The Bridge Kingdom Page 4

  “Have our spies learned anything more about her?”

  Ahnna shook her head. “Nothing. He appears to have kept her hidden away in the desert, and until she rode out of the red sands, not even the Maridrinians knew her name.”

  “Why all the secrecy?”

  “They say it was for her protection. Not everyone is pleased about our alliance with Maridrina, Valcotta most of all.”

  Aren frowned, dissatisfied with the answer, though he could not say why. Maridrina and Valcotta were continually at war over the fertile stretch of land running down the western coast of the southern continent, the border contested by both kingdoms. It was possible the Valcottan Empress might have attempted to disrupt the alliance by assassinating the princess, but he thought it unlikely. For one, Silas Veliant had more daughters than he knew what to do with, and the treaty had not been specific about which girl would be sent. Two, every kingdom north and south knew that Aren’s marriage to a Maridrinian princess was nothing more than a symbolic act, all parties involved more interested in the trade terms underpinning the agreement and the peace they purchased. The treaty would have endured even if the princess had not.

  But third, and what troubled him most of all, was that it wasn’t Maridrinian nature to hide from anyone. If anything, Silas would have relished the assassination of a daughter or two because it would renew the flagging support of his people for the war against Valcotta.

  “She awake yet?”

  “No. I came down as soon as Nana deemed her a fit and healthy wife for you, because I wanted to be the one to share the wonderful news.”

  His twin’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and Aren shot her a warning look. “Lara is your queen now. Perhaps try showing her a little respect.”

  Ahnna responded by flipping him her middle finger. “What are you going to do with Queen Lara?”

  “With tits like that, I’d suggest bedding her,” a gravelly voice interjected.

  Aren turned to glare at Jor, the captain of his honor guard, who sat on the far side of the fire pit. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

  “What were they thinking, dressing her in silk in the pouring rain? Might as well have paraded her naked in front of us all.”

  Aren had, in fact, noticed. Even bedraggled by the rain, she’d been stunning, her form curved, her exquisite face framed by hair the color of honey. Not that he’d expected anything else. Despite being past his prime, the King of Maridrina remained a vital man, and it was known he chose the majority of his wives for beauty and nothing else.

  The thought of the other king made Aren’s stomach sour. He recalled the smug expression on the Silas’s face as he handed his precious daughter over.

  It was an expression the Rat King was entitled to.

  While Ithicana was now bound to new and undesirable trade terms, all the King of Maridrina had given up was one of his innumerable children and a promise to continue the peace that had stood between the two kingdoms for the past fifteen years. And not for the first time, Aren cursed his parents for making his marriage to Maridrina part of the agreement.

  “A piece of paper with three signatures will do little to unite our kingdoms,” his mother had always replied when he complained. “Your marriage will be the first step toward creating a true alliance between peoples. You will lead by example and, in doing so, you will ensure Ithicana does more than just survive by the skin of its teeth. And if that means nothing to you, then remember that your father gave his word on my behalf.”

  And an Ithicanian always kept his word. Which was why, on the fifteenth anniversary of the agreement, despite his parents being a year dead, Aren had sent word to Maridrina to bring their princess to be wed.

  “Can’t argue that she’s easy on the eyes. I can only hope I’ll be so lucky.” Though Ahnna’s voice was light, Aren didn’t miss how her hazel eyes turned dull at the mention of her half of the bargain. The King of Harendell, their neighbor to the north, had yet to send for his son’s Ithicanian bride, but with Aren now wed to Lara, it was only a matter of time. Harendell would know by now the terms Maridrina had negotiated, and they’d be keen to extract their own pound of flesh. Both deals would incite retaliation from Amarid. The other northern kingdom’s relationship with Ithicana was already fraught with conflict, given that their merchant ships competed for business with the bridge.

  Giving Jor a meaningful look, Aren waited until his honor guard made themselves scarce before saying to his sister in a low voice, “I won’t make you marry the prince, if you don’t wish to. I’ll compensate them some other way. Harendell is more pragmatic than Maridrina; they can be bought.” Because it was one thing for Aren to take a girl he hadn’t chosen and never met as a bride for the sake of peace. Quite another to give his sister to a foreign kingdom, where she’d be alone in a strange place to be used however they willed.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Aren. You know I’ll put the good of our kingdom first,” Ahnna muttered, but she leaned against his left shoulder, where she’d stood with him and fought for him all of their lives. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

  That was because he didn’t know what he was going to do with Lara.

  “We can’t let our guard down,” Ahnna said. “Silas might have promised peace, but don’t for a second believe he intends to honor that for the sake of her. The bastard would probably sacrifice a dozen daughters if it saw us lowering our defenses.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “She might be beautiful,” his sister continued, “but never believe for a heartbeat that isn’t by design. She’s the daughter of our enemy. He wants you to be distracted by her. She’s probably been instructed to seduce you, to find out what she can about Ithicana’s secrets on the hope she’ll be able to pass them back to her father. We don’t need him holding that kind of bargaining chip.”

  “How, exactly, would she manage that? It isn’t as though we’ll be sending her home for visits. She’ll have no contact with anyone outside of Ithicana. He has to know that.”

  “Better to be safe. Better that she be kept in the dark.”

  “So I should keep her locked up in our parents’ home on this empty island for the rest of her days?” Aren stared at the glowing embers of the fire. A gust of wind drove rain into the hole in the roof above, the droplets hissing as they struck the charred wood. “And if”—he swallowed hard, knowing he had obligations to his kingdom—“when we have a child, should I keep him or her locked up here as well?”

  “I never said it would be easy.” His sister took his hand, twisting it upright to regard the cut across his palm, bleeding where he’d picked at the scab. “But our duty is to protect our people. To keep Eranahl a secret. To keep it safe.”

  “I know.” But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel an obligation to his new bride. Whom he’d brought through the dark stretches of the bridge, knowing that when she woke, it would be in a place entirely different than any she’d known. Not the life she’d chosen, but one that had been forced upon her.

  “You should go up to the house,” Ahnna said. “The sedative will wear off soon enough.”

  “You go.” Aren lay back down on the bench, listening to the thunder rolling over the island, the storm nearly passed, though it would soon be replaced by another. “She’s been through enough without waking up in a room with a strange man.”

  Ahnna looked for a moment like she might argue, then nodded. “I’ll send word when she wakes.” Rising, she left the barracks on silent feet, leaving him alone.

  You’re a coward, he thought to himself. Because it had only been an excuse to avoid seeing the girl. His mother had believed that this princess was the key to achieving greatness for Ithicana, but Aren wasn’t convinced.

  Ithicana needed a queen who was a warrior. A woman who’d fight to the death for her people. A woman who was cunning and ruthless, not because she wanted to be, but because her country needed her to be. A woman who’d challenge him every day for the rest of his life. A woman Ithicana would
respect.

  And there was one thing he was certain: Lara Veliant was not that woman.

  6

  Lara

  Lara woke with a start, her head aching and her mouth tasting sour.

  Without moving, she opened her eyes, taking in what she could of the bedroom. She spotted an open window, through which poured a humid breeze filled with the scents of flowers and lush greenery she possessed no names for, having spent her life surrounded by sand. The view was of a verdant garden, the light flat and silvery, as though it were filtered through thick clouds. The only sound was the faint pitter-patter of rain.

  And that of a female humming.

  She relaxed the hand that had instantly balled into a fist, primed to attack, and slowly turned her head.

  An extraordinarily striking woman, perhaps five years older than Lara, with long, curling dark hair, stood in the center of the room wearing one of Lara’s dresses. One of Marylyn’s dresses, she realized with a pang.

  Seeing the way she’d cocked her head, Lara knew the other woman had heard her move, but she carried on as though she had not, swishing the too-short silken skirts from side to side, continuing with her humming.

  Lara said nothing, taking in the carved fruitwood furniture that was polished to a shine and vases of brilliant flowers sat on nearly every flat surface. The floors were made of tiny pieces of wood laid out in elaborate designs; the walls were plastered white and decorated with vibrant artwork. A door led to what appeared to be a bathing chamber and another, shut, which she assumed led to a hallway beyond. Satisfied that she had the lay of her surroundings, Lara asked, “Where am I?”

  “Oh, you’re awake!” the woman said with feigned surprise. “You’re in the king’s home on Midwatch Island.”

  “I see.” If Midwatch was, as the name suggested, in the middle of Ithicana, she’d been unconscious for longer than she’d realized. They’d drugged her, which meant they did not trust her. No surprise there. “How did I get here?”

  “You arrived at Midwatch by sea.”

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “You weren’t precisely asleep. Just not . . . present.” The woman gave her an apologetic shrug. “Forgive us. It’s in every Ithicanian’s nature to be secretive, and we are still coming to terms with having an outsider in our midst.”

  “So it would seem,” Lara murmured, noticing that the woman hadn’t answered her question, though she knew exactly what they’d dosed her with and why. Keeping a person unconscious for days had consequences—often of the fatal variety. Drugging her to wipe her memory was safer.

  But fallible. Especially when the individual being dosed had been exposed in the past. Already, shadows of memory were creeping around the edges of Lara’s thoughts. Memories of walking. Walking in ill-fitting footwear on a hard surface. She’d been in the bridge, and at some point along its length, they’d brought her out.

  Refocusing her gaze on the woman, she asked, “Why are you wearing my dress?”

  “You have a whole chest of them. I was hanging them up for you, and I thought I’d try one on to see if I liked it.”

  Lara cocked one eyebrow. “And do you?”

  “Oh, yes.” The stranger arched her back, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “Entirely impractical, but appealing nonetheless. I could use one or two in my own closet.” Reaching up one hand, she pushed the dress’s straps off her shoulders, allowing it to slide down her body and pool on the floor at her feet.

  She wore not a scrap underneath, her body all curved muscle, her breasts small and pert.

  “Gorgeous gown you wore for your wedding, by the way.” She pulled a short-sleeved tunic over her head, then tugged a pair of snug trousers on beneath. There were a set of vambraces sitting on the floor, and she buckled those on as though she’d done so a thousand times. “I’d ask to borrow it for my own part in the Fifteen Year Treaty, but I’m afraid it took a bit of wear on your journey.”

  Lara blinked, realization dawning on her. “You’re the Ithicanian Princess?”

  “Among other things.” The woman grinned. “But I don’t want to give away all our secrets. My brother would never forgive me.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Your husband.” Picking up a bow and quiver, the woman—the princess—strode across the floor. “I’m Ahnna.” She bent down to kiss Lara’s cheek. “And I, for one, am so looking forward to getting to know you, sister.”

  There was a knock at the door, and a servant carrying a platter of sliced fruits entered, setting the food on a table before announcing that dinner would be at the seventh hour.

  “I’ll leave you alone,” Ahnna said. “Give you a chance to get settled. I’m sure waking up here was quite the shock.”

  After years of Serin’s aggressive tutelage, it would take a great deal more than waking in a feather bed to shock Lara, but she allowed a faint tremor into her voice as she said, “The king . . . Is he . . . Will he . . .”

  Ahnna shrugged. “Aren is not horribly predictable in his comings and goings, I’m afraid. Better that you make yourself comfortable rather than wait for him to come home. Have a bath. Eat some fruit. Have a drink. Or ten.”

  A flash of disappointment surged through Lara, but she gave Ahnna a smile before shutting the door and flipping the latch. She stared at the bit of metal for a long moment, surprised the Ithicanians would allow her privacy, then she set aside the thought. Everything she knew about them was more speculation than fact. Better to approach her circumstances as though she knew nothing at all.

  After donning the gown Ahnna had discarded and belting on her knives, which she was surprised to find sitting on top of her trunk, Lara circled the room looking for signs she was being spied on, but there were no holes in the walls or the ceiling, no cracks in the floorboards. Picking up her tray of fruit, she wandered into what she’d presumed to be the bathing chamber, only to discover it devoid of anything resembling a bath, despite the wooden shelves laden with soft towels, scrubs, soaps, and whole collection of brushes and combs. However, there was another door.

  Lara pushed the solid slab of wood open, revealing a sloped courtyard resplendent with a lushness she had never seen before. The walls of the building were concealed by climbing vines laden with brilliant flowers of pink and purple and orange, and two trees with enormous split leaves climbed toward the sky, several colorful birds sitting on their branches. A pathway made of square cut stones framed by tiny white rocks meandered through the courtyard, but what took her breath away was the stream flowing through the center of everything.

  The building, she realized as she stepped into the courtyard, had been constructed almost like a bridge over a small waterfall. The water cascaded over slabs of rock into a pool below, which flowed through a channel to another pool, and then yet another, before running under the far side of the home to whatever lay beyond.

  At the base of the waterfall, by the pool, she noted the curved stone benches beneath the water. This was where one was intended to bathe. Steam rose faintly from its surface and a quick dip of her toe turned her skin pink with heat. There was only one other entrance to the courtyard, and that was a door opposite to the one leading to her rooms.

  Crossing the stream using a small footbridge, Lara walked up to the door and silently tested the handle. Locked. The rooms beyond also had a window that mirrored hers, but it was closed and curtained.

  Tilting her head skyward revealed nothing but swirling clouds, and a quick test of the vines on the walls revealed them strong enough to bear her weight, should she choose to climb out. Countless ways to escape, which meant this home was not intended to be a prison.

  A voice caught her attention.

  “She’s awake then?”

  Aren.

  “About a half hour ago.”

  “And?”

  Lara hurried down the path next to the spring, dropping to her knees where the water flowed under the building.

  “She was calmer than I anticipated. Mostly she
wanted to know why I was wearing one of her dresses. I suppose we all have our priorities.”

  Silence. Then, “Why were you wearing one of her dresses?”

  “Because they were pretty and I was bored.”

  The king snorted, and Lara crawled forward a few feet under the building until she could see their legs. He had a bow held loosely in one hand, which he swung back and forth. She wanted to go farther, to attempt to see his face, but she couldn’t risk being heard.

  “She say anything of note?”

  “I’ve had more exciting conversations with your cat. Your dinners together are destined to be lively affairs.”

  “Shocking.” The king kicked a rock, sending it bouncing into the stream, splashing Lara in the face. “Most precious daughter, my ass. I’d bet he has boots that are more precious to him than that girl.”

  I’ll take that bet, you self-righteous bastard, Lara thought.

  He added, “These concessions weren’t what I wanted out of this treaty, Ahnna. I don’t like them, and I don’t want to sign the order.”

  “You have to. Maridrina fulfilled their end of the deal. If we break faith, there will be consequences, the loss of peace being the first of them.”

  They both started walking, then there was a scrape of boots, the measured thuds of two people walking up stairs, and Ahnna’s voice was faint as she said, “Giving the Maridrinian King what he wants will make him depend on us all the more. It might pay off.”

  And just barely, Lara heard his response: “Maridrina will starve before it ever sees the benefit of this treaty.”

  The embers of Lara’s fury burned hot on the heels of his words, memories of the gaunt children she’d seen on the streets of her kingdom filling her eyes. Straightening, she stormed up the path to her room, intent on finding that asshole of a king and plunging one of her knives into his wicked, Ithicanian guts.