The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(99)

“They know I’m at Midwatch, Aren. And it’s not as impenetrable as you seem to think. My father won’t let my betrayal go easily.”

“I’m aware of Midwatch’s limitations, which is why we won’t be staying here.” He pulled her into his arms. “And your father will let it go if he believes the cost of revenge more than he wishes to pay.”

Revenge was worth any price to her father. “Let me go back to Maridrina. Let me kill him and end this.”

“I’m not using you to murder my enemies.”

“He’s my enemy, too. And the enemy of the Maridrinian people.”

“I don’t disagree.” Aren’s hand moved up and down her spine. “But assassinating your father will accomplish the exact opposite of what we’re working toward. Even if Serin can’t prove it was Ithicana, he’ll cast the blame at our feet, and it won’t be long until the Maridrinian people forget Silas the tyrant and start demanding vengeance for Silas the martyr. Your eldest brother is cut from the same cloth as your father, and I don’t intend to hand him an army set on Ithicanian blood.

“If they attacked,” he continued, “we could likely convince Valcotta to ally with us and crush them, but it would be your people who suffered. And at the end of it, we’d be back to the same place as we were fifteen years ago, our peoples hating each other.”

“So we do nothing, then?” Everything he said was true, but Lara couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

“We watch. We prepare. But . . .” He shrugged one shoulder. “Any action we might take at this point would cause more harm than good.”

“With Valcotta attacking Maridrinian merchants attempting to land at Southwatch, my homeland will continue to go hungry.”

“It would all resolve if your father would give up the war with Valcotta. Let farmers return to their fields and tradesmen to their trades.”

But he wouldn’t. Lara knew that for certain because her father would never concede defeat.

“As it is, storm season will help by chasing the Valcottan’s back to their harbors. Vencia’s harbor is the closest of any to Southwatch, and your people will capitalize on the short breaks in the storms. Impossible as it is to believe, the storm season is better for your countrymen than the calm. Food will arrive on Maridrina’s shores.”

Aren wouldn’t lie to her—Lara believed that. She trusted him. Even if it killed her to do nothing.

He was quiet for a long time, then he said, “But there are two sides to this, Lara. Very few Ithicanians have ever left our shores. Very few of them have ever met a Maridrinian. The result is that they believe your father is the sum of your people. I need you to help me change that. I need you to make them see that Maridrinians are not our enemies. To make them want more than just an alliance of paper and words between kings, but an alliance between our people. Because that’s the only way we’ll ever find peace.”

“I don’t see how that can happen while he lives.”

“He won’t live forever.”

Lara exhaled a long breath. “But my brother, as you say, is just like him. He’ll take advantage of the utopia you envision.”

“I don’t envision a utopia, Lara. Just something better.” He kissed her shoulder, his lips warm. “It’s past time we stopped allowing our enemies to dictate our lives and start living them for those we love. And for ourselves.”

“A dream.”

“Then make it reality.” Reaching into his trouser pockets, he extracted a small silken pouch. “I have something for you.”

Lara’s head turned, her eyes widening as he extracted the delicate links of gold, emeralds and black diamonds flashing in the light. “You mentioned a fondness for green.”

Carefully, he brushed her hair to one side and fastened the necklace around her neck. “It was my mother’s. My father had it made for her years ago, and she almost never took it off. The servants found it in their rooms after—” He broke off, shaking his head to clear the emotion. “She always said it was meant to be worn.”

Lara trailed one finger down the gold and jewels, then pulled it away, her hand balling into a fist. “I can’t take this. Ahnna should have it.”

“Ahnna hates jewelry. And besides, you’re Queen of Ithicana. You’re the one who should wear it.”

Taking her hands in his, Aren turned her toward the large mirror on the wall and pressed the fingers of her hand against the large black diamond resting at the center of her collarbone, her pulse throbbing beneath. “Northwatch.” Then he moved down the necklace, naming the larger islands as he went.

“Serrith.” He paused there, kissing her shoulder, grazing his teeth against her neck, feeling her body hitch, then press against him, her head falling back against his shoulder. “Midwatch.” Their fingers trailed over the slope of her right breast, pausing on a large emerald. He made a humming noise of consideration, then continued down the jeweled map, stopping at Southwatch, the emerald nestled in her cleavage.

“It’s yours,” he murmured into her ear. “Ithicana. Everything that I have is yours. To protect. To make better.”

“I will,” she whispered. “I promise.” Turning, Lara rested her forehead against his chest, focusing on the feel of his hands. On the sound of his heart.