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the result would’ve been the same: the taciturn silence of two men well aware that each wished the other dead.
though the rumors surrounding him were at odds with his recent actions. Actions that had the Maridrinian people singing his name in the streets,
Keris’s younger sister—his only full-blooded sibling in the sea of half sisters and brothers produced by his father’s harem.
The seas are swarming with Valcottan vessels, and the last thing I need is for my heir to be killed.” “Given my eight predecessors are in their graves, I’d think you’d be used to that by now.” The words sneaked out, and Keris immediately braced for the blow,
The same helplessness she’d felt ten years ago when Silas Veliant had murdered her mother and left Zarrah for dead.
alone or protected by solid walls and a locked door. He’d been stabbed in the back—literally—too many times for that. Such was the nature of being a Maridrinian prince, the sheer number of brothers ensuring constant jockeying for position, which often meant eliminating the competition.
“Peace is like a dance,” he said softly. “It only works if both partners are listening to the same music.” And Maridrina only knew the drums of war.
As Keris watched, several stood, pulling on their boots, appearing entirely more sober than they should be, given the wine bottles scattered about them.
But we must nurture our rage. Must temper it into a weapon that we will use against the Maridrinians when the time to attack is right. And your rage, dear one”—she reached across the space between them to cup Zarrah’s cheek—“will be the sharpest blade of them all.
“The nobility are not the people.” Her aunt tapped Zarrah’s nose. “And love means little in politics.”
Do it, and your life will be safe.” Except losing wasn’t what made Keris’s blood run cold; it was that he knew he could win.
Because this was Nerastis: lawless and dangerous and miserable, and though both Valcotta and Maridrina fought endlessly to possess it, neither did anything to improve it.
Curiosity had always been his greatest vice, and he plucked and pried tidbits of information from the men around the table, storing them away for later consideration.
His eyes, rendered colorless in the darkness, regarded her steadily. “And just because Valcotta is Maridrina’s enemy doesn’t make you mine.”
The only thing that can be said with certainty is that an emperor and a king long dead both wanted this land and had too much pride in their hearts to split it down the middle.
All his adult life, he’d been espousing the virtues of peace and been called a coward for believing in such ideals. But never once had he been called a coward for not acting on them.
You rode into battle and took down Bermin Anaphora, for fuck’s sake. The empress’s son and one of the most formidable fighters in Nerastis—you!
I feel sick with guilt for not having prevented it. And…” Valcotta hesitated, then blurted out, “Have you ever had an idea lodge in your thoughts like a spark, and rather than your efforts extinguishing it, they only cause it to burst into flame? And for those flames to illuminate the world in such a way that you half wondered if you’d been blind before?” “Yes.” Because her words had lit a spark in his own mind,
there isn’t a person in the palace who doesn’t know how her temper flared over you deigning to give yourself one night of liberty after our victory. She controls every aspect of your being,
Because if I don’t, not only do I risk losing everything I’ve worked for, but I risk losing myself.” “Or maybe you’ll find yourself.”
“You told me once that if you truly believe in something, you should be willing to suffer for it. To die for it. Well, I think that if you truly believe in something, you should live for it.”
All the women accepted it, except for my mother. She tried to go after my sister to get her back, but she was caught. My father strangled her to death in front of me and the rest of the harem to make a point to us of what happened to those who crossed him.
but there is one thing we know for certain: Her heart and loyalty belong to Aren Kertell.”
And your life matters infinitely more to me than his death.”
Matters of the heart do not bow to logic or reason. Anyone who does not understand that has either never lived or is devoid of a heart themselves.”
and I can’t help but wonder if Petra raised Zarrah as she did to spite her sister. For how better to do so than to turn the daughter of the woman who fought so tirelessly for peace into a leader in the Endless War?”
And it was Petra’s orders that there would be no pursuit. No rescue. Which suggests she either fears the repercussions of invading Maridrina to retrieve her niece or that she doesn’t care enough about her niece to bother doing so.
The moment you arrived in Vencia with Zarrah Anaphora in tow, you stepped into the arena. Now you have a choice: You can fight for the crown, or you can lie down and die.”
But what if they were given the information they needed? What if he helped them orchestrate an escape for Aren? And what if Aren took Valcotta with him?
“Why? He has no reason to trust us and many reasons not to.” “Because you’re going to give him certainty with the knowledge you have a common enemy.” She stared at him for a long moment. “The Magpie.” At his nod, she cocked her head.
And though no one has given you a weapon, you are still a warrior,
His hand slipped through the bars to cup her face. “I’d fallen for you before I knew your name. You are everything I can never be. You are powerful and strong and brave. You make me believe I can be better. You give me hope. You are my hope.”
especially with the rebels in the south contesting her right to the crown at all, for there are many who believe it was not she who was the chosen heir but rather her younger sister.” He jerked his chin at Zarrah. “Her mother.”
Hated her for pulling her precious son away from the path she intended for him. The path to the throne.
do want to remake the world so that I can be with you. So that I can get down on my knees and ask you to be my wife. So that I can put a crown on your head and make you my queen.
“I love you, Valcotta. I will have you or I will have no one, because where you go, my heart goes with you.” For a long moment, she could barely breathe, much less speak, then she said, “I want you to call me Zarrah now. Because there will be no more walls between us. No bars. And no borders.” “Zarrah.” His voice caught, and he repeated, “Zarrah.”
“If there are words for how I feel about you, I’ve never heard them. Never seen them written in any of the thousands of books I’ve read.”
Where an idea could grow into reality, because for all this city was the heart of the conflict between the two nations, it was also populated by people who set aside politics every night and lived as one.
Only survivor was a boy, who said the man called the Maridrinian woman his wife.”
her aunt presenting herself in a way that was wholly unfamiliar to Zarrah. And that, more than the lie itself, put her on edge.
Silence. “And if I say that Valcotta’s support is contingent on her death?” “No.”
Zarrah thought, and left the palace. In pursuit of an alliance with Ithicana. And treason to Valcotta.
So Zarrah only covered his hand with hers and said, “No one can predict the future, Your Grace. Fate favors the strong. God rewards the good. And the stars never abandon those who dream of more.”
Couldn’t stand by and watch her aunt raze Vencia to the ground. Couldn’t stand by and watch the Endless War orphan another generation of children.
Except what made Aren Kertell a better man than Silas Veliant would ultimately be his downfall. And the end of Ithicana.
Unable to get on the ship that would deliver him back to the safety of Vencia while dozens upon dozens of his people died as part of his strategy. His plan. His war.
Watched her realize that none of this was the behavior of Silas Veliant. And saw the moment she realized whom she’d really gone to war with.
His voice shook. “We could change our world, Zarrah. Create a peace between two nations who’ve been at war for generations. Save thousands of our people’s lives. But that doesn’t come without sacrifice, and that sacrifice is Ithicana.”
“I swear to pursue lasting peace and true alliances. To listen to my people and be their voice.
You gave your father a perfect plan, but you bet on his failure. Or, to be more accurate, bet on your sister’s desire to atone.” It was Keris’s turn to laugh, though it was entirely feigned.
