Chapter 22 #2
“You fucked up by sending her away?” Zaarib clarified, frowning as he sat opposite me, the shoulders of his black and silver djellaba straining at the seams. I would have teased him about that if I could find a spark of feeling in my chest.
“Catastrophically,” I confirmed.
“I still don’t understand why you sent her to Morysen,” he said, shaking his head. “The Morysen part I get, it’s unlikely Bakshi will allow his capital to be sacked. But why send her away at all? Because of what happened at Wyfell?”
“I—” I opened my mouth, then closed it again. With the hollow in my chest and the exhaustion draining everything else, I couldn’t remember what reasons I’d given them.
Dull hurt cracked through my skull when the flat of a palm met the back of my head, and I whipped my head around to glare at Shula as she stalked past.
“Just tell them,” she barked, raising an eyebrow. In challenge and confirmation.
She knew. How, I didn’t know, but she knew. Or maybe she knew something else and hadn’t guessed at the truth. Shame burned like acid in my stomach. I couldn’t look her in the eye.
“We already know, Varidian,” Nabil said, folding a piece of paper as he walked back into the room. “Just tell us.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Shula added encouragingly.
“Well.” Nabil gave her a look. “It’s quite a big deal. It’s not every day your friend and commander becomes a living myth.”
“Shit,” I hissed, burying my head in my hands. They did know. They truly knew. “You know what I am—and you’re still sitting here with me? When did you figure it out?”
“Daurith,” Aliah answered with a soothing blend of kindness and wry amusement. I dropped my hands to meet her eyes and found no hatred, no judgement. “It was obvious, Varidian.”
“Well, not to me,” Zaarib blurted. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“You didn’t notice the lightning storm when those wyverns attacked Daurith?” Aliah questioned, the look she aimed his way somehow more judgemental than the look she graced me with.
“Well, obviously. Clearly, the lightning soul hates those Zalaam wyverns, too, if it came to help—” He cut off and stared at me. Just stared.
My stomach churned, and missing nothing, Aliah nudged one of the tangerines towards me and gave me an expectant look.
I sighed and began peeling it, forcing myself to eat.
“The fruit will help settle your stomach,” she said, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest to watch Zaarib and I. “Ameirah knows, I assume.”
“I told her when she woke up after the battle here. Right before—I had to send her away. I had to. I couldn’t let her stay with me, knowing what she knew. She’d be a target, forever at risk—”
“Raise your hand if you think that was a dumb decision,” Zaarib drawled, and three hands shot into the air.
“Thanks,” I muttered, finishing the fruit. “Very supportive.”
“What’s done is done,” Shula cut in before Zaarib could reply. “What matters is getting her away from Morysen and back here where she’s safe. And where she can give our dear commander the lecture of the century.”
“Thanks for being on my side, guys,” I quipped. “It’s nice to know you have my back.”
Shula snorted. “With your foolish ass? I’m always on Ameirah’s side.”
Nabil clapped my shoulder on his way out the door to spirit the letter to the Torn Isle.
“Aliah, go with him,” I said, jerking my chin at the door.
“We’ll secure help,” she replied, like all my fear and insecurity was plain to read on my face. She hastily threw bread and fruit into a bag. “You stay here, plan, and get some rest if you can.” She pushed a bowl of steaming harira towards me in a final order. “We’ll bring Ameirah home.”
For a moment we stared at the door they’d disappeared through, and then I forced my fingers to curl around the spoon, to bring the food to my mouth.
And for my friends, for my wife who would undoubtedly be furious, I ate everything in the bowl as Shula, Zaarib, and I laid out a blunt, brutal assault on Morysen. Our own fucking capital.
My father did this, treacherous bastard that he was. He’d forced us into this corner, where the only way to get Ameirah out quickly enough to evade capture was to assess Morysen as an enemy city.
I rose from the table halfway through an intense discussion about the Morysen house guard.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Zaarib demanded.
“To write a letter. No, several letters.”
I didn’t know if they’d help, but I had to try. Attacking Morysen was already high treason; I may as well become a full traitor.
The Torn Isle leaders sent their reply four hours after Nabil and Aliah departed, both wyverns panting, sides heaving, when they landed on the lawn outside the Diamond.
Habiba snapped at me as I neared, her foul mood reflected on her rider’s scowling face as Aliah dismounted in a graceful slide.
Nabil was close behind, giving Aliah’s mount a wide berth as he strode towards us.
“They’ll help,” he told me, but his voice was anything but relieved. “Kanuri agreed to send four legions to back us up in our attack on Morysen—they’re already readying to fly.”
My shoulders sank, relief striking me like a fist to the chest, knocking all the air out of my lungs. The tautness of Aliah’s expression made me stiffen all over again. “For what price?” I asked.
“They want a favour in return,” she said, her mouth pursed with clear distaste. “They want us to kill someone.”