The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(104)

Gemstones. The word plucked at Lara’s mind, important somehow, though she couldn’t think of why. “What sort of gemstones?”

Every pair of eyes in the room shifted to her before moving to Aren. His jaw tightened with obvious irritation. “Answer the question.”

“Rubies,” Aster said. “But Amarid has no mines, so it’s likely nothing more than a rumor.”

Lara’s fingers went to the knife belted at her waist, trailing over the crimson stones embedded in the hilt.

“I’m not interested in rumors,” Aren said. “I’m interested in facts. Find out how Amarid’s paying for the ships. If they’re in bed with someone, I want to know who it is. And what their intentions are.” He waved a hand at Mara to continue, but Lara’s mind stayed with the ships. With the idea that there might be someone outside of Amarid interested in financing further attacks against Ithicana.

“. . . a marked increase in Amarid’s import of certain Maridrinian goods.” Mara’s words stole back Lara’s attention.

“What manner of goods?”

Mara’s expression was unamused. “Cheap wine, mostly.”

“Why, given that Amarid makes the best wines and is known the world over for their distilleries, would they import Maridrinian wine?”

“Clearly a few Amaridians have a taste for cloudy swill,” Mara snapped. “Now moving on.”

“Commander, watch yourself.” Aren’s voice was cold.

The older woman only threw up her hands in exasperation. “I assume the Maridrinians are selling what they can in order to buy what they need—I only noted them as they were unusual and it might be a market we can exploit in the future.”

“It wasn’t a large shipment,” Ahnna interrupted. “Our tolls would have eaten up half the profit, it was such cheap stuff. I snaked a crate of it and included it with the supplies for Midwatch.”

Lara’s pulse was roaring in her ears now, the memory of the bottle of Maridrinian wine in the safe house supplies dancing in front of her eyes, along with the smuggler’s ruby they’d found in it. A ruby that was sitting in her jewelry box at Midwatch. How better to smuggle gemstones than in cheap wine that the Ithicanians were unlikely to touch, that they wouldn’t have even noticed, if Ahnna hadn’t played a prank? If Aren had made the connection, Lara couldn’t tell—he was guarding his reactions too closely.

“May I continue?” Mara demanded, and at Aren’s nod, she gave a swift rundown of Northwatch’s defenses, then passed the meeting to the next commander.

The islands both north and south of Midwatch suffered most of the attacks during the past War Tides, and much of the conversation turned to speculation of whether this year would be the same. Lara listened with one ear, but her mind would not let go of the notion that someone in Maridrina was financing the Amaridian navy.

The conversation moved progressively south, the meeting stopping only when someone needed to relieve themselves and resuming immediately upon the individual’s return. There was no time. Lara could feel it: the galloping thrum of adrenaline that usually preceded a storm, but this time it whispered war. Aren took his turn for Midwatch, barely referring to the notes Lara passed him.

“Midwatch Island itself was only attacked once. On the shoulder season, and obviously by an inexperienced captain, as they sailed directly into the path of our shipbreakers. It was as though they were asking to be sunk. Even still, we had little respite, the other islands under our watch were attacked repeatedly.”

They turned to the particulars, but Lara scarcely heard the conversation, her skin ice-cold. Key to her father’s plan had been Lara witnessing Ithicana’s military tactics from the inside, her training allowing her to understand those tactics and how they could be exploited. All of War Tides, she’d believed every opportunity she had to watch the Ithicanians in action had been luck, but what if it hadn’t been? What if it had been by design? What if it had been ordered by the individual financing the rebuilding of those ships?

What if that individual was her father?

“The Amaridian attack on Serrith was the only occasion where we took significant losses . . .”

Serrith. Unbidden, the memory of the attack surfaced in her mind. Of the way the Amaridian sailors had recognized her, but instead of attacking, had backed off until it became clear it was her life or theirs. Which made no sense at all, given that Lara and the treaty she represented were the cause of all of Amarid’s woe.

“You’re up, Emra,” Aren said. “How fares Kestark?”

The paper in the young woman’s hands trembled as she spoke, but her voice was clear and steady as she summarized the state of her watch, which had taken heavy losses during War Tides. Reaching the end of her notes, she paused before saying, “An Amaridian merchant vessel passed through Kestark two days past.”

“Keep to the important details, girl,” Aster said, and Lara curbed the urge to throw the glass in her hand at his head. “We don’t have time to discuss every merchant vessel blown into our waters during a storm season crossing.”

Emra’s eyes flashed with irritation, but she shut her lips in habitual deference to the older man.

Anything to do with Amarid was important now, and Lara opened her mouth to ask Emra to elaborate, but Aren beat her to it. “Why do you mention it?”