The Bridge Kingdom Page 7

“He’s at the barracks?”

  “On the water.”

  “Of course he is.” The commander of the Kestark garrison—south of Midwatch —was a member of the old guard. He was appointed near the end of Aren’s grandfather’s life, and Aren’s mother had spent nearly her entire reign looking for a legitimate reason to have him replaced, with no success. The old bastard clung to Ithicanian tradition like a barnacle to a boat, and Aren had not failed to notice that of all the Watch Commanders, Aster had been the only one who hadn’t been at his wedding. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  The mist hung in the air like a great grey blanket, reducing the sun to a silver orb and making it impossible to see more than a few dozen paces in either direction. Down at the cove, Ahnna’s bodyguard awaited her, as did his own, the men and women silently pushing their craft out into the water. Ahnna joined him in one of the Midwatch vessels.

  The air was still, not a breeze to fill a sail, and the rattling of the chain rising from where it blocked the cove’s entrance felt like a vulgar violation of the silence. Paddles dipped in and out of the water as the group eased around hazards lurking only a few feet beneath the surface, moving out into the open and toward the hulking shadow of the bridge.

  “Aren.”

  Turning to look at his twin, Aren tracked her gaze to the water, where he caught sight of an enormous shape moving beneath them. The shark was longer than the boat he sat in—and more than capable of destroying it, should it feel inclined—but that wasn’t why Ahnna had pointed out the predator. Its arrival heralded a calming of the Tempest Seas, and it wouldn’t be long before Ithicana’s waters were red with blood.

  His spine prickled and Aren reached for a spyglass, panning their surroundings, his efforts yielding nothing but grey. A fine thing for hiding the comings and goings of his people, but it served their enemy just as well.

  “It’s weeks early. Nana hasn’t called the end of the season yet.” But for all Ahnna’s words, he noticed her hand had drifted to the weapon belted at her waist, her eyes watchful. “I need to get back to Southwatch.”

  Through the mist a pair of vessels appeared. Aster—always one for overt symbolism—having chosen to wait directly beneath the bridge.

  “Your Grace.” The older man reached out to pull the two boats together. “I’m relieved to see you well.”

  “Were you expecting otherwise?” The vessels rocked as his guards switched places with the commander, giving the three of them some semblance of privacy.

  “Given what you’ve brought into your house, yes.”

  “She’s little more than a girl, alone, and at our mercy. I think I can handle myself.”

  “Even a child can slip poison into a cup. And the Maridrinians are known for it.”

  “Rest easy, Aster, my life is in no danger from Lara. Silas Veliant is no fool—he knows that having his daughter assassinate me would only cost him his new trade deal with Ithicana.”

  “Lara.” Aster spat into the water. “I can hear in your voice that she’s already digging in her claws. You must know there’s a reason they sent a woman as beautiful as her.”

  “How would you know what she looks like, Commander?” Ahnna interrupted. “I didn’t see you at the wedding, though I suppose it’s possible you were hiding in the back.”

  Aren bit down on his tongue. The Kestark commander was short for an Ithicanian, and he did not like to be reminded of it.

  “I’ve heard what she looks like.” Aster’s gaze was as dead-eyed as the shark’s swimming beneath as he regarded them. “I did not attend, because I did not support your choice in taking her as your wife.”

  He wasn’t alone in that. There were a great many, especially the older generation, who’d protested the union vehemently. “Then why are you here now?”

  “To give you some advice, Your Grace. Take the Maridrinian girl down to the water and drown her. Hold her under until you’re well and sure she’s dead, then feed her corpse to the sea.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  “I’m not in the habit of murdering innocent women,” Aren finally said.

  “Innocent. There’s a word.” Aster scowled, casting his gaze up at the bridge above them before turning it back on Aren. “I forget how young you are, Your Grace. You were only a boy kept safe in Eranahl the last time we went to war with Maridrina. You didn’t fight in those battles where they threw their entire navy against us, blockading Southwatch and stymying trade, all while our people starved. You weren’t there when Silas Veliant realized that he couldn’t win by force and took his vengeance on the outlying islands, his soldiers slaughtering families and stringing their bodies up for the birds to feast on.”

  Aren hadn’t been old enough to fight, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember how desperate his parents had been when they proposed the treaty to Maridrina and Harendell. “We’ve had fifteen years of peace with them, Aster. Fifteen years of Silas not lifting a hand against Ithicana.”

  “He’s still the same man!” Aster roared. “And you’ve taken one of his progeny into your bed! I’ve taken you for many things, Aren Kertell, but not until now did I take you to be a fool.”

  Ahnna had a knife in her hand, but Aren gave her a warning shake of the head. He’d spent the past year being pushed and questioned by his Watch Commanders and it would take more than a few insults to crack his temper. “I know as well as anyone what sort of man Silas Veliant is, Commander. But this treaty has bought us peace and stability with Maridrina, and I will do nothing to jeopardize that.”

  Aren waited for the other man to settle, then continued. “While the rest of the world moves forward, Ithicana languishes. Our only industry is the bridge and the fight to keep the bridge. We grow nothing. We create nothing. We know nothing but war and survival. Our children grow up learning a hundred ways to kill a man, but are barely literate enough to write their own names. And that’s not good enough.”

  Aster stared him down, having heard this speech before. But Aren would repeat it a thousand times if that was what it took for men like Aster to accept the change that Ithicana needed.

  “We need alliances—true alliances. Alliances that go beyond pieces of paper signed by kings. Alliances that will allow our people opportunities beyond the sword.”

  “You’re a dreamer, just like your mother was.” Aster lifted a hand, signaling to the other boats to return. “And it’s a beautiful future you envision, I’ll give you that, Your Grace. But it’s not Ithicana’s future.”

  The boats bumped together, and the commander jumped between them, settling himself among his guards. “And lest your dream turn into our nightmare, do us all a favor, Your Grace, and keep that woman locked up.”

  9

  Lara

  Lara slept better than she had in some time, in part due to the narcotics, and in part due to the silence. Her sleep during the journey through Maridrina had been constantly interrupted by ambient noise. Soldiers, servants, horses, camels . . . But here, there were only the faint sounds of birds chirping in the courtyard trees.

  It was peaceful.

  But that sense of peacefulness was a cloak that hid the violent truth of this place. And the violent truth of herself.

  Dressing quietly, Lara ventured out in the direction of the dining room. She braced herself for the possibility that Aren would remember what happened in his room last night. That he’d realize she’d drugged him and her mission would be over before it had even started.

  The table was loaded with trays of sliced fruits and meats, creamy yogurt, and tiny little pastries sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg. But her eyes were all for the view out the enormous windows. Though it was late morning, the sunlight was dimmed by a filter of clouds, making it no brighter than twilight. Yet it revealed what the darkness last night had hidden: the wild jungle, the trees soaring high, the foliage beneath so dense as to be impenetrable, all of it coated with mist.

  “Where is His Majesty?” she asked Eli, hoping he didn’
t notice the color that had risen on her cheeks. Circumstances had wrested free from her control last night. In more ways than one.

  The older servant woman gave Eli a sharp glance. “His Majesty is early to rise. He has gone with the commander to ensure the new trade terms with Maridrina have been conveyed to Northwatch and Southwatch markets.”

  Thank god. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to be face-to-face with him. Not after the things they’d done, whether he remembered them or not. Lara gave the woman a grave nod, hoping it hid her discomfort. “The new trade terms will be a godsend for my homeland. Only good can come from it.”

  A shadow seemed to pass over the older servant’s gaze, but she only inclined her head. “As you say, my lady.”

  “What is your name? I’ve met Eli, and I should like to know the rest of you better.”

  “It’s Clara, my lady. Eli is my nephew, and my sister, Moryn, is the cook.”

  “Only you three?” Lara asked, recalling the legion of servants that had accompanied her party from the outskirts of the Red Desert to Ithicana.

  A slow smiled worked its way onto Clara’s face. “His Majesty was in the habit of staying in the company of his soldiers rather than this house. Though I expect your presence will change that, my lady.”

  There was a faint glint in the servant’s eyes that made Lara’s cheeks warm. “Do you know when he will return?”

  “He did not say, my lady.”

  “I see.” Lara allowed a hint of disappointment to enter her voice.

  Satisfaction filled her as the woman’s face softened. “He is kept busy during most days, but his stomach will drive him home for dinner, if nothing else.”

  “Am I restricted in where I might go?”

  “The house is yours, my lady. His Majesty requested that you make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thank you.” Lara then left them to clear the table as she began her tour of the house.

  Besides her rooms and Aren’s there were four other bedrooms, the dining room, kitchen, and servants’ quarters. The entire rear side of the home was filled with overstuffed chairs, a variety of games set on the tables, and walls lined with books. She longed to pick them up, but only trailed a finger along the spines before moving on. Every room was filled with windows, but the view was the same from them all: jungle. Beautiful, but utterly devoid of civilization. Maybe this is what Ithicana is like, Lara thought. The bridge, the jungle, and little else.

  Or maybe that’s just want they wanted her to think.

  Retreating to her rooms, she examined the selection of Ithicanian clothes in the closet, selecting a pair of trousers and a tunic that left her arms bare, as well as a pair of stiff leather boots, and then walked down the hall and out the front door of the house.

  Test your limits in a way that won’t make them suspect your capabilities, Serin silently instructed. They expect you to be ignorant, helpless, and indulged. Capitalize upon their mistakes.

  Anticipating that she might be followed, Lara started walking. There was a path that lead upward, but instead she chose to follow the spring, knowing that it would eventually deliver her to the sea.

  It was only a matter of minutes until she heard the faint tread of someone walking behind her. The crack of a branch. A soft splash of water. Whoever it was had a hunter’s stealth, but she’d learned to tell the difference between sand shifting on the wind and that moving beneath a man’s weight, so catching the errant sounds of pursuit in this jungle was nothing to her.

  Noting the signs of several booby traps in the jungle, Lara continued to follow the stream, soon finding herself drenched with rain and sweat, the humidity of the air making her feel like she was breathing water, but still, she had caught sight of neither bridge nor beach. Nor had her follower made any move to interfere.

  She rested a hand against a tree trunk and feigned weariness as she stared up, trying and failing to penetrate the canopy and the mist.

  Serin had explained in detail what they knew about the bridge. That the majority of the piers were natural towers of rock jutting out of the sea, holding the spans often a hundred or two hundred feet above the water. There were only a few islands onto which the bridge landed, and those were defended by all manner of hazards designed to sink ships. The most central of her goals was to find out how the Ithicanians accessed the bridge along its length, but she needed to find the thing first.

  The stream was flowing down an increasingly steep slope, the now cool water pouring over ledges in tiny waterfalls, filling the air with a gentle roar. Holding onto vines and bracing herself on rocks, Lara picked her way down, already dreading the pain of the climb back up.

  Then her boot slipped.

  The world turned sideways, a blur of green as she tumbled, her elbow knocking painfully against a rock. Then she was falling.

  Lara shrieked once, flailing her arms as she struggled to catch hold of a vine. She slammed into a pool of water, the force driving the wind out of her. Water closed over her head, bubbles streaming from her mouth as she kicked and thrashed her arms. Her boots knocked against the bottom, and she bent her knees to kick off . . .

  To find herself only waist deep.

  “Bloody hell,” Lara snarled, wading to the water’s edge. But before she reached shore, a hiss caught her attention.

  Freezing where she stood, Lara scanned her surroundings, eyes landing on the brown and black snake shifting angrily in the underbrush. The creature was longer than she was tall, and it was caught between her and the cliff wall. She took a tentative step back into the water, but her motion only seemed to agitate the creature. This is what she got for not heeding Eli’s warning.

  It took a great deal of self-control not to reach for one of the knives belted to her waist, her ears picking up the scuff of boots and a faintly muttered oath. Throwing knives were her specialty, but her follower was at the top of the cliff and the last thing she needed was to be seen using one of her weapons.

  The snake reared up, its head eye level with her. Hissing. Angry. Ready to strike. Lara breathed steadily. In and out. Come on, whoever you are, she silently grumbled. Deal with this creature already.

  The snake swayed from side to side, and Lara’s nerve began to fray. Her hand closed over her knife, her finger clicking open the case around the hilt.

  The snake lunged.

  A bow twanged, a black-fletched arrow spiking the creature’s head to the ground. Its body thrashed about violently, then went still. Lara turned.

  Aren knelt on the edge of the waterfall she’d so gracelessly toppled off, bow in hand, a quiver full of arrows peeking over his broad shoulders. He straightened. “We have something of a snake problem in Ithicana. Not so bad on this island in particular, but”—he leapt off the edge, landing almost silently next to her—“if she’d sunk her teeth into you, you wouldn’t have been long for this world.”

  Lara glanced at the dead snake and its body twitched. Despite herself, she flinched, and she attempted to conceal the motion with a question. “How can you tell it’s female?”

  “Size. The males don’t get this big.” Crouching, he jerked the arrow out of the animal’s skull. Wiping blood and bits of scale from the arrowhead, which was three-edged, unlike the barbed broadheads Maridrinians favored, he turned his dark gaze on Lara. “You were supposed to stay in the house.”

  She opened her mouth, about to tell him that she’d been given no such instruction, when he added, “Don’t play the fool. You knew what Clara meant.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I don’t care for being confined.”

  He snorted, then jammed the clean arrow back in his quiver. “I would’ve thought you’d be used to it.”

  “I am used to it. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “You were kept locked up in that desert compound for your own safety. Consider my motivations for keeping you confined here the same. Ithicana is dangerous. For one, the entire island is booby-trapped. And two, you won’t walk two paces wi
thout passing by some manner of creature capable of putting you in your grave. And three, a coddled little princess like you doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of herself.”

  Lara ground her teeth together. It took every ounce of control in her body to keep from telling him just how wrong he was on that account.

  “That said, you did make it farther than I expected you would,” Aren mused, his eyes raked over her body, her soaking wet clothes clinging to her skin. “What did they have you and your sisters doing on that compound? Running laps and shoveling sand?”

  It was an inevitable question. While her frame was small, she was also corded with lean muscle from endless hours of training—hers was not the body of most Maridrinian noblewomen. “Desert living is hard. And my father wanted me prepared for the . . . vigor of life in Ithicana.”

  “Ah.” He smiled. “How unfortunate that he didn’t also prepare you for the wildlife.” Reaching up with his bow, he flicked the tip of it across her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, Lara watched a black shape sail through the air.

  A spider the size of her palm landed in the dirt before scuttling off into the shadows. She watched it with interest, wondering if it was poisonous. “No worse than the Red Desert’s scorpions.”

  “Perhaps not. But I suspect the Red Desert isn’t littered with these.” Picking up a rock, he tossed it a dozen paces to the left.

  There was a loud crack, and a board covered in wooden spikes snapped up from the ground. Anyone who triggered the device would find themselves sporting half a dozen holes in their body from the waist down. She’d seen the dew clinging to the tripwire a dozen paces back, but in fairness, it would’ve caught her in the dark. “You’ve won the pissing contest,” she said in a way that implied he really hadn’t. “Shall we carry on?”

  Instead of snapping back with a witty rejoinder, Aren stepped closer, his hand closing on her wrist. Lara should’ve recoiled, but instead she froze, remembering the feel of that hand on her naked body, the soft strokes up and down her thigh.