“We don’t have time for that,” Keris said, but both men ignored him, Aren rubbing his chin as he said, “The Valcottans will attack naval vessels of any nation they discover in their waters. Merchant vessel would attract less notice.”
“We’ll still risk them boarding to check cargo, and we haven’t”—Lara glanced at Keris—“the time to secure an appropriate one at Southwatch.” She tilted her head, eyes thoughtful. “Petra isn’t stupid.
She will learn Keris has come to Ithicana and will anticipate we’ll assist him, and Ithicana is known for stealth. So we choose something large and obvious and entirely uncharacteristic. A passenger vessel, so the Valcottan navy won’t sink us first and ask questions later.”
“We aren’t in the habit of commandeering passenger vessels,” Jor said, “because we aren’t in the habit of murdering civilians. As it is, I’m not sold on risking relations with Valcotta for the sake of a woman convicted for treason for banging pelvises with his Royal Prettiness.”
“It’s not that simple—”
“Unlike your shit-for-brains husband, I’m too old to race off on personal vendettas, girl,” Jor said.
“Petra might have left us in the lurch with the Maridrinians, but she’s not caused Ithicana trouble during her reign except when we started choosing sides. She was close with Aren’s mother. I’m going to need more justification that this is warranted before I agree to piss in her porridge.”
Keris opened his mouth to tell the old bastard that the decision wasn’t his, then thought better of it and switched tactics. “How is this for justification? Petra arranged for Aryana Anaphora’s murder.”
When all eyes moved to him, he added, “At least, according to Serin. Before he jumped, he told me that Petra leaked information of her whereabouts to him, and he gave them to my father. My father raided across the border and murdered Aryana, cementing the foundation of a twisted sort of trust between Serin and Petra. Which is why she believed his letter about certain”—he gave Jor a long look—“pelvic unions.”
Jor smirked, but Lara said, “Serin is a liar. We’ve no reason to believe anything that passed his lips.”
Serin hadn’t been lying. Until the last of his days, Keris would remember the delight in that creature’s eyes as he delivered the truth, relishing Keris’s horror as he fell down and down to splatter against the paving stones. “My father … he spoke of Petra in a way quite at odds with how she Not giving Aren a chance to respond, Keris rounded back on Ahnna. “There is endless blame to be presents herself to Valcotta.” Petra is a hard woman, his father’s voice echoed up from memory. If cast, Princess, but direct it where it is due, not at the easiest mark. And keep in mind that the man who you believe her swayed by sentiment, you are sorely mistaken. Shaking his head to clear it, Keris added, “And Serin said something else that was interesting. He called Aryana the true and rightful heir. If that’s true, it means that Zarrah is the rightful Empress of Valcotta, not Petra.”
The older man who sat at the far end of the table, and who had been entirely silent until now, spoke. “There was a rumor, once, that Aryana had been the Emperor’s choice.” Resting his elbows on and lifted one scuffed boot to rest itthe table, he added, “He was sick for many years before he died, and Petra ran the empire in his stead as she was the commander of his armies. His general. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she would be his chosen heir and his champion in the Endless War. Yet after he passed, there were whispers that his dying wish was for a cessation of conflict. Whispers that he’d written the order that Aryana rise as empress.”
“I’ve never heard anything about this,” Aren said, then glanced to Jor.
Jor shook his head and said, “You were an idiot child, boy. My every waking breath in that era was dedicated to keeping you alive. The sun could have risen in the west and set in the east without me taking notice.”
“Anything else you can remember, Aster?” Aren asked, and Keris’s ears pricked at the name.
Where had he heard it before?
Raina’s father. It was no wonder he’d been glowering at Keris, given that he’d been culpable in her death.
“We’ll still risk them boarding to check cargo, and we haven’t”—Lara glanced at Keris—“the time
“The whispers faded,” the man—Aster—answered. “I’m not sure I heard much of anything about Aryana until years later when Silas cut off her head, turning her into a martyr in the Endless War.
Even when Zarrah came of age, it was almost forgotten that she wasn’t Petra’s own daughter.”
Zarrah had loved her like a mother; Keris knew that. Had seen the hollowness left behind when she’d realized Petra was abandoning her for the sake of politics. His father had been a piece of shit, but at least he’d never pretended otherwise. Never deluded any of his children into thinking that he cared, and in Keris’s mind, that made him the lesser evil.
“As fascinating as I find rooting through Valcotta’s dirty laundry, perhaps you might explain to me why we give a shit,” Jor said, crossing his arms. “And the answer had better not be that we intend to meddle.”
“Agreed,” Lara said. “I’ll help get Zarrah out of that place, but no more.”
during her reign except when we started choosing sides. She was close with Aren’s mother. I’m going Aren frowned, staring at the liquid in his glass. Then his eyes flicked to Keris’s. “What are you planning?”
He had no plans beyond freeing her from that place, everything afterward a dream that he’d never given voice. “I have no right to plan Zarrah’s future. Only the intent to give her a chance at one.”
Or die trying.
“Then why bring up her right to the crown?”
“Because he’s playing a long game.” Lara poured a glass of wine, sniffed the contents, and then wrinkled her nose, setting it aside. “He wants her on the Valcottan throne. Firstly, because he thinks she deserves it, and secondly, because it’s the only chance for this war to end in our lifetimes. The only way the Valcottans will support Zarrah’s claim is if we reveal the information about Aryana.
Except this is Zarrah. Her honor will demand vengeance, and her first thought will be to put a knife in Petra’s heart, not politics. Her last thought will be to listen to reason from the man who betrayed creature’s eyes as he delivered the truth, relishing Keris’s horror as he fell down and down to splatter her trust and destroyed her chance to redeem her honor with Ithicana.”
Lara picked up the bottle nearest to Keris and sniffed it, frowning. “All this wine is off. How are you drinking it?” She waved a hand at him before he had a chance to answer. “Never mind. Aren, Keris wants you to temper Zarrah’s instinct to race to Pyrinat to try to kill her aunt and then for you to back her bid for the crown, politically and militarily. Have I missed anything, Keris?”
“The wine is fine,” he answered, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “There’s something wrong with your nose.”
spoke. “There was a rumor, once, that Aryana had been the Emperor’s choice.” Resting his elbows on
“It smells like wet dog, but suit yourself.” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder and gave her the table, he added, “He was sick for many years before he died, and Petra ran the empire in his stead husband a measured glare. “The worst part isn’t that he’s trying to manipulate you, but that you are considering doing exactly what he wants.”
“I said nothing, committed to nothing,” Aren protested. “And this wine is from one of the finest wineries in Amarid. It cost a bloody fortune.”
“And you brought it out of the cellar just for me?” Keris examined the bottle, which was indeed an excellent vintage. “I’m touched.”
Jor shook his head and said, “You were an idiot child, boy. My every waking breath in that era was
“I brought it out for me. ”
“Of course you did, Your Grace. Nothing like a bit of wine to calm your nerves over hosting a king with a bigger palace than yours.”