It should have been, but it wasn’t.
“Choose now,” the Usurper said. “Or the choice will be made for you, and it will be both. Prove to Valcotta that you value your nation and your people over your lover.”
Zarrah stiffened, for it was as though the Usurper had read her mind. If she chose Keris in front of so many witnesses, she’d lose all credibility. For who would want an empress who valued her lover’s life over that of her people?
She couldn’t save everyone. She had to choose.
Her throat tried to strangle the words, her tongue to freeze in place, but Zarrah’s voice was clear as she said, “I choose my people.”
The ranks of soldiers parted to allow the drummers through, and then the Usurper appeared. Riding The Usurper dropped her reins and pressed a hand to her heart. “I knew you would make the right choice.” Turning her head, she gestured to Sephra. “Send riders on the north road to meet Welran. Tell him to gut the rat on the side of the road, then stake him out as carrion for the scavengers to feast upon.”
Sephra saluted, and the Usurper’s attention moved back to Zarrah. “I will not be so cruel as to make you watch. The rat will disappear from existence, and in time, it will be as though none of this happened.”
A hot tear slipped down Zarrah’s cheek as she watched Sephra leave the stadium. She’d killed him.
The Usurper tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “You cannot win this, Zarrah. You placed your faith in Killed him, and in doing so, cut out her own heart. Honor and duty might carry her forward, but she’d never recover. And she’d certainly never forget.
“Put down the knife,” the Usurper said. “Come to me, and we shall heal from this ordeal together.”
own crown, for it was his own army, his own people, who gave him over to Welran in Nerastis. Keris
“Not yet,” Zarrah answered. “First there are matters you and I need to discuss.”
Silence stretched, the only sound the shuffling of the soldiers. The stomping of horses’ hooves. The Usurper exhaled, and it was written all over her face that this was not a conversation she wished to have. But then she inclined her head. “As you like. Put down the knife and I will come up.”
“Trust needs to be earned, Auntie,” Zarrah answered. “Tell your soldiers to back up and I’ll throw down my knife.”
A huff of annoyance pulled from the Usurper’s lips, but she made a sharp gesture. “Retreat a dozen yards but”—she gave Zarrah a long look—“be wary of a trap.”
“Farther,” Zarrah demanded, heart pounding because her aunt sensed she was up to something, her eyes gleaming with suspicion. “This conversation is between you and me.”
The Usurper hesitated, then gave a curt nod, and soon the ranks of soldiers were retreating down the pitch. Close enough for them to come to her aunt’s aid if there was an attack but far enough away that her aunt could speak freely without fear of being overheard.
Zarrah smiled, then tossed her knife onto the stadium turf, along with her staff. Holding up her hands, she said, “I’m unarmed.”
“You’re too well trained to ever be unarmed,” the Usurper answered. “Move to the far side of the table, dear one.”
She’s afraid of me.
Nodding, Zarrah climbed the steps into the pavilion, circling into the position of the game master, then waited for the Usurper to come to stand on the opposite side of the stone slab.
The trap was sprung, the steel claws descending, but the Usurper was not caught yet.
“If there is to be trust between us, Auntie, there must be honesty. Which means that I need to hear the truth from your lips.”
The Usurper’s eyes narrowed. “Just what truth do you think I’m withholding?”
“The truth about my mother’s fate.”
Prove to
Silence.
The Usurper’s face was unmoved, but Zarrah could feel the wheels turning in her head. The
calculation. Monster she might be, but a brilliant monster who’d hidden her true nature for a very long time. She would do everything in her power to keep it that way. Which meant that Zarrah had to be wary.
“You were there, Zarrah. With your own eyes, you watched Silas Veliant slaughter Aryana.
place, but Zarrah’s voice was clear asWatched him put her up on a cross for the carrion crows to feast upon while her blood rained down upon you at its base. Watched me gallop into the villa. Watched me untie you. Heard me promise you vengeance.”
choice.” Turning her head, she gestured to Sephra. “Send riders on the north road to meet Welran. Tell
“True,” Zarrah answered, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the Usurper’s and not look beyond.
“But how did Silas know we were there?”
“The Magpie’s spies. For all he was a disgusting little creature, Serin was a worthy spymaster.”
“Indeed. Although from his own lips, Serin told Keris that it was you who revealed that my mother and I were at the villa without a bodyguard. You used Silas as your assassin, which he was more than glad to be.”
A hot tear slipped down Zarrah’s cheek as she watched Sephra leave the stadium. She’d killed him.
“Lies!” The Usurper slammed her palms down on the stone slab, and despite herself, Zarrah
flinched. “Lies! Time and again, you take everything the rat said as truth rather than open your eyes to his manipulation.”
“Keris wasn’t lying.”
The Usurper snorted. “Believe that if you must, but if that’s the case, then he was deceived by Serin.”
“I don’t think so.” Zarrah pressed her sweat-slicked palms to the tabletop. “That was why you believed him when he sent word that Keris and I were lovers. You and he had an understanding, a trust cemented by complicity.”
The Usurper’s voice shook with rage as she said, “You have been misled. I loved my younger sister. Love you, with all my heart, despite all the villainy you’ve enacted against me. What cause would I have to see you both killed? What did I stand to gain?”
Lifting her hand from the table, Zarrah reached into her cloak pocket and removed the duplicate proclamation her grandfather had written naming her mother as heir, keeping her voice low as she placed it on the table. “Because my mother was the rightful heir to the Valcottan Empire.”
The Usurper’s eyes raked over the aged document. The signature. The seal imprinted with the Emperor’s ring. “You’ve been given a forgery.”
She belied her words by reaching to take the page, and Zarrah drew it away. “I don’t think so, Auntie.”
Fury flared on the Usurper’s face, only to vanish in a heartbeat. “Did you come here to surrender or not, Zarrah? For this feels very little like surrender.”
“I came for the truth.”
“And yet you seem content to believe lies.”
Zarrah stared at this woman she’d once loved like a mother. Her savior and salvation. For the first time, it occurred to her that the Usurper believed her own lies, lived in her own delusion of the truth.
“Near the end of his reign, my grandfather, Emperor Ephraim Anaphora, voiced his desire to see an end to the Endless War. To work toward peace with Maridrina, for he was tired of the slaughter.
Tired of thousands of children growing up as orphans. Tired of the violence. So rather than naming you, the daughter who lived and breathed the war to the point it had become her identity, as heir, he named his younger daughter. My mother, Aryana, was like-minded to him and desired peace above all else. Yet rather than acceding to your father’s wishes, when you learned of his intent, you rallied the calculation. Monster she might be, but a brilliant monster who’d hidden her true nature for a very longofficers in the military loyal to you and usurped the crown. When he died, you arranged for the assassination of all witnesses to the signing of the declaration, then destroyed the document itself, not realizing that my mother was in possession of the second.”