His eyes drifted over the words. “Yes.”
But as he picked up the pen to sign, his half sister caught hold of his wrist. “This is folly that you can’t afford.”
Keris didn’t answer, only prised her fingers off his wrist and signed his name. Pulling the ring Aren Belting on his sword, Keris clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thank you.” Then he went back on had returned to him off his finger, he sealed the order in red wax. “Dax,” he said. “If it comes to it, you must swear that you watched me sign and seal this with my own hand, understood?”
His bodyguard leaned forward to read the alteration to Maridrinian law that was old as time.
“Bloody hell, you do like to kick the hornet’s nest.” Then he huffed out a breath. “You won’t need a witness. Everyone will know you’re behind this.”
“Because it’s stupidity,” Sarhina snarled, sprinkling sand over the wet ink to dry it while blowing on the wax. “And it will be the death of me.” She carefully packaged the document. “Excuse me, Your
“Her blockade still holds,” Aren said. “Reports say there are ten ships on patrol, though Maridrina Grace, I need to leave before I succumb to my burning desire to remove your heart.”
She stormed away, law in hand. Keris gave a faint smile at her back because he’d seen the care she’d taken with the order, the paper carefully rolled up in a waxed wrapping to keep it safe from the weather. No matter what happened here, Sarhina would see it through.
Out the window, Nerastis appeared in his line of sight as Aren captained the vessel into the harbor, and Keris returned to the quarterdeck. The docks were filled with soldiers in Maridrinian uniforms, cloaks hanging sodden in the rain, which fell harder now, pinging against his armored shoulders.
He’d won them over once before when he’d refused his father’s orders to abandon Nerastis, but what goodwill had been earned then would be vanquished by the sacking of Vencia, for there was little doubt that the news had traveled ahead of him.
He’d left openings for those like Lestara to make their moves. His misstep had cost many of them their homes. Lives of friends and family. They had no reason to follow him anywhere, and he didn’t think speeches would work on these battle-hardened men.
Keris didn’t know what he was going to do. Didn’t know what he was going to say.
The sails lowered, the ship drifting toward the dock. Keris recognized some of the men waiting, helmets tucked under their arms, hair plastered to their faces. How would he convince them to do this?
Needing to move, he made his way down to the main deck, where the Ithicanians were tossing lines to those on the docks and readying a gangplank. His own few soldiers massed on deck behind him, their faces unreadable, although he could smell the sweat of nerves. Had heard the whispered comments between them on the journey south that this would result in a coup against the crown. That world seeming to stand still despite the violence of the seas and fierce snapping of the banners above he’d be deposed. That he’d forever be known as the Veliant with the shortest reign in history.
Keris swallowed hard, the slam of the gangplank against the dock making him twitch, though a lifetime of practice kept his nerves off his face. “You will remain with Princess Sarhina,” he said to Keris blinked, for a heartbeat thinking that he’d imagined it, only for another ball of light to bloom. his soldiers. “She and her family are to be protected at all costs. Am I understood?”
The men blinked in surprise, one of them saying, “But, Your Grace—”
“Sarhina is your charge,” he repeated, then stepped onto the gangplank and strode down to the dock.
Captain Philo stepped out to meet him, bowing. “Your Grace.”
“Captain.”
“We received word about Vencia.” Philo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “We were prepared for an inland incursion to take the land north of Nerastis, which has long been the region Valcotta coveted. Not …” He swallowed again. “We were not prepared, Your Grace.”
“I have learned that it is difficult to prepare against the mind of a monster,” Keris answered. “Petra Anaphora attacked a city full of civilians. A city of little strategic value. A city she knew she couldn’t hold, which is why she didn’t bother to try. But she was not without her reasons for doing so.” His throat tightened, but Keris forced himself to add, “Our enemies exploited my distraction, which means Keris didn’t answer, only prised her fingers off his wrist and signed his name. Pulling the ring Arenthe fault is mine, not yours.”
Philo gave a slow blink, and then his mouth twisted into a grimace.
Blame had already been cast.
A bead of sweat rolled down Keris’s spine, swiftly followed by another, because he deserved to be blamed. It had been his fault, and he deserved their ire. But he couldn’t allow it to fall down upon him now, not when Zarrah was marching to war and expecting him to have her back. Without his army, it would be lambs to the slaughter for the rebels against the full weight of Petra’s army.
on the wax. “And it will be the death of me.” She carefully packaged the document. “Excuse me, Your Think.
Say something.
“The Valcottans sent an emissary yesterday,” Philo said, breaking the silence. “He told us that the attack on Vencia was retaliation for your involvement with plots to release dangerous criminals imprisoned on Devil’s Island into the civilian population of Pyrinat and your support of a coup in the Out the window, Nerastis appeared in his line of sight as Aren captained the vessel into the harbor, south.” The captain’s jaw tightened. “The emissary committed to a truce in Nerastis on the condition that we refrain from raiding. And from meddling with Valcottan affairs. The emissary warned that if we violated the terms in any way, the full might of the Valcottan army would be brought to bear upon this garrison.”
That fucking clever—
“We agreed to it, though with this attack on their fleet”—he gestured to the burning ships in the distance—“I think it fair to say the truce is over.”
Keris exhaled slowly because the alternative was to scream. And scream and scream because
Petra had outmatched him, again. Outplayed him, again. And it would be Zarrah and the rebels who paid the price, though it would not stop there … “There won’t be a truce,” he said. “It is merely a stratagem to keep Maridrina from retaliating while she deals with the rebels contesting her rule. By agreeing to it, we would be playing into Petra’s hands. What we need to do is—”
“Support a coup to put your lover on the throne?” a familiar baritone called out from behind the Needing to move, he made his way down to the main deck, where the Ithicanians were tossing linesranks of Keris’s soldiers.
Slowly, the men parted, though they did not need to do so to reveal Welran, Petra’s bodyguard a head taller than all those around. Unarmed, and wearing only a Valcottan uniform, Welran strolled through the Maridrinian soldiers, expression amused. He was the emissary, the one who had duped Keris’s army into believing Petra would hold to a truce. “So we meet again, Your Grace.”
I should have killed you in Arakis, was the first thought that came to Keris’s mind, but he kept the fear from his face and instead dusted an invisible piece of lint from his cloak. “Well, if it isn’t Petra’s inamorato in the flesh. I was so dreadfully sorry to hear of the fate of your progeny, though in fairness, Bermin was a few stones short of a load, so it’s no one’s loss. Shame Petra’s past her prime, else you might have tried again. That was my father’s strategy.”
Welran’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Indeed. Yet for all the warriors Silas fathered, it was you who took the crown. The brilliant, bookish genius who, rather than raising Maridrina up high, has brought it to ruin.”
“We received word about Vencia.” Philo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “We were prepared for