The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(52)

“Damn you for making me do this.”

Aren laughed, which pissed her off enough to take the first step.

Lara’s boot filled with water, the current shoving against her leg, then dragging her in the opposite direction as it surged. She clung to Aren’s belt, feeling Taryn’s steadying hand on her shoulder from behind.

Step.

Step.

Her toe caught on a rock, and Lara stumbled, a sob tearing from her throat as she caught her balance.

Step.

Step.

A large wave surged against her, and she slid sideways, her legs washing out from under her. She was up to her waist in water, only her grip on Aren’s belt keeping her upright. Her scream cut the night, frantic and desperate and primal, then his hands closed around her arms, dragging her from the water.

“You’re out. It’s all right. Worst is over.”

“The second I’m on dry land, I’m going to gut you like a pig!” She hated being afraid and the only thing strong enough to chase the emotion away was anger. “I am going to smother you in your sleep!”

A dozen voices laughed, Jor’s voice the loudest of them all. “And she finally shows her true intentions.”

Aren snorted. “You might want to curb your vitriol until you’re in a place where I can’t pick you up and toss you into the drink.” Then Aren stomped to the far side of the islet.

Taryn’s hand caught her elbow, helping her up. “It will only take us an hour to get to Midwatch.” She pressed a strap into Lara’s hand. “I had one of the villagers make this for you. If something happens, it will keep you afloat until one of us can get you back in the boat.”

Lara ran her hands along the object, which was a looped strap secured to a cask. A small act, but an enormous kindness. And one Lara didn’t deserve. “Thank you.”

The Ithicanians deposited her in one of the boats, and she cowered there, clinging with one hand to her cask and the other to the edge as they pushed out into the water. Their voices were unconcerned, despite this being madness that no sane individual would undertake under any circumstances.

The boat rose and fell on waves, and her stomach did the same, but Lara couldn’t let go long enough to dig the root Nana had given her out of her pocket. She was busy puking over the edge when the group went silent, their hands still on ropes and rudders and lines.

“There they are.” Lia’s voice.

Jor cursed under his breath. “I hope this storm turns nasty and puts them at the bottom of the sea.”

Lifting her head, Lara stared blearily out over the water. Bobbing in the distance were dozens, no, hundreds of lights. And carrying on the wind toward them was the sound of music and singing voices.

Ships.

The Amaridian fleet.

“We should go light a few of them up,” Lia snapped. “That would put a damper on their party.”

As one, all heads turned in Aren’s direction. Fingernails digging into the edge of the boat, Lara waited to see how he would respond.

“Keep on to Midwatch.” His voice was low.

“But we could sink a few of them,” Lia argued. “We have the supplies.”

“Midwatch,” Aren repeated. “They haven’t attacked, and we do not instigate.”

“But they will! You know as soon as the weather turns, they’ll raid!”

“When they do, we’ll fight them. Same as always.”

There was no emotion in Aren’s voice, but Lara could feel frustration and anger coming off him in waves.

“Or we could stop them now.” Lia was not giving up.

“They’re outside our waters and they’ve shown no aggression.” Aren shifted restlessly, his knee brushing against Lara’s back. “If we attack unprovoked, Amarid will have cause to declare war against us. This is a few ships—a raid. We can deal with that. The full force of Amarid’s navy against us is quite a different matter. Ithicana does not instigate conflict—we can’t afford to. Now get us back to Midwatch.”

Wordlessly, everyone began to move and the boats regained their speed, skipping across the waves. Yet Lara couldn’t tear her gaze from the fading light of the fleet, her father’s speech from that fateful dinner shifting and rattling through her head. For as long as memory, Ithicana has placed a stranglehold on trade, making kingdoms and breaking them like it were some dark god.

She’d believed that. Believed him without question. Yet Aren’s words . . . they weren’t those of a ruler with god-like power. Quite the opposite. They were the words of a leader of a kingdom fighting to survive.





20





Aren





Aren rubbed his eyes, which felt like they’d been filled with sand and then left to bake in the summer sun for a week. His ribs throbbed, his back ached, and his palms were marked with blisters from too many days of overuse. The worst was the tooth he was fairly certain had been knocked loose when Lara accidentally smacked his face after she’d been almost swept into the ocean. He prayed it resolved itself, or Nana would never let him hear the end of it.

“We’re as ready as we can be.” Jor drank deeply from a silver flask he took from a pocket before passing it across the firepit to his king. “You look like you need this.”