The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(38)

They skirted the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, the water thirty feet below crashing violently against the rocks. Lara searched in both directions for a spot where men could land, but there was none. On the assumption it was the same way all around the island, she could see why the builders had chosen it as a pier. It was nearly impenetrable. Yet, given Aren had intended to come by boat, there must be a way.

The house appeared out of nowhere. One minute it was trees and vines and vegetation, the next, a solid stone structure, the windows flanked with the ubiquitous storm shutters that all buildings on Ithicana likely possessed. The stone was coated with green lichen, and as they approached, Lara determined it was made of the same material as the bridge, as were the outbuildings in the distance. Built to withstand the lethal tempests that battered Ithicana ten months of the year.

Coming around the house, she caught sight of a stooped figure working in a garden fenced by stone.

“Brace yourself,” Jor muttered.

“Finally deigned to grace me with your presence, Your Majesty?” The old woman didn’t rise or turn from her plants, but her voice was clear and strong.

“I only received your note last night, Grandmother. I came as soon as I could.”

“Ha!” The woman turned her head and spit, the glob flying clear over the garden wall to smack against a tree trunk. “Dragged your heels all the way here, I suspect. Either that or the weight of your crown is making you sluggish.”

Aren crossed his arms. “I don’t have a crown, which you well know.”

“It was a metaphor, you fool.”

Lara lifted a hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh. Somehow, the motion caught the old woman’s attention despite her back being turned. “Or is my grandson’s tardiness the result of him tarrying to wipe puke off your face, little princess?”

Lara blinked.

“Smelled you from a hundred paces away, girl. All those years in the dunes gave you no stomach for the waves, I take it?”

Flushing, Lara glanced at her clothes, which were still damp from falling out of the boat. When she looked back up, Aren’s grandmother was on her feet, an amused smile on her face. “It’s your breath,” she explained, and Lara struggled not to stomp on Aren’s foot when he covered his own mouth to hide a smirk. The old woman noticed.

“A little seasickness wouldn’t have killed her, you idiot. You shouldn’t have caved.”

“We took precautions.”

“Next time let her puke.” Her gaze shifted back to Lara. “They all call me Nana, so you can, too.” Then she pointed a finger at one of the guards. “You, pluck and dress that bird. And you two”—she jerked her chin at another pair—“finish picking these and then wash them up. And you.” She leveled a steely gaze at Lia. “There’s a basket of laundry that needs scrubbing. See it done before you go.”

Lia opened her mouth to protest, but Nana beat her to it. “What? Too good to scrub the skids from an old woman’s drawers? And before you say yes, remember that I wiped your shitty ass more times than I care to count when you were a babe. Be grateful that I can at least still do that much for myself.”

The tall guardswoman scowled but said nothing, only collected the basket and disappeared down the slope to retrieve water.

“I assume Jor has gone off to bother my students.” It took Nana pointing it out for Lara to realize with a start that the man had abandoned them without her noticing. “It still hasn’t sunk in that they aren’t interested in an old lecher like him.”

“Your girls can take care of themselves,” Aren replied.

“That wasn’t my point, now was it?” Nana pulled the gate to the garden shut, then shuffled in their direction. Her hair was solid silver, and her skin wrinkled, but her eyes were shrewd and discerning as she squinted at her grandson. “Teeth!”

The barked command made Lara jump, but without hesitation, Aren bent over and opened his mouth, allowing his grandmother to inspect his straight white teeth. She grunted with satisfaction and then patted his cheek. “Good boy. Now where’s your sister been? Avoiding me?”

“Ahnna’s teeth are fine, Grandmother.”

“Not her teeth that concern me. Has Harendell asked for her yet?”

“No.”

“Send her anyway. It shows good faith.”

“No.” The word came out of Aren as a growl, which surprised Lara. Surely he didn’t intend to break his contract with the northern kingdom? Not when he’d been willing to fulfill his half without argument?

“Ahnna doesn’t need your coddling, boy. She can take care of herself.”

“That’s between me and her.”

Nana grunted and spit before turning her attention to Lara. “So this is what Silas sent us, is it?”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Lara inclined her head with the same respect she’d have given a Maridrinian matron.

“We’ll see how long that pleasure lasts.” Faster than Lara would’ve believed an old woman could move, Nana reached over and gripped her by the hips, twisted her this way and that, before running her hands up Lara’s sides, laughing when Lara batted them away. “Built for bedding if not breeding.” She leveled a stare at her grandson. “Which I’m certain you’ve noticed, even if you haven’t availed yourself.”