Page 143 of The Endless War

More of the army moved into the stadium, men and women casting long shadows as the sun began its descent in the west. Zarrah’s hand trembled from holding the knife in place at her throat, but she was afraid to move it lest the soldiers get their hands on her. Which would make all of this for naught.

What if she doesn’t come?

What if I’m wrong about how she feels?

Thoughts raced through Zarrah’s skull, and it wasn’t long until her clothes were damp with sweat and her stomach twisted into knots of anxiety. This wasn’t how she fought her battles. Her strength was combat and killing, not subterfuge and manipulation, but if Keris had taught her anything, it was that sometimes there were better paths to victory than violence.

I wish you were here,she silently whispered, allowing her gaze to flick briefly to the sky.I need you.

No, you don’t,the sky seemed to answer, and her eyes burned.

Drum beats abruptly filled the air, and Zarrah tensed.She’s coming.

The ranks of soldiers parted to allow the drummers through, and then the Usurper appeared. Riding a large white horse caparisoned in silver and lilac, her aunt slowly approached the pavilion, expression unreadable. She wore armor, a sword at her waist and a small shield hanging from a hook on her saddle. Ever the warrior who led armies to victory.

The Usurper drew her horse to a stop at the base of the stairs. “It pleases me that you’ve come to see reason, dearest. Put down your weapons and come here so that we might put all of this behind us.”

“No.”

The Usurper tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “You cannot win this, Zarrah. You placed your faith in a man, in a Maridrinian, in aVeliant, and you must now see the consequences of doing so. You stand alone because you put your faith in one who did not deserve it. One who did not even deserve his own crown, for it was his own army, his own people, who gave him over to Welran in Nerastis. Keris Veliant failed you, dear one.”

Oh God, no.Grief filled her chest, threatening to drown her, but Zarrah forced her spine straight. The time to weep, the time to hurt, was later.

“My faith was not misplaced,” Zarrah called out. “To die fighting for one’s cause is not a failure.”

“He isn’t dead.” The Usurper’s mouth quirked into a half smile.“Welran’s orders were to bring him to me alive.”

Zarrah’s heart gave a rapid skitter, then plummeted into her stomach. Keris was alive. Alive, but this creature’s prisoner. Death might have been a greater mercy. “To what end?”

“Hisend, once you come to realize that all the pain you have suffered is because of him.”

Horror flooded Zarrah’s veins, because she knew what was coming even before the Usurper said, “My army has surrounded the rebel forces. Every last one of them is a traitor to the crown, a Veliant pawn, but I will forgive their transgressions once you condemn their master. Once you condemnyourmaster.”

A choice between Keris and the rebels. His life for theirs. “And if I refuse?”

“Then the rebels will be executed,” the Usurper answered. “And the rat will be kept a prisoner until such day as you are willing to cast off his control over you.”

Zarrah swallowed the burn rising up her throat, her knees feeling abruptly too weak to keep her standing. A sting of pain burst on her neck, and she sucked in a deep breath, realizing she’d nicked herself. Tiny droplets of blood ran down her throat, but rather than lowering her knife, she took a deep breath to steady her hand. Her plan was still in play. “How do I know you even have him? How do I know that you aren’t negotiating with an empty hand?”

“You don’t, but why does that even matter? Choosing between your people’s lives and that of your puppet master should be easy, dear one.”

It should have been, but it wasn’t.

“Choose now,” the Usurper said. “Or the choice will be made for you, and it will beboth.Prove to Valcotta that you value your nation and your people over your lover.”

Zarrah stiffened, for it was as though the Usurper had read her mind. If she chose Keris in front of so many witnesses, she’d lose all credibility. For who would want an empress who valued her lover’s life over that of her people?

She couldn’t save everyone. She had to choose.

Her throat tried to strangle the words, her tongue to freeze inplace, but Zarrah’s voice was clear as she said, “I choose my people.”

The Usurper dropped her reins and pressed a hand to her heart. “I knew you would make the right choice.” Turning her head, she gestured to Sephra. “Send riders on the north road to meet Welran. Tell him to gut the rat on the side of the road, then stake him out as carrion for the scavengers to feast upon.”

Sephra saluted, and the Usurper’s attention moved back to Zarrah. “I will not be so cruel as to make you watch. The rat will disappear from existence, and in time, it will be as though none of this happened.”

A hot tear slipped down Zarrah’s cheek as she watched Sephra leave the stadium. She’d killed him. Killed him, and in doing so, cut out her own heart. Honor and duty might carry her forward, but she’d never recover. And she’d certainly never forget.

“Put down the knife,” the Usurper said. “Come to me, and we shall heal from this ordeal together.”

---