Page 120 of The Endless War

“Our world is changing already,” Zarrah said softly. “I can feel it.”

Yet it was the most fragile of changes, easily undone, and Keris pulled her closer even as he heard a faint commotion at the edge of thecavern, tension erasing the moment of quiet calm as Arjun approached, a woman at his side.

It was Miri, the matron of the pleasure house.

“There is news,” Arjun said. “We should speak in private.”

Unease bit at Keris’s skin, and he let go of Zarrah to follow Arjun and Miri out of the gathering. They wove through the maze of tunnels, eventually reaching a chamber barricaded with a wooden door that had been cunningly shaped to fill the opening.

Inside, Keris found a table surrounded by inexpensive stools, though the carpets on the floor were thick. Wooden walls had been fabricated to cover the stone, though not an inch of surface wasn’t covered with paper. Maps and reports, sketches of individuals, including one of himself. The artist had filled in his eye color with a paint that was uncannily close to what Keris saw each time he looked in the mirror. There was also a portrait of Zarrah, though it was oil work done with incredible detail. No … no, he’d been mistaken. It wasn’t of Zarrah, which meant—

“Mother.” Zarrah pressed past Keris to stare at the painting for a long moment before rounding on her father. “Where did you get this? My aunt … the Usurper removed all portraits of my mother from the palace. Said they were too painful to look upon.” Her face abruptly twisted with disgust. “Though in hindsight, I suppose it was because every time she looked upon one, she felt guilty for what she’d done.”

“Petra is incapable of feeling guilt,” Arjun answered. “She removed them so that she might become your mother figure in Aryana’s stead. As to the painting itself, it’s my work.”

Keris took a seat at one end of the table, content to observe as Zarrah reached up to touch her mother’s portrait. She murmured, “I remember the smell of paint in your rooms. That you always had colors on your hands.”

“You got into them as a child and painted yourself,” Arjun answered. “The servants couldn’t get it out of your hair and suggested shaving you bald, but your mother refused. Worked on your hair for days to get the blue paint out of it.”

Keris’s own father would’ve beaten him bloody if he’d donesuch a thing, but there was a faint smile on Arjun’s face that suggested the memory was a fond one, even if his tone was gruff as always.

“I remember.” Zarrah’s tone was wistful; then she rolled her shoulders and moved to sit at the table, drawing a map in front of her. “There will be time for memories later. We need to focus on the present. What news do you bring, Miri?”

Once they were all seated, Miri said, “We’ve learned that Petra is amassing her army south of Pyrinat. Likewise, her navy. Hundreds of ships crowding the harbor, to the point that merchant vessels are struggling to make port, which isn’t sustainable. The only garrison that remains untouched is that in Nerastis.”

Arjun nodded. “All the spy reports indicate that with her failure to capture me at Devil’s Island, she will now have to move directly against us here.”

“Welran spoke of the desire to retake Nerastis,” Keris said quietly. “But also an unwillingness to make a move on Maridrina with the rebel threat at its back. It seems to me Petra plans to bring the full weight of her army to bear on the rebellion, and with it crushed, turn her eyes north.”

Arjun exhaled a long breath. “Arakis supports our cause, which was made very clear by actions taken last night. To crush the rebellion means—”

“Wholesale slaughter of Arakis and all other southern towns and cities known to support you,” Zarrah said. “Cut off the arm to save the life, would be how she’d think of it.”

Not even his father would have considered such a move, and Keris began to understand why his father had spoken about Petra with admiration. She was a villain far darker than Silas Veliant could ever claim to be. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’ve been told you have proof that Ephraim intended Aryana to succeed him.”

Arjun nodded, extracting a lockbox that he opened with a key kept on a chain around his neck. Inside was a wax-wrapped document, which he carefully removed and spread in front of them. “I watched him sign this myself.”

Keris’s eyes skimmed over the document, pausing on the shakysignature of the dying Emperor, which he recognized. A large seal in lavender wax was fixed beneath. It appeared authentic to his eyes.

“Then it’s true.” Zarrah touched the seal, then asked, “How many soldiers can you bring to arms?”

“Five thousand.”

No emotion registered on Zarrah’s face, but her stillness told Keris that she had hoped the number much larger.

“All trained? All armed?”

Arjun didn’t answer, which was an answer in and of itself. “They are committed and will fight to the death, which is more than one can say for the Usurper’s soldiers. The Queen of Teraford has been supplying us with some weaponry, though it is out of self-interest. She fears that if Petra isn’t distracted by rebellion, she’ll move to annex choice parts of land along the border.”

Zarrah’s jaw was working back and forth, and Keris didn’t need her to speak to know what she was thinking. Five thousand soldiers, only a portion of which were trained, would not stand a chance against Petra’s army, which, last Keris had heard, numbered thirty thousand strong, plus one hundred and fifty naval vessels.

Picking up two pairs of markers, Keris set one on the border. “Your intelligence will be fresher than my own, but there should be five thousand Maridrinian soldiers in Nerastis, a thousand of which is cavalry. All armed, all trained, all experienced fighting men.”

Arjun nodded. “Our spies confirm these numbers.”

Keris set another marker down on the edge of the Red Desert. “Three thousand, broken into groups, along here. Desert-bred men who can survive on the thought of water alone.”

Arjun blinked. “Our spies say a thousand.”

---