The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(100)
Then he went still. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. The storm has passed. Which means it will have ended south of here, so the Vencia ferrymen will already be on the water heading to Southwatch.”
So strange that she had to put her faith in the Tempest Seas, which she feared more than anything else, to protect both her peoples. Slowly, the tension seeped out of her. “Since it’s safe to go outside, I find myself fancying a proper bath.”
“Your wish is my command, Your Majesty,” he growled into her ear, flipping her over his shoulder and heading to the door. In the hallway, they encountered Eli, who bore a stuffed satchel on one shoulder.
“I’m doing a run to the barracks, Your Graces. Any messages you wish to relay?”
Aren hesitated. “Yes. Tell Jor I want to see him. After lunch.” He patted Lara meaningfully on the ass, laughing when she kneed him in the chest. “But for now, I need a bath.”
Several hours later, they were finishing a meal of grilled fish and citrus sauce when the door to the house slammed open.
Heedless of his mud-splattered boots, Jor tromped into the dining room and took a seat across from them. “Majesties.” His twinkling eyes moved back and forth between Lara and Aren as he snaked a cake from the tray. “How nice to see the two of you finally playing nice.”
Lara’s cheeks warmed, and she took a mouthful of fruit juice, hoping the glass would hide her embarrassment.
“And all it took to earn your affection was the poor boy jumping into shark-infested waters to save your ass.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m not sure I’m up for such acts of heroism. I suppose I’ll have to put aside the dream of taking you on when Aren gets himself killed with one of his stupid stunts.”
“Piss off, Jor.”
Lara only smiled. “Fortunately for you, I have a soft spot for elderly men.”
“Elderly?” Bits of cake flew from the guard’s mouth. “I’ll have you know, little miss, that I’m . . .”
“Enough, enough.” Aren filled the cup in front of Jor. “That’s not why you’re here.”
“Yes, do tell me why I had to drag my elderly ass up the hill to visit you two lovebirds.”
Lara turned in her chair to eye Aren, curious.
“How do the skies look?” he asked.
“Stick your head out the door and see for yourself.”
“Jor.”
“Clear.” The guard chewed slowly on another cake, brow furrowed with suspicion. “Why?”
Aren’s hand closed over Lara’s, his thumb tracing a circle against her palm. “Tell everyone to pack their things and ready the boats. I think it’s time we went home.”
35
Lara
Home.
To Lara, Midwatch was home, with its quiet serenity. But there was no mistaking the excitement on the faces of the guards as they tied their packs and loads of provision into a trio of boats, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. Wherever they were going was home for them, too, and the flurry of activity only bolstered Lara’s curiosity. There were no civilizations of size in Ithicana, nothing bigger than a fishing village, and the Maridrinian in her struggled to believe that the King of the Bridge Kingdom would call one of those home.
“Where are we going?” she asked Aren for the hundredth time.
He only gave her an amused smile and tossed her bag of possessions into the canoe. “You’ll see.”
She’d barely been allowed to take anything, only a set of her Ithicanian clothes, a selection of undergarments, and, at Aren’s request, one of her silk Maridrinian dresses, though of what use that would be in a fishing village, she didn’t know.
Nibbling on a fresh piece of root to help keep her stomach calm, Lara settled into the boat, staying out of the way as they exited the cove. Though the skies were relatively calm, the sea was full of branches and debris, and through the mist draping Midwatch, Lara noted the jungle had been severely damaged by the storm, trees felled and plants stripped of flowers and leaves.
The boats passed under the bridge, the island fading from sight, and Lara turned her gaze ahead as the sail was lifted, the brisk winds whisking them across the surf. They veered west, away from the snaking bridge, passing innumerable tiny landmasses, all which appeared uninhabited, although well she knew that in Ithicana, appearances could be deceiving.
They sailed for an hour when, rounding a smaller island, Lara’s eyes fell upon a veritable mountain rising out of the ocean. Not a mountain, she silently corrected herself. A volcano. The island itself was several times the size of Midwatch, the slopes of the volcano, which reached up to the sky, thick with verdant jungle. Azure waters slammed against cliff walls fifty feet high, with no signs of a beach or a cove. Impenetrable and, if the smoke rising from the peak was any indication, a dangerous place to inhabit.
Yet as they curved around the monolith, Jor lowered a sail, easing their speed even as Lia rose to her feet, hand balanced against Taryn’s shoulder as she scanned their surroundings. “No sails on the horizon,” she declared, and Aren nodded. “Run up the flag then.”
The bright green flag bisected by a curved black line was unfurled and raised to the top of the mast, the wind catching at it with an eagerness that was reflected on the faces of all the Ithicanians. They drew closer to the island and, shading her eyes with her hand against the glare off the water, Lara picked out a dark opening in the otherwise solid cliff walls.