Aren frowned, turning his head outward to listen, the sound of the protests Keris’s men had incited a dull roar in the distance.
“A rumor is swirling that you are being tortured for information about how my father might defeat Eranahl,” Keris said. “Such dreadful ideas the masses come up with while cooped up during storms. Idle hands may do the devil’s work, but idle minds…”
Achieved Keris’s ends.
“I’m surprised they care.”
“Are you?” Keris wrinkled his nose, the humbleness of Aren’s words ringing false. “My aunt believes you to be cleverer than you look, but I’m beginning to question her judgment.”
“Did you just call me stupid?”
Given my sister played you like a fiddle, I can only assume she loves you for your looks, Keris thought, though he said, “If the shoe fits…”
Aren didn’t rise to the barb, wheels turning behind his hazel eyes, albeit somewhat more slowly than Keris would like. Especially given they were short on time. “Allow me to help you along. Would you say that understanding the nature of the Ithicanian people was key to you ruling them successfully?”
“I didn’t rule them successfully.”
That, you did not. “Don’t be morose.”
Aren glowered at him, but whether the man liked him or not mattered little. He needed Aren brought back to life and to the forefront of the game, and if it took anger to do it, then so be it. His effort was rewarded as Aren snapped, “Obviously it was key.”
“Extrapolate. I’ll know from the expression on your face when you come to an understanding.”
Aren closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he thought.
Think faster, Keris silently shouted at him. We don’t have much time. Then Aren huffed out a quiet breath of understanding. “Finally!” Keris clapped his hands as though in mockery, though in reality, it was a signal to Lestara. “I thought I might have to wait all morning.”
“The Maridrinian people don’t want the bridge.”
“That they do not. They’ve gained nothing from it, but it has cost them a great deal.”
It was like watching fireworks over the harbor, realization after realization flashing over Aren’s face. Unable to help himself from taking shots at the other man, Keris said, “I imagine this is how parents feel when their child learns to speak. It’s tremendously satisfying to see this display of intelligence from you, Your Grace.”
“Be quiet,” Aren replied, still deep in thought as he mulled through the revelations, and Keris waited for him to understand why his father was so desperate for Eranahl to fall. Then Aren asked, “When will the money run out?”
Keris smiled at a pair of his little sisters as they twirled past him, both girls grinning at him, well aware he was up to something, if not what. “The coffers, I’m afraid to say, are completely dry.” Spent paying Amarid for the use of their navy. Spent on Harendellian steel weapons. Spent on paying the wages of thousands of Maridrinian soldiers. And paying the death payments to the families of those who’d fallen.
“You seem remarkably pleased to be heir to a nearly bankrupt kingdom.”
“Better that than a grave.”
Aren made a noncommittal noise, so Keris added, “If Eranahl surrenders, my father won’t need the Amaridian navy any longer. And given he’s unlikely to be merciful to those surrendering, Ithicana will no longer be a threat to Maridrina’s control of the bridge. My father’s position will be the most powerful it has ever been. So you see, Your Grace, a great deal is dependent on the continued survival of your little island fortress.”
“First and foremost, your ability to take the Maridrinian crown from your father by way of a coup.”
Keris didn’t blink. “First and foremost, my life. The coup and crown are merely a means to an end.” A truth and a lie in one, for if Lara delivered, no coup would be required. But he couldn’t reveal her involvement to Aren.
“You’re risking a great deal telling me any of this,” Aren said. “And I fail to see to what end. My involvement changes nothing. If anything, my death will serve to turn your people further against your father. But I also know we wouldn’t be having this conversation if there wasn’t something you wanted from me.”
This is the moment. And yet despite all the work he’d put toward getting here, Keris found himself unable to voice his request, because it would put Valcotta at risk. Serin might again put Aren to torture, and the king might well give her up in an effort to end his pain.
But it appeared Aren did have a brain between his ears, because he said, softly enough that only Keris could hear, “Zarrah.”
How had he guessed? Unease rolled through Keris’s chest, but he had to press forward. Had to bait him with the truth so that he’d believe the lie. Keris gave the slightest nod of affirmation, knowing it wasn’t just Serin’s people watching, but Lestara, who’d report everything back to the harem.
“You want me to arrange for her escape.”
Keris nodded again, watching as Aren mulled over the confirmation of what he suspected the Ithicanian had guessed long ago. How did he know? he wondered. What gave it away?
Had anyone else seen what Aren had seen?
“Why do you believe I’d risk my own people to save her when I’m not even willing to risk them to save my own skin?”
He’d taken the bait of the truth, and now Keris needed to hook him with a lie.
“Because,” Keris said, “if you do it, she’s promised Eranahl will be supplied with enough food to outlast my father’s siege.”
“I can’t see the Empress agreeing to that.”
“Zarrah’s a powerful woman, and the deal is with her, not the Empress. Take it or leave it.”
She’d be furious at him for making the promise without consulting her, despite the fact that speaking with her had been impossible. But Keris didn’t care. Would stoop low and sacrifice every drop of his own honor if that was what it took to get her out of this place.
“Allying with your kingdom’s greatest enemy to win the crown.” He gave a low whistle. “If your people discover that bit of information, it will cost you.”
Aren wanted this to work. Keris could see it in his eyes, the glitter of hope where he’d believed there was none. Guilt rose in Keris’s chest at the deception, but he quashed it. If Lara succeeded in assassinating their father, Aren wouldn’t need Valcotta’s help—he’d have the King of Maridrina’s. “Agreed. Which is why it’s much better for both of us if it’s perceived that you and yours were responsible for liberating her.”
“You’ve access to my people now. You don’t need me for this.”
Keris grimaced, deeply wishing that was the case. “Serin doesn’t trust me, so I’m under near-constant surveillance when I leave the palace, which means I can’t contact your people directly. I need the harem to facilitate communication. But here’s the rub: they despise Valcottans, so there isn’t a chance of them agreeing to this plan of mine.” He probably could contact them himself, but he didn’t trust that they wouldn’t reveal his request to free Valcotta to Coralyn.