The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(2)
No, the anticipation was for what would come next. The choice had been made as to who would be offered to the crown prince—king, now—of the Kingdom of Ithicana. What remained unknown was what would become of the rest of them. They were of royal blood, and that made them worth something.
All the sisters, Marylyn included, had gathered close on a pile of pillows the last two nights, each of them speculating as to their fates. To whom of the King’s viziers might they be wed. To which other realms might they be offered as brides. Neither the man nor the kingdom mattered. What every girl cared about was that it would be freedom from this place.
But all those long nights, Lara had rested on the outskirts, offering nothing, using the time to watch her sisters. To love them. To remember how she had fought each of them as often as she had hugged them tight. Their smiles. Their eyes. The way, even past childhood, they nestled together like a pile of puppies newly away from their mother.
Because Lara knew what the others did not: that their father intended for only one sister to leave the compound. And that would be the future Queen of Ithicana.
A salad garnished with cheese and vibrant fruit was placed before her, and Lara ate mechanically. You will live, you will live, you will live, she chanted to herself.
“For as long as memory, Ithicana has placed a stranglehold on trade, making kingdoms and breaking them like it were some dark god.” Her father addressed them, his eyes flaring bright. “My father, and his father, and his father before him all sought to break the Bridge Kingdom. With assassins, with war, with blockades, with every tool at their disposal. But not one of them thought to use a woman.”
He smiled slyly. “Maridrinian women are soft. They are weak. They are good for nothing more than keeping house and raising children. Except for you twelve.”
Lara didn’t blink. None of her sisters did, and she wondered for a breath whether he realized that every one of them was considering stabbing him in the heart over the insult of his words. He should know well that every one of them was capable of doing it.
Her father continued, “Fifteen years ago, the King of Ithicana demanded a bride for his son and heir as tribute. As payment.” His lip curled up in a sneer. “The bastard is a year dead, but his son has called in his due. And Maridrina is ready.” His eyes went to Marylyn, then to the servants moving to clear the salad plates.
In the shadows of the growing night, Lara sensed movement. Felt the presence of the mass of soldiers her father had brought with him. The servants reappeared with steaming bowls of soup, the scent of cinnamon and leeks drifting ahead of them.
“Ithicana’s greed, its hubris, its contempt for you, will be its downfall.”
Lara allowed her eyes to leave her father’s face, taking in each one of her sisters. With all their training, all their knowledge of his plans, he never intended for any of them, save his chosen one, to live an hour past this dinner.
The soups were placed before them, and every one of her sisters waited for their father’s taster to take the first mouthful and nod. Then they picked up their spoons and dutifully began to eat.
Lara did the same.
Their father believed that brilliance and beauty were the most important attributes in the daughter he’d select. That she be the girl who’d shown the most acumen for combat and strategy. The girl who’d shown the most talent in the arts of the bedroom. He’d thought he’d known which traits mattered most—but he’d forgotten one.
Sarhina stiffened next to her.
I’m sorry, Lara silently whispered to her sisters.
Then Sarhina’s body began to spasm.
I pray that you’ll all find the freedom you deserve.
The soupspoon in Sarhina’s hand went flying across the table, but none of the other girls noticed. None of them cared. Because all of them were choking, foam rising to their lips as they twitched and gasped, one by one falling forward or backward or to the side. Then all of them were resting motionless.
Lara set her spoon next to her empty bowl, looking once to Marylyn, who was facedown in her dish. Rising, she rounded the table, lifting her sister’s head from the bowl and carefully cleaning away the soup before resting Marylyn’s cheek against the table. When Lara looked up again, her father was pale and on his feet, sword half drawn. The soldiers who’d been lurking in the wings rushed forward, corralling the panicked servants into place. But everyone, everyone, was staring at her.
“You were mistaken in your choice, Father.” Lara stood tall as she addressed her king. She stared him down, allowing the dark, grasping, and selfish part of her soul to climb to the surface and stare out at him. “I will be the next Queen of Ithicana. And I will bring the Bridge Kingdom to its knees.”
2
Lara
Lara had known what would come next, but it seemed to happen so very quickly. And yet she was certain every detail would be burned into her mind until the day she died. Her father slammed his sword back into its sheath, then reached down to press his fingers against the throat of the nearest girl, holding them there for several moments while Lara watched impassively. Then he nodded once at the soldiers surrounding them.
The men who’d been intended to dispatch Lara and her sisters turned their swords instead on the servants, whose tongueless mouths uttered wordless screams as they tried to flee the massacre. The musicians were cut down, as were the cooks in the distant kitchens and the maids turning down sheets on beds that would never be slept in again. Soon, all who remained were the king’s loyal cadre of soldiers, their hands coated with the blood of their victims.