Page 42 of The Inadequate Heir (The Bridge Kingdom 3)

And never would.

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ZARRAH

Cheers met Zarrah and her soldiers as they rode back into Nerastis, word that they’d repelled the Maridrinian raid having flown ahead of them. Civilians and soldiers alike lined the streets, hands held to their hearts in respect for those who’d fought, those who’d died, and those who’d come home victorious.

Zarrah could feel the shift in sentiment in her soldiers. Far too often, they arrived on the heels of a raid, too late to do anything but step over the bodies of dead civilians as they pursued the Maridrinians back across the border. But this had been a good, clean fight, and instead of heading straight to the war room to make plans for retaliation, nearly everyone wandered off in search of leisure or sleep, only Bermin following her as she went to her office, a healer waiting to stitch up the deep cut on her arm.

“They sing your praises.” He closed the door behind him. “Victory is sweet, but you and I both know this was luck. If the Maridrinians had come by land, it would have been a very different story.”

“What is it you want, cousin?” Whatsheneeded was sleep, yet what shewantedwas the sun to be setting, not rising, so that she could meet the Maridrinian at the dam. Already her pulse thrummed, anticipation distracting her as the healer unraveled the sticky bandages and set to cleaning the wound, which stung but wasn’t deep enough to be of particular concern.

The chair across from her creaked as Bermin settled his bulk into it, the dark bruises on his throat vivid in the sunlight shining through the window behind her. Blood splattered his clothing from the battle, and between the two of them, the room was beginning to reek.

“How did you know?” he finally asked, leaning back, his arms crossed behind his head. “You wouldn’t have left us so exposed if you weren’t certain.”

Zarrah shrugged, the healer muttering in annoyance as she fumbled one of the stitches. “After your actions, a significant retaliation was inevitable. With little moon, it’s easier to transport a larger force at speed via the sea. I had our spies in the Maridrinian palace watch the stables and inform me if horses left.”

“They take horses out all the time on patrol.”

“Senior Maridrinian officers don’t condescend to ride patrol, cousin. But they do love the glory of a raid—it was their horses that I had watched.”

Bermin’s brow furrowed, and he rubbed thoughtfully at the few days of stubble darkening his chin. “How did you know it would be last night?”

“I didn’t.” She lifted one hand. “My intent was to keep watch over the shores until the moon lit the sky, then once again split our patrols between east and west. Was only luck that they came the first night we stood watch.”

“Luck.” He dropped his hand from his chin. “Didn’t feel like luck, little Zarrah.”

God, but shehatedwhen he called her that. “If you have a point to make, make it. Otherwise, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve reports requiring my attention.”

“So diligent.” He smiled. “When do we attack again?”

Because this hadn’t beenhisvictory, it had been hers.

“We don’t.” Zarrah nodded at the healer, who’d finished working on her arm and was now leaving the room. “As you said yourself, pride will send them back across the Anriot, and I intend to meet them head-on. No more of us arriving minutes too late to save the lives of those we are supposed to protect, Bermin. Until the Empress orders otherwise, we will defend our borders. Nothing more.”

His nostrils flared, wheels turning in his dark eyes. Then he shrugged. “I live by your will, General.”

Liar,she thought, but only smiled, watching as he left the room.

The Maridrinian was waitingwhen she arrived at the dam, both of them carrying muted lanterns in deference to the utter blackness of the moonless night.

“You were true to your word, Maridrina,” she called across the gap, her pulse racing faster than the climb warranted.

“Such little faith.” He set his lantern on the edge of the spillway. “Mark the edge for me, would you? I’ve no interest in shouting across a waterfall.”

She set her lantern down on the edge, backing up to give him space but remaining close enough to catch his arm if he slipped. Fear bit in her chest as he retreated out of the faint glow of the lantern, his boots scraping against rock as he sprinted forward and leapt, little more than a shadow until he landed like a cat next to her lantern. And though he was steady, Zarrah caught him by the arm, pulling him away from the edge. “Don’t you fear falling?”

He glanced back at the spillway, then shrugged. “Seems counterproductive. Besides, I won’t be half so lucky as to die from a fall—it’s just not in the cards.”

She opened her mouth to ask what hedidfear, then found herself not wanting to talk about such grim things. “They came exactly as you said they would. It was good information. Thank you.”

“Should we be expecting retaliation?”

She shook her head, following suit as he sat on the edge of the dam, legs dangling. “It was a clean fight—and one which we won. It has contented spirits in the barracks, at least for a time.” Inhaling, she wrinkled her nose. “Why do you smell like you just came from a brothel?”

He smirked. “Because I did.”

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