Page 144 of The Endless War

“Not yet,” Zarrah answered. “First there are matters you and I need to discuss.”

Silence stretched, the only sound the shuffling of the soldiers. The stomping of horses’ hooves. The Usurper exhaled, and it was written all over her face that this was not a conversation she wished to have. But then she inclined her head. “As you like. Put down the knife and I will come up.”

“Trust needs to be earned, Auntie,” Zarrah answered. “Tell your soldiers to back up and I’ll throw down my knife.”

A huff of annoyance pulled from the Usurper’s lips, but she made a sharp gesture. “Retreat a dozen yards but”—she gave Zarrah a long look—“be wary of a trap.”

“Farther,” Zarrah demanded, heart pounding because her aunt sensed she was up to something, her eyes gleaming with suspicion. “This conversation is between you and me.”

The Usurper hesitated, then gave a curt nod, and soon the ranks of soldiers were retreating down the pitch. Close enough for them to come to her aunt’s aid if there was an attack but far enough away that her aunt could speak freely without fear of being overheard.

Zarrah smiled, then tossed her knife onto the stadium turf, alongwith her staff. Holding up her hands, she said, “I’m unarmed.”

“You’re too well trained to ever be unarmed,” the Usurper answered. “Move to the far side of the table, dear one.”

She’s afraid of me.

Nodding, Zarrah climbed the steps into the pavilion, circling into the position of the game master, then waited for the Usurper to come to stand on the opposite side of the stone slab.

The trap was sprung, the steel claws descending, but the Usurper was not caught yet.

“If there is to be trust between us, Auntie, there must be honesty. Which means that I need to hear the truth from your lips.”

The Usurper’s eyes narrowed. “Just what truth do you think I’m withholding?”

“The truth about my mother’s fate.”

Silence.

The Usurper’s face was unmoved, but Zarrah could feel the wheels turning in her head. The calculation. Monster she might be, but a brilliant monster who’d hidden her true nature for a very long time. She would do everything in her power to keep it that way. Which meant that Zarrah had to be wary.

“You were there, Zarrah. With your own eyes, you watched Silas Veliant slaughter Aryana. Watched him put her up on a cross for the carrion crows to feast upon while her blood rained down upon you at its base. Watched me gallop into the villa. Watched me untie you. Heard me promise you vengeance.”

“True,” Zarrah answered, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the Usurper’s and not look beyond. “But how did Silas know we were there?”

“The Magpie’s spies. For all he was a disgusting little creature, Serin was a worthy spymaster.”

“Indeed. Although from his own lips, Serin told Keris that it was you who revealed that my mother and I were at the villa without a bodyguard. You used Silas as your assassin, which he was more than glad to be.”

“Lies!” The Usurper slammed her palms down on the stoneslab, and despite herself, Zarrah flinched. “Lies! Time and again, you take everything the rat said as truth rather than open your eyes to his manipulation.”

“Keris wasn’t lying.”

The Usurper snorted. “Believe that if you must, but if that’s the case, then he was deceived by Serin.”

“I don’t think so.” Zarrah pressed her sweat-slicked palms to the tabletop. “That was why you believed him when he sent word that Keris and I were lovers. You and he had an understanding, a trust cemented by complicity.”

The Usurper’s voice shook with rage as she said, “You have been misled. I loved my younger sister. Love you, with all my heart, despite all the villainy you’ve enacted against me. What cause would I have to see you both killed? What did I stand to gain?”

Lifting her hand from the table, Zarrah reached into her cloak pocket and removed the duplicate proclamation her grandfather had written naming her mother as heir, keeping her voice low as she placed it on the table. “Because my mother was the rightful heir to the Valcottan Empire.”

The Usurper’s eyes raked over the aged document. The signature. The seal imprinted with the Emperor’s ring. “You’ve been given a forgery.”

She belied her words by reaching to take the page, and Zarrah drew it away. “I don’t think so, Auntie.”

Fury flared on the Usurper’s face, only to vanish in a heartbeat. “Did you come here to surrender or not, Zarrah? For this feels very little like surrender.”

“I came for the truth.”

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