The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(112)

Branches whipping her face, roots tripping her feet, the ground slick with mud.

Hissed voices. “This way, this way.”

The shouts of pursuit.

“Down, down. Did you gag her?”

Her face was pressed against the ground, wet earth seeping through the pillowcase. A rock dug into her ribs. Another pressed sharply against her knee. All of it felt distant, as though it were happening to her in a dream. Or to someone else.

They carried on through the night, the heavy rain helping them avoid what seemed like countless Maridrinian soldiers hunting them across Midwatch, though logically she knew it couldn’t be so many. By now her father’s elite would’ve discovered Marylyn’s body—and the absence of hers and Aren’s—and there was no doubt that finding them would be nearly the same priority as taking the bridge itself.

Only as dawn came, filtered grey through clouds and the sodden fabric covering her face, did they take cover. There were familiar voices in the group. Jor and Lia. Others from the honor guard. Her ears strained for Aren’s, but not once did she pick it out amongst the whispers.

Still, she was certain he was there. Sensed his presence. Felt the guilt and anger and defeat radiating from him in waves as he came to terms with the fall of his kingdom. Knew, instinctively, when he sent everyone away so that he was alone with her.

Lara waited for a long time for him to speak, braced herself for the blame and accusations. Aren remained silent.

When she could take it no more, Lara pushed upright, lifting her bound wrists to tug the pillowcase from her head, blinking in the dim light.

Aren sat on a rock a few paces away, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging low. He was still shirtless, and the rain ran in torrents down his muscled back, washing away smears of blood and mud. A bow and quiver rested under the shelter of an overhang. A machete was belted at his waist. In his hand he held her knife—the one she’d thrown at the snake—and he was turning it over and over as though it were some artifact he’d never seen before.

“Did anyone get out?” Her voice rasped like sandpaper over rough wood. “To warn Southwatch?”

“No.” His hands stilled, the blade’s keen edge glittering with rain. “Taryn tried. The Maridrinians used our own shipbreakers with shocking proficiency. She’s dead.”

Sharp pain dug into Lara’s stomach, her mouth tasting sour. Taryn was dead. The woman who hadn’t even wanted to be a soldier was dead, and it was because of her. “I’m so sorry.”

He lifted his head, and Lara recoiled from the fury in his eyes. “Why? You got everything you wanted.”

“I didn’t want this.” Except she had, at one point. Had wanted to shatter Ithicana. That desire had gotten them to this point, no matter how much she regretted it.

“Enough of your lies.” He was on his feet in one smooth motion, stalking toward her, knife in hand. “I may not have a full report yet, but I know the bridge has fallen to your father using a plan to infiltrate our defenses that was better than I could’ve come up with myself. Your plan.” As he raised his voice, she couldn’t help but flinch, knowing they were still being hunted.

“I thought I’d destroyed all the evidence. I don’t know how it got away from me—”

“Shut up!” He lifted the blade. “My people are dead and dying because of you.” The knife slipped from his fingers. “Because of me.”

Wrenching the damning piece of paper out of his pocket, he held it up to her face. Not the side she’d written on, but the one he’d written, the script flowing and neat. Words persuading her father to reconsider his war with Valcotta and to put his people before his pride. Her chest hollowed as she read the end.

Let it be said, however, that should you seek to retaliate against your spy, Ithicana will take it as an act of aggression against its queen, and the alliance between our kingdoms will be irrevocably severed.

Aren dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping the sides of her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. Tears glinted in his eyes. “I loved you. I trusted you. With myself. With my kingdom.”

Loved. Past tense. Because she’d never deserved his love, and now she’d lost it for good.

“And you were only using me. Only pretending. It was all an act. A ploy.”

“No!” She wrenched the word from her lips. “At first, yes. But after . . . Aren, I love you. Please believe that, if nothing else.”

“I used to wonder why you never said it. Now I know.” His grip on her face tightened, then he jerked his hands away. “You say it now only because you’re trying to save your own skin.”

“That’s not true!”

Explanations fought each other to make it out of her mouth first. Ways to make him understand. Ways to make him believe her. They all died on her lips as he fished the knife out of the mud.

“I should kill you.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest like a caged bird.

“But despite everything, everything, you’ve done, I don’t have the balls to stick this blade in your black Maridrinian heart.”

The knife sliced between her wrists, cutting the cord in one clean jerk. He pressed the hilt into the palm of her hand.

“Go. Run. I’ve no doubt that you’ll make it off this island.” His jaw tightened. “It’s in your nature to survive.”