Teriana’s stomach dropped. She had known him all her life, but the bitter and angry expression on the Sultan’s face made him seem a stranger. Astara appeared as she always did—ready to tear Teriana’s heart out the moment she had the chance.
She deserved their hatred. Deserved their ire. But it was her people she’d gathered here, so it was her people Teriana focused on. A sea of Maarin faces, eyes all filled with tempestuous seas. Swallowing hard, she wiped her sweaty palms on her trousers.
“I won’t waste words.” Her voice was strong and clear, belying the tremor in her knees. “You all know who I am. You all know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and the majority of you have condemned me for it. I can’t blame you for that, because in truth, I blame myself for much of what has happened.” Teriana’s throat tightened, and she coughed to clear it. “But I also know that even if I’d done everything differently, we would still have found ourselves here, one way or another. Our mantra was that East must not meet West, but in truth, they’ve never been separated. Reath is one world, and I see now that believing its halves could be kept apart with secrets and half truths was either a delusion or a dream destined to fail. And in refusing to acknowledge that truth, we were ill prepared when the halves collided.”
Her people shifted restlessly, but no one spoke against her.
“When the Cel captured our ships and put our people to question, I believed that it was my doing. Believed that Lucius Cassius had learned about the West because I’d revealed our secret to Lydia. But he already knew the West existed, as did many others, because it was nogods-damned secret!” Teriana shouted the last words, anger about the lies she’d been fed all her life bubbling up in her chest.
“I believed that my people were imprisoned and dying because of me, and when Madoria silenced every voice but mine, I chose to use my voice in an attempt to save those I believed I’d condemned.”
Many of the elders among the crew looked to the ground, and Teriana clenched her fist at the confirmation that many of them had known the reality. But this was no time for casting blame.
“Magnius told me that Madoria had chosen me to defeat the Empire, andgodshave I struggled with the weight of that task. Not only in how I might accomplish such a feat, but in understanding what defeat really meant. Yet through every step of that journey, what burned in my heart and drove me forward was a need to save those I believed I’d harmed. It was the great villain Lucius Cassius who made me finally see the selfishness of my motivations. Who made me see that so much of what I chose to do was driven by my own need to remedy my mistakes. To atone for the choices I’d made.”
Several heads nodded, and her anger flared brighter. “But my motivations being selfish does not mean my actions were wrong. What is wrong is to condemn five hundred souls to execution because the risk required to save them is a greater bet than you care to wager. For to do so isn’t just selfishness, it’s cowardice. And the greatest form of foolishness, because sacrificing them would have changed nothing. The Empire would only have found another way, and every one of us would have had to live with the question of whether delaying the Empire by a day, a month, a year, was worth sacrificing our consciences.”
Silence stretched, and that silence weighed on Teriana’s shoulders, dragging her down and down. She knew it was her methods, not her motivations, that pitted them against her.
“I think it is easier to look at the Empire as a faceless evil,” Teriana finally said in a voice quiet enough that her people leaned forward to hear. “Easier to paint every one of the Empire’s people as a villain deserving universal condemnation for what their nation has done. Easier to refuse to see the individuals that make up the whole, because that would grant them humanity, which many believe is a gift they do not deserve. And perhaps that is so. Perhaps they all deserve our hatred.
“Except I question the reasons we refuse to look at the individuals who make up the whole. Is it because we fear that in understandingwhythey do the things they do, we risk absolving them? Or is it because thewhyisn’t always cruelty, greed, or ignorance? Is it because thewhyis often fear, loyalty, and even love? I think maybe we refuse to see them as individuals because in knowing that such familiar motivations drive our enemy’s actions, we might be forced to look at our own choices in a different light. And that terrifies us.”
Lifting her chin, Teriana stared out over the crowd. “I rolled the dice to save our people, using the legions to achieve what Cassius wanted. In the beginning, I told myself that my bet was on the West’s ability to drive them back once our people were freed, but in the end, I was betting on the individual men within those legions. Bettingon one in particular, because I believed he was more ally than enemy.” Teriana’s bottom lip quivered, and she bit down on it hard. “I bet wrong, and I will bear the weight of my choices for the rest of my days and accept the punishment you feel is fitting. But before you make that decision, I wish to put before you another bet with a higher wager than before.”
She waited a breath, then said, “I want you to bet your lives on the Maarin’s ability to strike a blow at the Empire herself. I want you to bet your lives on the willingness of other nations to rise up with us. I want you to bet your lives that we have the ability to defeat the undefeatable.”
Silence stretched, then Vane said, “What do you propose?”
Teriana explained her plan, which was beautifully simple. Excruciatingly complex. A plan that only she could orchestrate. And when she was finished, Teriana met the eyes of her people and asked, “Will you roll the dice with me?”
No one spoke, then her cousin Elyanna stepped forward. “I will roll the dice!” She gave her husband a shove, and he gave a tight nod. “I like a good wager.”
More and more voices filled the air. Her people balled their fists, their need for vengeance turning their eyes into violent storms. Their need for justice. But above all, the need to reclaim their honor and pride, for it had been brought low.
Then the Sultan stepped forward, shoulders back and head high, and all fell silent. His brown eyes locked on hers, and Teriana knew he would never forgive her. But neither would he allow his anger to own him. With the voice of the warrior he’d once been, Sultan Kalin roared, “Gamdesh will roll the dice!”
89LYDIA
OnHelene’sorders, Lydia and Killian were confined to Lydia’s stateroom in Seldrid’s manor while Helene and the High Lords, who’d just arrived, negotiated a response to Marcus.
“No one is going to believe that I’ll agree to this,” Killian said, pacing the room. “The High Lords are all going to think this is ascheme, because they know there is no chance I’d allow you to go back to Celendor without a fight. Especially given that you are supposed to go there to marry Lucius Cassius.”
Lydia pulled off her boots and curled up on a sofa, a cup of tea steaming on the low table before her. “Well, either come up with a way that I can reasonably convince you or put on an act of trying to steal me away, and we can have you put in irons for the duration of the negotiations.”
“There is no way I’d be convinced, so get the irons ready.” Killian went to the window and stared out into the night. “I hate that we’re leaning on trickery and scheming with the hopes Marcus will fall for it rather than taking concrete action. That we’ll be waiting around, locked in this room, when we could be trying to reach Deadground.”
Lydia understood how he felt. Strategic or not, the passivity her scheme required rubbed her the wrong way as well. “If I disappear from Serlania, I think it will drive Marcus to act. Whereas if I am imprisoned by Helene, he will perceive me as contained. Within reach. And he’ll take the time to find other routes to achieve his goals. Keep in mind that Marcus was the one who initiated this negotiation by sending that letter—he wants this to work.”
“Or it’s a trick on his part.”
“I don’t think so. Or at least, not at its heart.” Picking up her teacup, she sipped at it. “Teriana knows him better than anyone, Killian, and she’s convinced that no matter how far Marcus has fallen, he won’t willingly send his men to their deaths. He’ll only come here in force if he feels there is no other avenue, and I think that reluctance will cause him to grasp at the straws Helene offers him.”
“And when he comes to retrieve you?” Killian twisted away from the window. “What then? How am I supposed to stop them from taking you when I’m trussed up in irons to make this scheme believable? How far will you take this to buy Teriana the time she needs?”
He doesn’t think it’s a scheme.Understanding pooled in Lydia’s stomach as she realized that Killian believed she’d actually let Marcus take her. That she’d sacrifice herself in truth to give Teriana the time she needed. Rising to her feet, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Killian’s neck.
“I’m not going to take it that far.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his, feeling a flutter low in her stomach as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. “I won’t let him take me from you.”
