The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(29)

“I don’t have time for carrying on a casual correspondence with your father, or”—he picked up the letter—“the Magpie, judging from the penmanship.”

Bloody hell, the Ithicanians were good. Lara averted her gaze. “Your time is clearly precious. Please do carry on with whatever it is you need to do.”

He started to turn, then hesitated, and from the corner of her eye, she watched him catch sight of the deck of cards she’d left sitting on the table. “You play?”

A mix of nerves and excitement filled her, the same feeling she got before stepping into the training yard to fight. This was a different kind of battle, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t win.

“Of course I play.”

He hesitated, then asked, “Do you care for a game?”

Shrugging, she picked up the deck and expertly shuffled, the cards making sharp snapping sounds in her hands. “Do you really wish to gamble with me, Your Majesty? I must warn you, I’m quite good.”

“One of your many talents?”

Lara’s heart skipped, and she wondered if he remembered more from their intimate encounter than she realized. Yet he only eyed her for a moment, then took the seat across from her, resting one booted foot on his knee. “Do you have any coin to bet, or am I risking my money on both sides of every wager?”

She gave him a cool smile. “Pick a different stake.”

“How about truths?”

Lara cocked one eyebrow. “That’s a children’s game. What are we to do next? Dare each other to run around the house naked?”

Because nudity had been more in line with what she’d thought he’d suggest. The cards were a trick of seduction that Mezat, their Mistress of the Bedroom, had taught the sisters. All men, she had told them, were happy to risk their own clothing for a chance to see naked breasts. Except, it turned out, for the King of Ithicana.

“We can save the naked sprints for storm season. It’s far more exciting if there’s lightning biting at your ass.”

Shaking her head, Lara shuffled the cards again. “Poker?” Best to choose a game in which she would not lose.

“How about Trumps?”

“More luck than skill in that game.”

“I know.” The way he said it was like a dare. And for better or worse, she never turned down a challenge, so she shrugged. “As you like. To nine?”

“Boring. How about a truth for each trump.”

Her mind raced with questions she might ask. With questions that he might ask, and the answers she’d give.

Reaching over to the corner table, Aren picked up a bottle of amber liquor, took a mouthful, then set it between them. “To make things more fun.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “There are glasses on the sideboard, you know.”

“Less work for Eli this way.”

Rolling her eyes, she took a mouthful. The brandy, as it turned out to be, burned like fire down her throat. Then she dealt the cards, silently cursing when he had the trump. “Well?”

Taking the bottle, Aren eyed her thoughtfully and Lara’s heart began to hammer. There were a thousand things he could ask, for which she had no answer. For which she’d have to lie, and then keep that lie alive for the length of her time here. And the more lies she had to balance, the greater chance of getting caught.

“What is”—he took a mouthful“—your favorite color?”

Lara blinked, her heart stuttering and then settling even as she looked away from his hazel eyes, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Green.”

“Excellent. Plenty of that about, so I need not ply your favor with emeralds.”

Giving a soft snort of amusement, Lara handed over the cards, which he swiftly shuffled and then dealt.

She won the next round.

“I’ll not ask you nonsense questions,” she warned, taking the bottle from him. Her questions needed to be strategic—not intended to uncover the secrets of the bridge, but to understand the man who held those secrets so close to his heart. “Did you take pleasure in killing those raiders? In watching them die?”

Aren winced. “Still angry about that, then?”

“A fortnight is not sufficient time for me to forget the cold-blooded slaughter of a ship full of men.”

“I suppose not.” Aren leaned back in the chair, eyes distant. “Pleasure.” He said the word as though he were tasting it, trying it out, then shook his head. “No, not pleasure. But there is a certain satisfaction to seeing them die.”

Lara said nothing, and her silence was rewarded a moment later.

“I’ve served at Midwatch since I was fifteen. Commanded it since I was nineteen. Over the past ten years, I’ve lost track of the number of battles I’ve fought against raiders. But I remember all thirteen times we were too late. When we reached our people after the raiders had their way with them. Families slaughtered. And for what? Fish? They have nothing worth taking. So instead they take their lives.”

Lara pressed the palms of her hands to her skirts, sweat soaking through the silk. “Why do they do it, then?”

“They think they can learn ways into the bridge through them. But the civilians don’t use the bridge. They don’t know its secrets. You’d think after all these years our enemies would have figured that out. Maybe they have.” His face twisted. “Maybe they just kill them for pleasure.”