Page 91 of The Endless War

Slinging a leg over the edge, she climbed down the ladder into the longboat, Aren following. “We need to hurry,” she said to him. “The navy patrols for smugglers, and that’s how this will appear.”

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes.”

A lie, for she found herself looking back at the ship. Hoping to see him on the deck. Through a window.

Nothing.

The boat reached the shallows, the Ithicanians leaping out and cursing the frigid water as they pulled it onto the beach.

“Feels like the last time we parted ways,” Aren muttered, eyeing the dense forest. “Watch your back.”

Zarrah stepped onto the slick rocks of the beach, patting her bag full of coin and supplies. “Thank you.”

Aren hesitated, then said, “I wish there was more I could do for you, Zarrah, but I need to be back in Ithicana.”

She smiled. “I appreciate the sentiment, but this is my fight.”

Every minute they lingered put them at risk, but Zarrah’s eyes still drifted to the ship, searching for Keris’s familiar golden hair.

Nothing.

“Goodbye, Your Grace,” she said to Ithicana’s king, then stoodwatching as the Ithicanians rowed him back to the ship. Only then did she start walking. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but Zarrah didn’t look back as she climbed the narrow path up the hill, the scent of pine thick in her nose. Up and up, not pausing until she broke out of the trees. There, she stopped to look out over the sea, watching the ship sail toward the horizon.

It’s over,she chanted to herself.It’s over.

It would never be over.

“Don’t shed too many tears over their departure,” a voice said from behind her. “For all his protests to the contrary, I expect that Aren will be unable to resist sticking his nose into this rebellion. He really does not like your aunt.”

Zarrah spun, pulling loose the sword buckled at her waist, the familiar velvet tones of Keris’s voice registering a heartbeat before her eyes latched upon him. He sat on a rock, a half-empty bottle of wine and a selection of cheese sitting beside him, a wineglass in one hand.

“What are you doing here?” she shouted before whirling back to the sea. But the ship was too far gone to signal. “They’re going to think you fell overboard!”

“I doubt it,” Keris answered, sipping at his wine. “Was Jor who rowed me to shore, and it was Aren who took his time dropping anchor to give us the time to do so.”

An unjust sense of betrayal filled her that Aren had known and said nothing. “Why? Why the fuck are you here, Keris?”

“Because you and I need to have a conversation.”

“Then we should’ve had it on the ship,” she shouted. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, Keris. Truly, I am. But this is my fight. I need to focus on Valcotta. You need to go back to Maridrina.”

Keris took a sip of his wine, then set the delicate glass on the rock next to the cheese. “Are those your orders?”

She didn’t answer.

Rising to his feet, Keris walked toward her, the intensity in his azure eyes causing Zarrah’s stomach to flip.

He stopped in front of her, and she swayed, uncertain of whethershe wanted to step forward or back. Whether she needed to attack or retreat.

“I can be reasoned with. Convinced. Persuaded.” He leaned closer, his voice low as he said, “But when it comes to matters of my family, my people, or my kingdom, I willnotbe ordered.”

Zarrah lifted her chin, meeting his stare unblinking. “You presume to—”

“I’m not finished.” His breath was warm, scented faintly with the wine he’d been drinking. “The reigning empress of Valcotta has her sights trained on my back. Wants to destroy me, my family, and my people. Wants to burn Maridrina to ash, yet you have the audacity to tell me that this is not my fight. To tell me to go back to Vencia to wait for your instructions like I’m one of your soldiers and beholden to your orders. I am not.”

“You think—” She cut off as his head tilted, eyes narrowing.

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