Page 136 of The Winner's Kiss
The princess shrugged. “It’s not hard to find safe passage if you’re willing to kill for it.”
In Herrani, Arin asked Kestrel, “What are you thinking?”
She noticed the switch in language and recognized that Arin believed it was safe to speak in Herrani, but she didn’t risk an answer in front of Risha. She didn’t say that General Trajan could have sent the embittered eastern princess with tempting bait. Kestrel feared a trap. “What kind of help are you offering?”
“I can give you a location where the emperor will be, separate from the army, with a light guard.”
“How did you come by this information?”
“The court.”
Kestrel didn’t like this. It was too easy. “You still haven’t said what you want out of this bargain.”
Risha kept her eyes on Arin. “Promise that Verex won’t be hurt. Protect him.”
Startled, defensive, Arin said, “I don’t wish the Valorian prince any harm.”
But Roshar’s face changed . . . and Kestrel suddenly realized why. “No,” she told him, her voice rising. “You musn’t. His death wouldn’t serve you. You should want him to inherit the empire. He’d be a friend to the east.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Roshar said. “Our queen will smash the empire to pieces if she can. Killing the emperor might win the war. Verex might become a political ally. But if he inherits Valoria, that country will always be a threat to us . . . and to you, Arin.”
“Someone else would step into Verex’s place,” Kestrel argued. “If the prince died, the senate would elect a new emperor.”
Arin’s gray eyes went flat. “It’d be the Valorian general.”
Roshar shrugged. “Unless we eliminate him as well. Knock down all the principal pieces in Borderlands, and what’s left for your opponent? Surrender.”
“You forget an important piece in this game,” Risha said. “Me.”
Roshar’s shoulders tensed. Kestrel felt a growing disquiet.
“Verex and I would marry,” said the princess.
“An alliance between east and west,” Roshar said slowly.
Kestrel sought Arin’s gaze. When he met her eyes she couldn’t read them.
“Not so good for you, little Herrani,” Roshar told Arin. “Your peninsula would get lost in the middle.”
The risk had always been there, even if they won the war: that Herran would be retaken by the west, or dwindle into the east. But now Kestrel saw it as if seeing the future: how a marriage between the empire and Dacra could lead to one power ruling the entire continent. Herran would vanish.
“Decide,” Risha said, “or I leave. My information for Verex’s safety. Yes or no.”
Arin met Kestrel’s gaze. Grim mouth, hooded eyes asking whether this was worth it.
She thought about the emperor’s hand on her father’s shoulder.
The key Verex had sent to the northern prison.
A friend. A good heart.
But Roshar wasn’t wrong.
Kestrel knew what her father would choose, in her place. She realized that she’d come to rely on his voice in her head, that it had saved her on the battlefield. Even now, the very thought of his advice was soothing . . . even as being so soothed repulsed her.
It didn’t matter what her father would choose. She was not her father.
“Yes,” Kestrel said. “I agree.”
