Page 105 of The Endless War

The corner of Zarrah’s mouth turned up, but her eyes were full of sadness. “What are we doing, Keris? How many times will we come together, only for circumstance to pull us apart?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, pain, old and new, welling in his heart.

“Is there a future for us?” she asked. “Is there a path forward I’m not seeing that allows everything we’re fighting for to coexist with us spending our nights in each other’s arms?”

The wordyestried to push its way from his lips, but he swallowed it down. “No.”

“Then why do we keep trying?” Her lip quivered, and he watched her bite down on it, warring with emotions. “Why do we inflict such suffering upon ourselves? Why do we come together, knowing that the wound will inevitably be torn open again?”

He didn’t want to answer these questions. Wanted to close his mouth over hers to silence them, because to answer would be to impose logic on matters of the heart. Instead he cleared his throat, voice hoarse as he said, “For my part, it is the absence from you that cuts deepest, the wound growing crueler with every hour, day, week that I cannot see your face or hear your voice. The hope that our separation will end, even briefly, allows me to endure the pain, but if I were to lose that hope, I think the wound would fester until it consumed me entirely.”

“Don’t say such things,” she whispered. “It sounds like prophesy.”

Keris looked away, hating that word, though he didn’t know why.

“It’s what I dreamed about while I was in the bath waiting for you,” she said. “A future where all that we desire comes to pass, crowns on our heads and peace between our nations. A world where our union would be accepted. Yet even then, I could not see my way through, as to rule, we must reside in our nations’ hearts. You in Vencia. Me in Pyrinat. For you know as well as I do that the moment we turn our backs, darker minds will try to secure power. You risk as much even now by being here.”

She was not wrong. There was no doubt in his mind that his brothers were plotting how to be rid of him, and those next in line would all be quick to fan the fires of war.

“And what if we had children. How—”

“Stop.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Please stop.”

Zarrah fell silent, the only sound the endless beat of the drum and the faint cries of patrons in the throes of thoughtless pleasure.

“I don’t know what is worse,” she said. “To stop now and endure the pain of what might have been or to keep going, knowing that there will come a moment when I lose it all.”

“You don’t need to decide now, Zarrah.” Nor did he want her to, because she’d never chosen him. Not once. It was always her people, her honor, her country, which was why he knew she’d be an empressfor the ages. He admired her virtue and yet hated it in equal measure, for it hurt them both so deeply.

“I know,” she answered. “But until I do decide, I will pursue no intimacy between us. I wish only to take that step with a clear mind and certain heart.”

When it came to her, his heart was always certain. Always stalwart in its need to choose her and only her, no matter the cost. But he would not change who she was for the sake of protecting his heart, so Keris only nodded.

They lay in silence, her forehead pressed against his chest, as they waited for Miri to bring word it was safe for them to depart. After a time, he noticed Zarrah’s breathing had slowed, a steady rise and fall against him. Asleep.

Keris’s chest tightened, sick on the emotions that churned within him, but as the fire burned low, he held her close, warding away the cold even if he was powerless to ward away the doubts that plagued her. Wishing that he could freeze time so as to live in this moment because Keris knew it wouldn’t last.

Sure enough, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the handle on the door twisted and swung open, Zarrah jerking awake as Daria appeared in the entrance. The woman gave them a once-over, then grinned. “Good to see you alive, Your Graces.”

TEARING AWAY FROMKeris, Zarrah straightened the cheap robe she wore, heat burning her cheeks. “Likewise. We weren’t certain whether you escaped.”

“When you have been the prey as long as we have, you learn a few tricks for evading the predators.”

“We are the predators now,” Zarrah answered, lifting her chin in defiance against the weakness that had plagued her.

“Says the woman hiding in a brothel.” Daria chuckled as she shut the door behind her, tossing garments onto the bed. “Though I’m pleased to see your spirit remains intact.” She winked at Keris. “All painted up like a whore. It’s a fitting look for you, Your Grace.”

Ever nonplussed, Keris only lifted the trousers to inspect them. “How’s your stomach handling the change in diet, Captain?”

Zarrah tensed as Daria’s jaw tightened, but the other woman only bent to examine Keris’s injury. “The Devil must have had his fill of your conversation while you were on the island, for when offered your soul, I see he spat it back out again.”

“No accounting for taste,” Keris answered, then turned away to pull on the clothes Daria had brought.

Zarrah quickly grabbed the other set, discarding the robe in favor of trousers, a blouse, and a sturdy vest.

“Our people will collect your things from the bathhouse,” Daria said to her. “His Grace’s belongings are another matter, though. Welran’s soldiers took them in the hopes of using them to find you. Is there anything in them that speaks to your true identity?”

“Knives are Maridrinian make,” Keris answered. “Coin was a few different currencies, and the clothes were from Cardiff.”

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