Adare shook her head wearily, staring out at the waves. The best wines in the world came from Sia, reds and whites both. She could go south, take a room in a tiny whitewashed house overlooking the lake, spend her days baking and fishing. . . . And then il Tornja would win. He would destroy her empire as he had murdered her father. She tore her eyes from the water, turning back to Nira.

“All right,” she said. “Prophet. As long as I don’t have to push the story myself. As long as that’s it.”

“It?” Nira asked, brows rising. “It?”

“Yes. It. I’m doing this to see il Tornja captured, tried, and killed. Not so I can follow in the footsteps of Maayala.”

“And if ya succeed?” the woman demanded. “What then?”

“Then Kaden will take his place on the Unhewn Throne—”

“Kaden!” Nira hooted. “Your poor bastard of a brother’s feeding the crows by now. Ya think the ’Kent-kissing kenarang went t’all the trouble ta gut your father just so Kaden could dance back home and plant his bony, ignorant ass on the throne?”

Adare held up a hand. “I realize he may have gone after Kaden. The delegation sent north, the one with Adiv and Ut, they could have been part of the plot.” She shook her head at the magnitude of the suggestion. “But could il Tornja really win over both the Mizran Councillor and the First Shield of the Aedolian Guard? And if he wants Kaden dead so badly, why didn’t he kill me? I would have been the easiest target of all.”

Nira looked her up and down, then snorted. “You were worth more to him bedded than dead. And there was no threat that you’d take the throne.” She pursed her withered lips. “Is there?”

Adare let out a long, slow breath. “Annur would never accept me on the throne. And Kaden . . .”

The old woman waved the name aside. “I’ve heard about enough a’ Kaden. He’s dead, girl. Dead as meat.”

Adare glanced down at her hands and realized she’d torn a nail right down to the quick. Blood pooled in the nail bed, then, when she tried to wipe it away, smeared across her hand. In all the long march south, she hadn’t allowed herself to think beyond the need to win over the Sons, and now that she had them, all she could consider was il Tornja’s destruction. Nira was right, though. If they did succeed, if the kenarang didn’t plant all of their heads on spikes over the Godsgate, someone would need to rule Annur.

“I could do it,” she said slowly.

Nira smiled, a tight, grim expression. “You’re a thickheaded bitch, Adare, but when you’re in the shit deep enough, at least ya know ta start swimmin’.”