The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(28)

“And if she does?” Jor asked.

“I’ll cross that bridge when it comes.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

In a way, if Lara was, in fact, an innocent girl who’d been sent to secure a peace treaty, it made Aren’s task harder than if they exposed her as a spy. Because he had his own agenda when it came to his Maridrinian wife, and he wouldn’t get very far with it if she hated his guts. “I’ll win her over, I suppose.”

Lia’s drink sprayed out from between her lips. “Good luck with that, Your Grace.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “I won you over.”

Lia gave him a look that implied he was the stupidest creature to walk the earth. “She and I are not the same.”

Yet it wasn’t until Lara had continued to give him the cold shoulder for one night, then a week, then two, that he started to think that maybe Lia had been right.





12





Lara





The weeks after the shipwreck and the slaughter on the beach passed without incident. Aren rose at dawn and didn’t return until late in the evening, but he didn’t leave her unattended. Wise to Lara’s prior unsanctioned exploration of the island, the servants kept close watch on her, Clara always seeming to be dusting or mopping nearby, the scent of wood polish perpetually thick on the nose. Though in truth, the storms that passed overhead did more than the servants or guards ever could to keep Lara contained. Violent winds, lightning, and a ceaseless deluge of rain were regular occurrences. Moryn, the cook, told her these were the last gasps of the season and nothing in comparison to the typhoons she’d witness when the next began.

Though she was desperate to get another look at the opening into the pier, Lara, by design, did nothing to provoke interest, using the time to discreetly search the home for any clues that might assist in planning Maridrina’s invasion of Ithicana. Maps were her primary goal, and the one thing she failed to find. Serin had countless documents detailing the islands that made up the kingdom, on which a long line depicting the bridge was always drawn, but none with any detail. Lara had now seen for herself—the kingdom was nearly impossible to infiltrate due to the lack of beaches, compounded by the defenses in the water, which the Ithicanians seemed capable of shifting and changing at will.

The other mystery was where the islanders themselves resided. No civilizations of size had ever been spotted from the sea, and successful landings and raids only spoke of small villages, leading Serin and her father both to believe the population small, violent, and uncivilized, dedicated to basic needs, vicious defense of their bridge, and little else. But though she’d only been in Ithicana a short time, Lara was not inclined to agree with that assessment.

It was what Aren had said to her in the tower. The bridge . . . For Ithicana, it’s everything. And Ithicana is everything to me.

The tone in his voice showed genuine sentiment. There were civilians here. Civilians Aren believed needed protection, and all of her training told her they would be Ithicana’s greatest weakness. She need only determine where they were and how to exploit that knowledge. Then pass it back to Maridrina.

She’d sent her first letter to her father already, a code-free missive carefully crafted to ensure it gave no reason for the Ithicanians to detain it. A test to see if Aren would allow her to correspond before she attempted the riskier task of trying to get intel past the codebreakers at Southwatch.

Proof that Aren had been true to his word came in a response from her father. And the letter was delivered by none other than King Aren himself.

She’d seen him arriving home through the window, soaking wet from the most recent downpour, and not for the first time, she wondered what it was he did during his days. More often than not he returned wet, muddy, and smelling of sweat, his face shadowed with weariness. Part of her had wanted to approach him—had feared that she’d erred her strategy of gaining his trust and had alienated him entirely. But another part had told her that she’d made the right choice in forcing him to come to her.

“This arrived in Southwatch for you.” He dropped the folded pieces of paper in her lap. He was bathed and changed into dry clothes now, but the exhaustion lingered.

“You read it, I assume.” She unfolded the letter, noting Serin’s spidery imitation of her father’s script and feeling the faintest stab of disappointment. Of course it had been him to write it. He knew the codes, not her father. She set it aside, not wanting to read it just yet.

“You know I did. And to save you the trouble, my codebreakers helpfully translated the piss-poor code. Transcription is on the back. I’ll let the deception slide this time because it didn’t come from you, but there won’t be any second chances.”

So much for Marylyn’s unbreakable code. Flipping over the page, she read aloud, “Relieved that you are well, dearest daughter. Send word if you are mistreated, and we will retaliate.”

Aren snorted.

“What did you expect? That he’d marry me off to you and not care what became of me?”

“More or less. He got what he wanted.”

“Well, now you know otherwise.” And now she knew that getting information out of Ithicana would be just as challenging as predicted. “Perhaps you might send him a letter yourself reassuring him of your good intentions.”