They lay in silence, her forehead pressed against his chest, as they waited for Miri to bring word it was safe for them to depart. After a time, he noticed Zarrah’s breathing had slowed, a steady rise and fall against him. Asleep.
Keris’s chest tightened, sick on the emotions that churned within him, but as the fire burned low, he held her close, warding away the cold even if he was powerless to ward away the doubts that plagued her. Wishing that he could freeze time so as to live in this moment because Keris knew it wouldn’t last.
Sure enough, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the handle on the door twisted and swung open, Zarrah jerking awake as Daria appeared in the entrance. The woman gave them a once-over, then grinned. “Good to see you alive, Your Graces.”
TEARING AWAY FROM Keris, Zarrah straightened the cheap robe she wore, heat burning her
cheeks. “Likewise. We weren’t certain whether you escaped.”
“When you have been the prey as long as we have, you learn a few tricks for evading the
predators.”
“We are the predators now,” Zarrah answered, lifting her chin in defiance against the weakness that had plagued her.
“Says the woman hiding in a brothel.” Daria chuckled as she shut the door behind her, tossing garments onto the bed. “Though I’m pleased to see your spirit remains intact.” She winked at Keris.
“All painted up like a whore. It’s a fitting look for you, Your Grace.”
Ever nonplussed, Keris only lifted the trousers to inspect them. “How’s your stomach handling the change in diet, Captain?”
Zarrah tensed as Daria’s jaw tightened, but the other woman only bent to examine Keris’s injury.
“The Devil must have had his fill of your conversation while you were on the island, for when offered your soul, I see he spat it back out again.”
“No accounting for taste,” Keris answered, then turned away to pull on the clothes Daria had brought.
Zarrah quickly grabbed the other set, discarding the robe in favor of trousers, a blouse, and a sturdy vest.
“Our people will collect your things from the bathhouse,” Daria said to her. “His Grace’s
belongings are another matter, though. Welran’s soldiers took them in the hopes of using them to find you. Is there anything in them that speaks to your true identity?”
“Knives are Maridrinian make,” Keris answered. “Coin was a few different currencies, and the clothes were from Cardiff.”
“No letters? Jewelry?”
“No. Ahnna Kertell has my signet ring.”
Daria’s eyebrows rose. “And why is that?”
“She’s negotiating peace between Maridrina and Ithicana. My kingdom and council believe me in Ithicana, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Right.”
Daria rocked on her heels, seeming to consider this information, which Zarrah also found
interesting. It occurred to her that she was painfully lacking in the details of what Keris had been up to in the time they had been apart, which was something that needed to be remedied. “Do we know what information Welran has about what happened on the island?”
“Some,” Daria answered. “There were survivors, and they told those who came to their aid the identities of all the players, including that His Grace was there.” She jerked her chin at Keris. “So while they may not know where he is now, a princess with a signet ring certainly won’t deceive the Usurper into believing His Grace is in Ithicana.”
“Feel free to abandon titles,” Keris said, finally turning back around. “Given you’ve seen me in the nude, I feel we’re on first-name basis.”
Daria gave him a dark grin. “You might regret that.”
“Undoubtedly.” Keris’s eyes, still rimmed with soot, flicked to Zarrah.
He’s waiting for you to take control. Her cheeks burned, because she’d spent all her life being trained to lead, and it felt like she’d forgotten how. “Are you taking us to the commander?”
“Eventually. His location, as well as the location of the stronghold, is a much-sought-after secret, and tensions are high with today’s events. Accommodations need to be made to ensure we aren’t followed.”
“Does this commander have a name?” Keris asked.
Daria looked at her feet. “Sure. But that’s as much a secret as the rest.” Rolling her shoulders, she added, “I’ll leave him to share what information he sees fit.”
“We are the predators now,” Zarrah answered, lifting her chin in defiance against the weakness that Zarrah chewed on the insides of her cheeks. Other than rumors remembered in Ithicana and a vague statement made by Serin that she was the rightful heir, the commander appeared to be the only concrete source that her claim to Valcotta’s throne was legitimate. Who was he to have such information? Why was everyone certain that he was credible? The urge to press Daria was strong, but instead she said, “I look forward to it.”
A knock sounded at the door behind Daria. “It’s me,” a familiar voice said; then the door opened, and Saam stepped inside. He smiled nervously at Zarrah, giving an awkward bow. “Empress.” Then his eyes lighted on Keris, awkwardness disappearing as he handed him a pair of boots. “I knew it was you. Soon as I heard that some straw-haired pale-arsed Maridrinian scrapped with Welran, I
said, ‘Friends, that is Maridrina’s king and none other. The man has balls of solid rock and the nine lives of a cat.’”
Zarrah quickly grabbed the other set, discarding the robe in favor of trousers, a blouse, and a sturdy Keris huffed out an amused breath. “I think only a handful of those lives are left. Good to see you alive, Saam.”
“Daria thought you were done for, but I said, nah, an arrow won’t be enough.”
“God spare me, enough already,” Daria said, pulling the bag from Saam’s hand and handing it to Zarrah. “Your things.”
“Right. Sorry.” Saam gave another awkward bow. “Empress.”
“Zarrah,” she swiftly corrected. “One needs to be legally crowned before claiming the title.”
“The Usurper is illegally crowned and still claims the title,” he answered. “So seems just enough for you to, Imperial Majesty.” Bowing yet again, he then slung an arm around Keris, hauling him out the door. “Spent the whole of the voyage back telling all who’d listen, which was everyone aboard, about your mad plan on the island.”
Their voices disappeared down the hallway, leaving Zarrah alone with Daria, the tension instantly ratcheting higher in Keris’s absence. And it was no wonder, given the way she’d treated the other woman after discovering the rebel prisoners’ method of survival. Zarrah had been so horrified and disgusted that she’d run into the arms of the enemy instead of pausing to listen to explanation.
Whereas Keris had apparently handled it well enough to make jokes about it.
But Zarrah was also reminded of her conversation with Lara. She needed to make a choice about her relationship with the Devil’s Island prisoners with a clear eye to the consequences. “How has it been, being back? Have you been treated well?”
Daria was quiet. “Well enough.”
Zarrah could guess what that meant. The prisoners were treated with cool courtesy, but it was not
“Feel free to abandon titles,” Keris said, finally turning back around. “Given you’ve seen me in the the homecoming they’d hoped for.
“You should put your hood up,” Daria said. “The search has moved elsewhere, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be watching.”
Pulling on her cloak, Zarrah lifted the hood into place, Daria doing the same. “I’m sorry,” she said as they followed the sound of Saam’s laughter. “For how I reacted. For not listening to your side of the story.” She considered Keris’s joke, and added, “For being so self-righteous.”
Daria was silent until they reached the stairs. “It was a horrible thing that we did,” she finally said.
“That’s why we kept you out of it, because we knew that we couldn’t afford your reputation to be tarnished by such behavior. That we couldn’t give the Usurper anything that might be used against you.