The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(13)

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.

But that would accomplish nothing.

Stopping on the path, she stared up at the sky and took a series of breaths, finding calm in the sea of fire that was her soul. As delightful as gutting her husband would be, it wouldn’t solve Maridrina’s problems. Otherwise, her father would’ve sent an assassin a long time ago to do that very deed. It was not a matter of bringing down a man, but bringing down a kingdom, and to do that, she needed to play the long game. To delay her strike for when it would be most effective. To remember what she’d been trained for and why. To be the woman that her father had created to save their homeland.

A door slammed behind her, and Lara whirled around, expecting one of the servant women had come to offer her services.

She could not have been more mistaken.

The man was naked, save for the towel wrapped around his waist that kept him from being exposed to her entirely. But what she could see was more than enough. Tall and broad-shouldered, his muscled body was as defined as if it were carved from stone, his arms marked with old scars that were white against tanned flesh. And his face . . . Dark hair framed high cheekbones and a strong jaw, which were tempered by full lips. His eyes roved over her, making color rise to her cheeks.

“Of course of all the rooms she could’ve put you in, she chose that one,” he said, and the familiarity of his voice was like a pail of icy water being dumped over her head as she realized who was standing before her. All she saw now was that wicked mask, and all she heard was Maridrina will starve.

Lara’s hands twitched to the knives at her waist, but she covered the motion by adjusting the waist of her dress.

He wasn’t fooled. “Do you even know how to use those?”

The thought that she could kill this arrogant, condescending man where he stood danced through her head, but Lara only gave him a sweet smile. “I’ve cut my fair share of meat.”

His eyes brightened with interest. “So the little princess has a backbone after all.” Gesturing to her knives, he said, “I meant, do you know how to fight with them?”

To say no meant she could never be caught using them in any capacity without outing herself as a liar, so instead Lara cocked one bemused eyebrow. “I was raised to be your queen, not a common soldier.”

The interest in his eyes flickered out. Which would not do. She was supposed to seduce him and, in doing so, make him trust her. But for that to happen, he had to want her. The misting rain had made the silk of her dress damp, and she could feel it clinging to her breasts. She’d been trained for this. Had sat through countless lessons where she’d been taught precisely what she needed to do to catch a man’s interest. And to keep it. Arching her back, she said, “Are you here to claim what is your due?”