Zarrah felt frozen in place, both hands gripping the table as she watched Keris exit and quietly shut the door behind him. He was leaving. Not just the room, the camp, and Valcotta, but her.
It was necessary.
Inevitable.
But…
“The spies say she hates him more than she did his father.”
The assertion tore her back to the moment, and she met the commander’s eyes. Her father’s eyes, though she still found herself struggling to reconcile the two. “Pardon?”
“I’ll take my leave,” Miri said, rising to her feet. “I need to get back to Arakis.”
Zarrah waited for the door to shut behind her before saying, “It’s because she believes he is the reason I turned from her. She believes he stole my loyalty from her.” Pushing the sweat-dampened curls clinging to her face behind her ears, Zarrah shook her head. “When she first learned about us, she flew into a rage against me, and I was certain she intended to see me dead. Especially when she said that I was to go to Devil’s Island. But in the time between that moment and the hour before I was incarcerated, something in her mind…shifted.”
Her father settled back in his chair.
“She seemed to have convinced herself that I was Keris’s victim. That he’d manipulated me and used me as part of his plot to take Maridrina’s throne. She had a spy report with claims that he’d taken up with one of the harem wives, and while logic suggests that she was lying to manipulate me, I don’t think that’s the case. I could see in her eyes that she believed everything it said, though it is strange for her spies to pass off rumor as fact. She had convinced herself that Keris had turned on me, which…” Zarrah trailed off, ashamed that Petra’s delusions had become truth in her own mind. “She made me believe I had been a silly girl. A fool. That I needed punishment to keep me from ever making the same mistakes again.”
“She has always been that way,” her father answered. “Could never see fault within herself, could never take the blame for anything. And she was a master of finding ways to make others believe that it was their fault.”
Looking back, Zarrah could see that now. How Petra never took responsibility for anything that went wrong, not really.
“She adored your mother,” he said. “When Ephraim decreed it would be Aryana who took the throne, Petra did not blame her sister, but her father. She told Aryana that she needed to take the crown to protect her, because she didn’t believe your mother had the strength for it. The reasons and rationales she gave for her actions grew at a frenzied pace, those who questioned her right to rule dying in accidents, while the military backed her, for she had always been their darling. I challenged her, named her usurper, and the fury that drew from her was a thing to behold. She banished me to the Red Desert to fight in the border wars, where I imagined she hoped I’d make my end.
“It was then we realized that Petra would never give up the crown of her free will, and we made the decision to falsify my death so that I could begin work gaining supporters,” he said. “I was young and idealistic, so I thought that support would come easily. Except Petra dedicated the early years of her rule to winning the love of the people, and though there were those who disliked her warmongering, finding those who felt strongly enough to oppose her was…difficult. One year became two. Then five. Though I was able to meet with your mother, we didn’t dare allow you to see me for fear you might say something to the wrong person.
“At that point, Petra was beginning to show some of her true colors in ways she hadn’t since right after Ephraim’s death. Excessive punishment for anyone who spoke against her, unfair trials, disappearances, and murders in the night, all while her masters of propaganda tricked everyone into believing her the benevolent ruler, beloved by all. I started making headway, recruiting resistance in Arakis, and we began disseminating the truth about her activities. Rumors that she had stolen the crown. I…” He trailed off, eyes distant. “In hindsight, that may have been when Petra realized that Aryana was not on her side, not her supporter at all. When she decided to kill her.”
Zarrah took a steadying breath. All of this had been happening right beneath her nose as a child, and she hadn’t even known it. Had been blissfully unaware, convinced that all was as it should be as she lived her life as a pampered princess in her aunt’s palace. So certain that all was well in her world, the pain of her father’s loss a distant memory.
“You saw me once a year before your mother was murdered,” he softly said. “She introduced me as a dear friend, and I remember clear as day how you looked at me like a stranger.”
A jolt struck Zarrah as the memory was brought forth. “At a handball match in the stadium at Meritt. I remember. Mother loved to watch the matches, but after her death, Petra closed all the stadiums. Something about illegal betting.” Or, more likely, because once she’d turned on Zarrah’s mother, she’d turned on everything Aryana loved.
Except for Zarrah; instead, Petra made her her own.
Her father rose, going to a map cabinet and removing several rolled canvases, which he unfurled on the table before her. They were paintings of Zarrah. Six of them, all at different ages, the latest from when she must have been near twenty. All beautiful work rendered with such precise detail that he must have watched her closely over the years.
“You were always watched. By me, or those close to me,” he said. “Only too late did I realize the cost of leaving you in her care. How she changed you, made you into her likeness, her heir in every possible way. Those were dark days, but you found your way out.”
“Keris helped me find my way out.”
“For which he has my gratitude,” her father said. “I know his presence cannot be replaced, but as he travels north, I hope you’ll accept me at your side.”
Zarrah stared at the paintings of herself over the years, watched as her face hardened under the influence of her aunt, her smile fading. Her aunt had convinced her that to prove her strength, she needed to stand alone. That she couldn’t rely on anyone other than herself. Couldn’t trust anyone but herself.
And in believing her, Zarrah realized just how weak she’d become.
Pushing back her stool, she rose. “I would be honored to have you walk by my side, Commander. But before we press forward, there is something I need to do.”