harem has been courteous, and I’ve been given everything I need. Your food is terrible, though. Someone needs to inform the cook that with salt, less is more.”
Keris laughed softly. “He cooks to my father’s taste, and everyone else’s preferences are inconsequential.”
“Does your father have any redeemable characteristics?” Not that there was anything that could redeem him in her eyes.
“None. Though that’s probably just as well, given that you’re planning to kill him.” And before she could answer one way or another, he added, “Don’t bother denying it, Valcotta. Even if you hadn’t been radiating murder when you saw him, you do have something of a reputation.”
“He deserves to die.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that, but it’s not such an easy thing to accomplish. He never goes anywhere without his bodyguards, who are loyal, and even if you did manage to get him alone, he’s an accomplished fighter. And he’d be armed, whereas you’ll be lucky to get your hands on anything more dangerous than a butter knife.”
“Then give me a weapon.”
“I don’t have one to give you—I’m the crown prince, and even I’m not allowed weapons within the inner sanctum. Believe me, Valcotta, when you are as universally reviled as my father, you either become very paranoid or you find yourself dead.”
“What about poison?” It disgusted her to use such a method, but if that were the only option…
“Everything and everyone who comes in those gates is searched. He has the best tasters in the kingdom, dogs that are trained to sniff for poisons, and he has the habit of changing dining plans at the last minute. He’s also recently become very obsessed about his cutlery being tampered with, which is why he brings his own to every meal.”
She glared at him, though he wouldn’t be able to see her expression in the dark. “For someone who says he’d like to see his father dead, you aren’t particularly helpful.” And despite what he’d endured at his father’s hands, she didn’t trust that Keris wasn’t trying to protect his father.
“If killing him were easy, he’d be dead.” Keris shifted his weight so that he was sitting on the ledge, one arm hooked through the bars, sleeve pushed up. And she found her eyes drawn to that pale expanse of skin. “While I’ve no doubt you’re capable of finding a way, Valcotta, I’ve no confidence that you’d survive long enough to enjoy your vengeance. And your life matters infinitely more to me than his death.”
Her heart flipped, and Zarrah silently cursed herself for a fool to be so moved by pretty words, especially given she’d seen how easily he lied. Biting the insides of her cheeks, Zarrah considered her response for several long moments before deciding on silence.
Keris exhaled a frustrated breath. “I’ve sent a letter to the Empress with proposed terms for your release.”
Zarrah listened as he explained the proposal, knowing that there was little chance of her aunt agreeing to such steep demands and that she would likely counter. Yet admitting so would be folly. Her longevity depended on her having value, and because killing Silas would be no easy task, she needed to keep the Maridrinians convinced she was worth more alive than dead. Especially Keris.
“The Harendellian ambassador is facilitating the negotiations, given that your people have a habit of sending our messengers back without their entrails, but it will still take weeks for us to receive a response.”
Weeks.
That was how long she had before her aunt inevitably countered, which she suspected would see Silas past the limit of his patience, and her subsequently executed. A few weeks to kill a man who expected death to come from every angle, most especially from her.
Keris was watching her with an uneasy expression, likely motivated by her silence, so she said, “You grew up in this place. There has to be some way to get out.”
“If there is, I never found it.” He was silent for a moment. “It was designed as a prison. For close to two hundred years, it’s served as the home of the king’s harem, and not every woman brought here comes of their own volition. Their fathers and brothers and uncles force them into marriages to secure alliances with the crown or for financial gain or for political favors. Or because the king saw their face,” his voice turned bitter, “and decided he had to possess them. Which means for two hundred years, women have been trying to escape this place. Every possible avenue has been discovered and removed, and with the Ithicanian in residence, it’s even worse. Because now they aren’t just containing unhappy noblewomen; they are containing a renowned warrior who probably knows a dozen ways to kill a man without a weapon.”
She knew a dozen ways to kill a man without a weapon, but Zarrah said nothing.
“And despite all of that, I’d invite you to try. Except my father has made it clear that if you are caught pushing your boundaries, he will kill you.”
The fear of death was rarely enough to dissuade her.
“I know it’s against your nature to sit idle, Valcotta. But please allow me the opportunity to try to get you free of this place via negotiation before you consign yourself to death.”
She needed time to regain her strength, so it was easy enough to shrug. “Who wouldn’t like to be pampered like a harem wife for a handful of weeks?”
“You.” He leaned against the bars. “And be wary of the wives. I put you in this building rather than elsewhere in the palace because nothing happens in here without Coralyn’s say, and because she refuses to allow Serin in her house. But the harem is just as dangerous as you, albeit in a different fashion. Their lives are hard, but they protect them fiercely even as they hunt for ways to increase their power. If you cross them, they’ll be just as quick to see you dead as my father or Serin.”
She’d been raised to hold Maridrinian women in contempt, but already she’d seen that the notions put into her head were far from accurate. “Fine.”
Keris was silent for a long moment, then said, “I’m sorry for this, Valcotta. I should never have let it go as far as it did between us, should have walked away that night on the dam and never looked back, because everyone who gets close to me ends up hurt. It was a mistake.”
He regrets you. A sharp pain radiated through Zarrah’s chest, and though she silently berated herself for being an idiot, it refused to fade. “I made my own decisions, not you. I’ll not have you take responsibility for that which I chose freely.”
“A choice you wouldn’t have made if I hadn’t deceived you about my identity.”