The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(54)
“Knowing your intentions isn’t the same as agreeing with them. The Maridrinians are rats. Let one loose, and soon all of Ithicana will be infested with them.”
“The Maridrinians are our allies,” Ahnna said from where she stood at the far end of the large replica of Ithicana, her hand resting protectively on Southwatch island.
Mara made a face. “The Maridrinians are our business partners at best, Ahnna. We pay them for peace. That’s not an alliance.”
But it could be, Aren thought before he interjected. “They gave us fifteen years of peace in exchange for nothing, Mara. They proved their commitment to the treaty, and now it’s time for us to do the same.”
“But at what cost?” Mara gestured to the middle of the map, where model Amaridian ships sat to represent the lurking enemy fleet. The Amaridians were always Ithicana’s worst raiders, primarily because they were competitors for the same business: trade between the continents. Amaridian merchant vessels took the greatest risks, making the crossing north and south even during storm season, primarily trafficking goods Ithicana wanted no part of in its markets. Maridrina had made heavy use of their services. Until now. And the Amaridian Queen clearly intended to make her displeasure over that fact known.
“Once terms are negotiated with Harendell they’ll check Amarid’s navy,” said Aren. For while Amarid might risk quarrelling with Ithicana, picking battles with their enormous neighbor was another thing entirely.
“Has Harendell sent for Ahnna yet?”
Aren sensed his twin shifting nervously behind him. “No.”
“Begun trade negotiations?”
“Not yet.” Sweat dribbled down Aren’s back, and it was a struggle not to grind his teeth. “Which isn’t surprising. They’ll be waiting to see how the peace stands in the south before they start making demands.”
“Doesn’t smell like peace.” Everyone turned to watch Commander Aster enter the room. “Smells to me like war.”
He handed Aren a folded letter sealed with amethyst-colored wax stamped with the Valcottan emblem of crossed staffs. “Ran into the mail runner in the bridge and thought to bring this to you directly.”
You mean you thought to have me read it in front of everyone, Aren thought, cracking the wax with more force than was necessary, reading the few lines and struggling to keep a grimace from his face as he set the page down on the replica of Midwatch. The Empress of Valcotta was a reasonable woman. The Valcottans were reasonable people. But both hated Maridrina in a way that bordered on religion. It was a sentiment that the Maridrinians returned.
“Well?” Mara demanded at the same time Aster blurted out, “Has Valcotta declared war on us?”
Eyes on the page, Aren read: “To His Royal Majesty, King Aren Kertell, King of Ithicana, Ruler of the Tempest Seas and Master of the Bridge.”
Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, and he knew why. Until today, the Empress had always addressed him as Dearest Aren, beloved son of my friend, God keep her soul in peace. The use of his titles was not a good sign.
He continued. “Long have Valcotta and Ithicana been friends—”
“Friends who raid when the weather’s nice,” Jor muttered from where he stood at Aren’s left.
“All friends quarrel on occasion,” Aster said. “Will you continue, Your Grace?”
Aren coughed. “Long have Valcotta and Ithicana been friends, and it grieves us terribly to learn that you have chosen to betray that friendship by siding with Maridrina against us.”
Someone in the room let out a low whistle, but Aren didn’t lift his head from the page. “It breaks our heart to know that our dear friend Ithicana now supplies our mortal enemy in their unjust attacks against our lands. And all our dead we shall lay at your feet.”
No one spoke.
“Strong is our desire to maintain our friendship with Ithicana, but this affront cannot go unanswered. Once the calm is upon us, we shall deploy our fleets to blockade our foe, Maridrina, from reaching your markets at Southwatch island until this offensive alliance is broken.”
He was prevented from reading the rest, as both Aster and Mara broke into laughter, much of the room echoing them. “Good fortune favors us after all,” Aster finally managed to get out. “Silas thought he was so clever. Thought he’d managed to extract the one thing from us that we didn’t want to give, but neither he nor Maridrina will see any of it.”
Aren hadn’t laughed then, and he certainly wasn’t laughing now. A twig snapped, and he jerked from his thoughts, turning to watch Jor step back out onto the rocks, still in the process of buckling his belt.
“Winds are strengthening,” Jor said. “Storm is going to rage harder before it gives its last gasp. Amarid will have to cool its heels for a few days before they come for blood.” The old soldier smirked at Aren. “It’s an opportune moment for you to go spend some time with that pretty wife of yours. She’s starting to take a shine to you, I can tell.”
“You came to all those realizations while you were taking a shit?”
“It’s when I do my best thinking. Now go. I’ll finish the patrol.”
Rising to his feet, Aren cast his gaze in the direction of his house, then shook his head. Lara was supposed to be the first step toward a better future for Ithicana. But with Amarid about to wage war and Valcotta doing its best to destroy the treaty, a better future no longer felt like a dream.