The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(24)

They climbed upward, mostly on a narrow trail, during which they said not a word to one another. There was nothing to be seen but endless jungle, and Lara was beginning to believe Aren was toying with her when he walked into a clearing containing a stone tower.

Tilting her face to the sky, she let the endless rain wash the sweat from her face, watching the clouds twist and swirl on winds that didn’t breach the tree canopy.

Aren gestured at the tower. “The break in the cloud cover will be brief at this time of year.”

The tower smelled of earth and mildew, the stone stairs circling upward worn in the center from countless footsteps. They reached the top—a small empty space open on all sides, revealing misty jungle in every direction. The lookout was at the apex of a small mountain, she realized, and she could only barely make out the grey sea below. There was no beach. No pier. And most importantly, no damned bridge.

“Where is it?”

“Patience.” Aren leaned his elbows on the stone wall framing the space.

More curious than annoyed, Lara went to stand next to him, taking in the trees and clouds and sea, but her attention was drawn to him. He smelled of damp leather and steel, of earth and leafy things, but beneath that, her nose picked up the smell of soap and something distinctly, and not unpleasantly, male. Then a blast of wind roared through the tower, chasing away all scents but that of sky and rain.

The clouds parted with incredible speed, the sun burning down upon them with an intensity she hadn’t felt since she’d left the desert, turning the swaths of faded green into an emerald so vibrant, it almost hurt her eyes. The mist raced away on the wind, leaving behind sapphire skies. Gone was the mysterious island, and what was left in its place was all brilliant color and light. But no matter how she searched, she could not see anything remotely resembling a bridge.

An amused laugh filled her ears just as fingertips caught her chin, gently lifting her face. “Look further,” Aren said, and Lara’s eyes went to the now-turquoise seas.

What she saw took her breath away.





10





Lara





All the descriptions given to her during her training paled in comparison to reality. It was not a bridge. It was The Bridge, for there was nothing that compared with it in the world.

Like a great grey serpent, the bridge meandered as far as the eye could see, joining the continents. It rested on top of naturally formed tower karsts that seemed to have been placed by the hand of God for just such a purpose, defying the Tempest Seas that crashed against their feet. Occasionally, its grey length drifted over the larger islands, resting on thick stone columns built by ancient hands. The bridge was a feat of architecture that defied reason. That defied logic. That should, by all rights, not even exist.

Which was exactly why everyone wanted it.

Tearing her eyes from the bridge, Lara glanced up at Aren whose own gaze was fixed on the stone structure. Though he must have seen it every day of his life, he still exuded a sense of wonder, as though he, too, could hardly fathom its existence.

Before she could look away, he turned his head, and their eyes met. In the sunlight, she saw that his eyes were not black, but hazel, the brown flecked with emerald green that mirrored his kingdom. “Does seeing it bolster your sense of self-worth?”

Her skin burned hot, and she turned away, needing to move. “I am not a commodity.”

He huffed out a breath. “That’s not what a meant. The bridge, it’s . . . For Ithicana, it’s everything. And Ithicana is everything to me.”

Just as Maridrina was everything to her.

“It’s . . . impressive.” A weak word for the ancient structure.

“Lara.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for her, then withdraw his hand as though he thought better of touching her. “I know that you didn’t choose to be here.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, his cheeks clenched as though he were struggling for words, and her heart began to pound anticipating what he would say. “I want you to know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. That this . . . this is whatever you want it to be. Or don’t want it to be.”

“What is it to you?”

“The treaty means peace between Ithicana and Maridrina. It means lives saved. Maybe one day it will mean the end to violence on our shores.”

“I didn’t think we were talking about the treaty.” She was intent on understanding what motivated this man, which included his desires.

Aren hesitated. “I hope our marriage will be the first step toward a future where my people’s lives aren’t tied to this ancient piece of stone.”

The statement was so contradictory to what he’d said about the bridge being everything that Lara opened her mouth to ask for him to explain, but she was cut off by the sound of a horn blaring in the distance. It belted out a song, then repeated it twice. Aren swore after the first pass, his hand reaching for the large spyglass mounted at the center of the watchtower. He panned the water, unleashing a tirade of curses when he caught sight of whatever it was he was searching for.

“What is it?”

“Raiders.” He flung himself at the stairs, then caught himself on the doorframe, halting his progress. “Stay here, Lara. Just . . . don’t move. I’ll send someone for you.”