The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(46)
The old witch was an obnoxious, bullying harridan, and Lara had no idea how she was going to keep from murdering the bloody woman in her sleep.
“You’ll get used to her, after a while.” Taryn dunked a plate into the steaming basin. “Helps that most of us have been patched back together by her at least once.” Letting go of the dish, the woman lifted up her undershirt to reveal an oval-shaped series of scars that covered the better half of her ribs. “I fell into the water during a skirmish and a shark had a go at me. If not for Nana, I’d be dead.”
A knife or a sword or an arrow—those were wounds Lara could fathom, but that . . . “Nasty creatures.”
“Not really.” Taryn dropped her undershirt and returned to the plate. “They’ve been trained to be man-eaters, but it’s not their preference.”
Taking the dripping plate and rubbing it with a towel, Lara thought of the Amaridian sailors being dragged beneath the surface. The blooms of blood. “If you say so.”
Pushing back her long dark ponytail, Taryn smiled, revealing straight white teeth that must please Nana greatly. “They are brilliant creatures. There are a few who stay with us always, but most of them are only here during War Tides. That, more than the weather, is how Nana knows when storm season is coming or going. The fishermen notice their numbers.”
Did her father and Serin know that? Lara chewed the insides of her cheeks, considering the information. One of the risks of attacking at the beginning of the calm season was that there was no way to predict exactly when it would begin.
“They always congregate at the places where raiders attack the most, like at Midwatch.” Taryn swirled a rag inside a chipped mug before handing it over. “There are myths that say they are guardians of Ithicana’s people, which is why it is forbidden to harm them unless absolutely necessary.” She laughed. “It’s just a myth, though. They come to be fed, and they don’t discern between us or our enemies. Anyone in the water is fair game.”
Lara shivered, setting the dry cup in a clean basin with the rest.
“Quit your chattering,” Nana barked from a distance. “There’s other chores that need doing.”
Taryn rolled her eyes. “Want to escape?”
“Is escape from Nana possible?”
A wink. “I’ve had lots of practice.”
True to her word, after the clean dishes were put away, Taryn managed to have them assigned to a task that sent them down into a village Lara hadn’t even realized was there. She took in the Ithicanians bustling about between the stone houses or cajoling children who were shirking their chores. “Why isn’t it evacuated?”
“They don’t need to be. Gamire Island is safe.”
Find the civilians. Lara remembered Serin’s words, the back of her neck prickling as two children ran past her, sacks of oats in their arms. Her eyes took in the village again. There were groups of men gutting fish, but her nose picked up the scent of baking bread, of red meat on the grill, and the faint tang of lemon, though not once had she seen a fruit tree in this place. Which meant it had all come as an import via the bridge.
“Those living on the other islands . . . where do they go for War Tides?” she asked, because not asking would be more suspicious. And because she was deeply curious where this mystery location might be.
“That’s for the king to tell you.” Taryn gave her a sideways glance. “Or not, as the case may be.”
“He’s not particularly forthcoming.”
Shrugging as a way to silence that line of questioning, Taryn led Lara down a narrow path through the jungle. They walked until the breeze rose and the scent of salt filled the air, waves loud where they crashed against the cliff walls. Lara didn’t see the shipbreaker until the older soldier manning it shifted next to it. Pleased recognition gleamed in his eyes at the sight of Taryn, but his gaze hardened as it landed on Lara.
“We’re your relief for the next hour,” Taryn said. “Use it wisely and get yourself some of that meat I smelled cooking.”
After the soldier had departed, she said, “Don’t take it personally. Most everyone above a certain age lost a loved one or two to the war with Maridrina. Even after fifteen years of peace, it’s hard for them to see you as anything other than the enemy.”
I am the enemy, Lara thought. “You don’t?”
“I did, at first.” Taryn’s grey eyes stared off into the distance. “Until you saved my cousin’s life.”
“Cousin?” Lara blinked, eyeing the muscular brunette in a different light. “Aren is your cousin?”
“I see that surprises you.” Huffing out an amused breath, Taryn said, “My father was Aren’s father’s brother, which makes Nana my grandmother, too, if you’re keeping track.”
She hadn’t been, but perhaps she should. The female guard was not exactly royalty, but very nearly. And there was nothing about her that had even hinted it was so. Taryn wore the same drab gear as the rest of the guards, lived in the spare accommodations of the barracks, cooked and cleaned with the rest of her comrades. Other than her weapons, which were quality, there was nothing about her that suggested wealth or privilege. Where does all the money go? Lara wondered, remembering the incredible revenue numbers she’d seen on the pages in Aren’s desk. As a child, she’d believed Ithicana must have palaces made of gold filled with everything they took from Maridrina and the other kingdoms, but so far she’d seen only modest luxury.