The little princess looked to Coralyn, who gave a slight nod, and then said, “Gladly, Zarrah. But only if you tell me more stories of battles.”
Smiling, Zarrah rose and helped the child to her feet. What the girl needed was a cane, but that was another thing Silas apparently considered a weapon. It made Zarrah sick how little regard he showed his own children, but Sara seemed unconcerned, gripping Zarrah’s arm to steady herself as they moved slowly down the path.
“Let us walk around the tower and then back.” Zarrah knew the limits of the child’s endurance well, for Sara had been her constant—and only—companion. The harem still kept their distance, and Keris… Keris, she hadn’t seen since their walk in the garden on her first morning in Vencia.
She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his absence.
“Boy keeps the hours of a two-copper courtesan,” she’d heard Coralyn complaining earlier to Lestara, a rare beauty who, despite not being Maridrinian by birth, seemed to hold the greatest grievance against Zarrah. “Out all night and then sleeps all day. It’s insufferable.”
Lestara had only shrugged. “Can you blame him? There’s little to entertain him within these walls. Once he inherits, I think you’ll find we can scarcely get rid of him. Not that I’d want to get rid of him.”
“Mind your words, girl,” Coralyn had snapped. “If Silas hears talk like that, you’ll suffer. As will Keris, despite him showing no more interest in you than he does Elouise.”
The wife Elouise was the eldest in the harem, wrinkled, deaf, and smelling of prune juice. Zarrah had struggled not to laugh at the look the comparison brought to Lestara’s face, although she could hardly blame the woman. Silas was old, smelly, and sadistic, whereas Keris was young, handsome, and charming. The woman probably prayed nightly that her husband died in his sleep and wept every morning to discover he had not.
But regardless of Lestara’s dreams for her future, she was right in one thing: Keris had been notably absent. And not knowing the reason why was driving her to madness.
“Tell me a battle story, Zarrah,” Sara said, interrupting her thoughts. “One from long ago when you were young.”
“As opposed to recent battles, where I am old and feeble?” Smiling, Zarrah dug into her memories, bringing forth a tale the princess would find worthy. The words flowed from her lips even as her eyes went to the tower, and the guards standing at the entrance of the base, both armed and deadly. More patrolled the bridges linking the tower to the buildings, leaving every entrance under guard. And the men never abandoned their posts.
She circled the base of the tower, pausing when she heard the child’s breathing begin to labor. “Rest here.”
They sat together on a bench, the tower blocking them from the harem’s sight, though Zarrah’s pair of guards stood nearby, expressions bored.
“I will be leaving the palace soon,” Sara said, toying with the fabric of her dress. “My father is sending me away.” Twin tears rolled down the girl’s face. “I don’t want to leave.”
Your life will be better away from this place, away from your father, Zarrah wanted to say, but instead asked, “Have you ever been outside of Vencia? It is a very beautiful country.”
Sara looked up at her with red eyes. “I’ve never been outside of the palace.”
Sickness filled Zarrah, for Silas didn’t just treat his wives like prisoners; he treated his children that way as well. Born and raised in captivity, and now liberty was in Sara’s grasp, but it felt like punishment. “To be a warrior, one must be willing to venture beyond the walls and face one’s fears. And though no one has given you a weapon, you are still a warrior, Sara.”
Sara frowned, but then nodded, wiping away her tears.
“Shall we carry on?” Zarrah asked. “Your mother will wonder where you have gone off to.”
“Sara!”
Zarrah straightened at the distant call, not a female voice, but male.
“It’s my brother!” The little princess tugged on Zarrah’s arm so that she walked faster. “Let’s find him!”
Her heart skittered in her chest at the sound of boots against the pathway, her skin prickling with anticipation. She saw him before he saw her, and not for the first time, Zarrah felt her chest tighten into breathlessness at the sight of him. Sun reflected off his honey-blond locks, which were pulled behind his head as he’d always worn it during the nights in Nerastis. It revealed the square lines of his jaw and the high planes of his cheekbones, utterly beautiful and yet so profoundly masculine that her toes curled. Her body didn’t care that he was her enemy or that he was the son of the man who’d murdered her mother. It didn’t even care that she didn’t wholly trust him—it only cared for the unchecked lust coursing through her veins. She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that she knew exactly what it felt like to have his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breasts, and his cock buried deep inside of her.
What she did know was that her body wanted all those things again.
Keris lifted his face and their eyes met, and what looked almost like panic filled his expression. “Lady Zarrah.” He inclined his head, eyes fixing on the ground before her.
“Your Highness.”
His throat moved as he swallowed, looking everywhere but at her. “Do you wish to go riding, Sara?”
The girl went still. “Truly? Auntie Coralyn will allow it?”
“I don’t intend to ask. Here, I’ve smuggled out all the things you’ll need.”
He stepped to his sister’s side, fastening a black cloak over her dress, and as he did, the spicy scent of his cologne filled the air. His sleeve brushed Zarrah’s bare arm as he straightened, sending a shiver running over her skin. She knew she should move, but the chance it might happen again kept her rooted in place. “Is there word from the Empress?”
Keris stiffened, and a flutter of unease filled Zarrah’s chest. Had something happened? Had her aunt given the Maridrinians reason to believe she wouldn’t negotiate? But he only said, “The Harendellians won’t even have reached Nerastis yet, much less—”
“What have you been doing these past days?” Sara interrupted. “Auntie Coralyn says that you are a two-copper courtesan as you sleep all day.”
Instead of laughing, Keris frowned, still avoiding Zarrah’s gaze. “I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been occupied.” He dropped to his knees and pulled off her delicate slippers.
“With what?”
Zarrah could have kissed the girl, for that was precisely what she wished to ask but couldn’t. Not with the guards within earshot.
“Unpacking my books.” He pulled tiny boots on her feet, jaw tight as he fastened the laces.
“But it’s been days since I’ve seen you.” The princess crossed her arms. “And we’ve servants for such things so that you might spend your time with me.”
“I’ve more important things to do than to keep you company!” he snapped.