The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(62)

And the enemy kept coming.

Pushing them farther up the sand.

Step by step, the Ithicanians retreated, and Lara howled in fury, because all those she’d pulled onto the beach were now in danger of being trampled once more. Her body screamed with pain and exhaustion, her sides cramping as her lungs struggled to draw in enough air to fuel her thundering heart.

Then a familiar crack echoed across the island, along with the whistle of something large flying through the air.

Splintering wood and screams filtered up from the deeper water, and Lara lifted her head to see a large hole in the side of the ship. Someone had repaired the shipbreaker.

Another crack split the air, and this time the projectile hit one of the masts. It shattered, falling sideways, the ropes and sails falling to the deck.

Another crack, this time a hole opening in the hull, water pouring in with every wave.

The weapon didn’t stop. Boulder after boulder was thrown at the ship, then Taryn turned on the longboats, hitting them with deadly accuracy.

The Amaridians began to panic, lines breaking as they fought to save their own skins. But there was no retreat, and the Ithicanians would show them no mercy.

“For Ithicana!” someone roared, and the chant raced down the beach until it drowned out all other noise as the soldiers rallied around their king, pressing forward.

So there was no one to hear when Lara whispered, “For Maridrina,” and dove back into the chaos.





23





Aren





Aren found Lara crouched next to a tide pool washing blood from her hands and arms. Her clothing was soaked in gore, and as she lifted her head to regard him, he noted the red streaks on her cheeks from where she’d pushed aside the strands of hair that had tugged loose from her thick braid.

His soldiers were talking about her; and not, for once, about how she was a useless Maridrinian, good for nothing but bedding. Today had changed that. Time and again, she’d sprinted onto the beach to pull an injured Ithicanian back behind their lines, showing no regard for her own life as the Amaridians had fought their way forward, the battle pitched and desperate.

And once the battle was won, she’d treated the wounded with speed and efficiency, packing wounds and tying tourniquets, buying them time until the healers could reach them. Saving lives, one soldier at a time, her face tight with determination.

Today she’d won Ithicana’s respect.

And his own.

“Are you all right?” He crouched down to submerge his own hands in the water. He’d done it earlier, but his skin still felt sticky and stained.

“Tired.” She sat back on her haunches, eyes going to the corpses floating amidst the debris of the shattered ship, the water still crimson. “How many died?”

“Forty-three. Another ten aren’t likely to make it through the night.”

Lara squeezed her eyes shut, then snapped them open. “So many.”

“Would have been more if you hadn’t convinced me to bring you. Or if you hadn’t ignored my orders.” He didn’t add that he’d spent a good portion of the battle afraid that the decision would see her dead on the sand, an Amaridian sword in her back.

“It feels like I accomplished nothing in the scheme of things,” she murmured.

“The men and women whose lives you saved would beg to differ, I suspect.”

“Lives I saved.” She shook her head. “I should go back to help.”

Aren caught her wrist as she rose, his fingers wrapping around the slender bones, which seemed too delicate to have accomplished what she had. “We need to go.”

“Go?” Spots of anger rose on her cheeks. “We can’t leave them like this.”

He wanted to abandon this beach and his injured people no more than she did, but the defense of his kingdom was a finely oiled machine with a thousand different pieces. Pulling one out of place, even for a matter of hours, put the whole works at risk, and right now, his piece was very much out of place. “I moved significant numbers from the defense of Midwatch and its surrounding islands. We need to return.”

“No.” She pulled out of his grip. “Fewer than a dozen of the soldiers here are unscathed. We can’t leave them undefended. What if the Amaridians attack again?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aren could see his guard standing by the boats, Jor giving him a pointed glare. Several of the other Midwatch teams were at the ready on the beach, waiting for his order to depart. “There are no Amaridian ships on the horizon, and reinforcements are already on the way. They’ll be here within the hour.”

“I’m not leaving until they arrive.”

She crossed her arms, and it occurred to him that he might have to drag the woman every soldier on this beach was lauding as a hero into a boat if he ever wanted to depart. Which wasn’t exactly the visual he wished to present to them.

Huffing out a breath, Aren pulled a knife from his belt and knelt in the sand, drawing a snaking line representing the bridge. “The defense of the bridge is broken into sections led by Watch Commanders, each with a subset of the Ithicanian military under his or her control. The Midwatch garrison is here”—he made a hole in the sand—“and the Kestark garrison is here. Four Amaridian ships were making motions to attack here.” He made four holes south of Kestark Island.