No one on the ship spoke as they climbed into the small boat, which was lowered into the water, Jor taking the oars.
“Be wary,” Zarrah said. “Word I was bringing you here might have raced ahead of us on good horses or faster sails. The Magpie might well be waiting for you.”
Aren instinctively touched the weapons at his waist, keeping his eyes on the shore for any signs of motion in the moonlight.
But there was nothing.
“I’ll remain here in Nerastis until the last possible hour so the Maridrinians don’t suspect,” Zarrah said. “Then I’ll sail north and anchor my fleet off your coast, as we agreed. As soon as we receive your signal, we’ll move on Southwatch Island.”
“You’re sure,” he asked for the dozenth time, “that they’ll follow your orders?”
Zarrah nodded. “I’m the Empress’s chosen heir. None will believe I’d jeopardize my position by going against her wishes. They’ll follow me unquestioningly.”
“Beach,” Jor muttered. “Stay quiet.”
The surf pushed them up on shore, Jor and Aren hopping out to pull it farther from the water.
“I’ll keep watch,” Lara whispered, then pulled a knife and scampered up the beach into the darkness. Aren watched her go, afraid it would be the last time he saw her. That instead of saying good-bye, she’d slip away into the night.
Zarrah handed him a bag of supplies. “Good luck, Your Grace. I look forward to fighting alongside Ithicana.”
He watched as Jor pushed the boat deeper into the water. Zarrah put her back into the oars, and the vessel faded into the darkness. Then they walked up the beach to the base of the steep, brush-covered hill.
Lara materialized out of the darkness, and the three of them stood together in the silence. Jor cleared his throat. “There’s a village just north of here. I’ll go scout it for a vessel that will serve our purposes.”
Aren nodded, but before Jor could move, Lara reached out a hand, catching hold of the old soldier’s arm. “Goodbye, Jor.”
“Goodbye, Lara.” Jor inclined his head. “Thank you for getting him back for us.” Then he took off at a run down the beach.
They stood in silence, the only sound the roar of the surf and the wind rustling in the bushes. Finally, he asked, “Will you tell me where you plan to go?”
“Likely I’ll lay low for a time. Stay close to the coast so I can be the first to hear how the battle goes. Hopefully I won’t have cause to regret leaving you to your own devices.”
Ignoring the jest, Aren closed the distance between them. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”
She was quiet, the moonlight turning her hair and skin silver. “He needs to die.”
“I know, but it doesn’t need to be you who does it. Let Keris earn that crown he wants so badly—it’s about time he got his hands dirty.” Aren lifted a hand, cupping the side of her face. “I have enough to worry about without you attempting to assassinate Silas. It’s bad enough that I have to—”
He broke off, leaving the last unsaid. Bad enough that I have to let you go.
“If I can kill my father, this might well end without a fight. If Keris is so keen on peace, he’ll pull out of Ithicana and turn his head toward his grander ambitions with Zarrah and Valcotta.”
“Or you might be captured and killed.”
“It’s worth the risk.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t use you as an assassin before, Lara. And I refuse to do it now. Promise me you’ll let this go.”
“No.” She was adamant. And in that moment, he knew that there was no point in arguing: She’d never concede. It was what he loved about her.
And what he hated.
Kicking at the sand, he glared at the moonlight. Then something caught his eye. The flash of light against a weapon. Diving forward, he knocked Lara over, rolling with her behind a boulder. “Run!”
Staggering to their feet, they dived into the bushes, arrows shooting past them.
“You go, I’ll cover you!” Lara shoved at Aren, but he caught hold of her wrist, yanking her along with him.
“Not a chance.”
They crept through the underbrush, hiding under the cover of darkness as they circled around toward the village Jor was scouting for vessels, the Maridrinian soldiers crashing about as they searched.
“Call for reinforcements! Tell them we’ve got Valcottan raiders coming in from behind!” a man ordered, the voice familiar.
Because it was Keris’s.
The soil was damp, and he and Lara were leaving a trail a blind man could follow. They had to hurry.
Progressing north toward the village, Aren moved with practiced silence through the trees, Lara so quiet that the only reason he knew she was there was the grip he had on her wrist.
“They went this way!” Shouts echoed from behind them, and up the slope, a horse galloped down the road in the direction of the village.
Giving up on stealth, Aren crashed through the underbrush. They were so close. They couldn’t get caught now.
Then they were in the open, racing down a narrow beach. But so was the soldier on horseback.
The gray horse galloped in their direction, rider bent low over its neck, glittering blade held in one hand. Then the man leaned back, hauling on the reins, pulling back his hood to reveal his face.
“What the hell are you doing in Nerastis?” Keris demanded, then shook his head. “Never mind. You need to run. They’re coming, and I’m not in any position to help you.”
Maridrinian soldiers exploded out of the brush and onto the beach, racing in their direction. Keris’s face twisted in frustration, then he shouted, “Catch the Valcottans! They’re getting away!”
Still holding onto Lara’s wrist, Aren raced toward the waterline, where Jor was pulling loose the rope anchoring a small fishing boat to the beach. Together, they pushed it toward the water, boots digging into the sand.
But the Maridrinians were already on them.
Swords clashed, and Aren turned to see Lara fighting them, her sword a blur of silver in the moonlight. But there were a dozen of them and only one of her. “Go!” she shouted. “Don’t stop!”
“Come on, Aren,” Jor snarled. “Push!”
Aren ignored him, letting go of the boat and racing in Lara’s direction. Pulling his weapon, he carved into a soldier, barely hearing the man’s scream as he dropped, because all that mattered was getting to her. He killed another man, then another, and then he and Lara were fighting together, holding them off.
But more Maridrinians swarmed onto the beach, reinforcements arriving.
This was where it was going to end.
And it was not, Aren thought, the worst way to go: with his queen fighting at his back.
“Retreat!” Keris’s voice echoed across the chaos, the prince standing in his saddle. “Retreat!”
The Maridrinian soldiers raced to comply, and Aren twisted around in time to see the first Valcottan longboats hit the shore, dozens of soldiers spilling out. “For Valcotta!” Zarrah screamed, but as she ran past him, she said, “Get going, Ithicana.”
Jor had the fishing boat in the water, and Aren and Lara splashed through the waves, pushing it farther out while Jor fought to get the sails up alone. Clambering in, Aren helped unravel lines, Lara holding onto the edge and kicking hard, pushing them into deeper water, the Valcottans already retreating.