The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(63)
“The healers could use my assistance,” Lara interrupted. “So perhaps get to the point.”
“I am getting to the point,” he grumbled, hoping a convoluted explanation would convince her to leave rather than provoke questions. “Kestark moved their reserves to reinforce the locations most likely to come under attack, while at the same time, the Amaridians attacked here at Aela Island. Kestark couldn’t risk pulling back their reserve, nor could they redeploy the teams making up the net of defense through here”—he drew an oval—“so they called for assistance from Midwatch. But now Midwatch is down the majority of its reserves, so if there are any attacks here”—he drew another oval—“we won’t be able to come to their aid in a timely fashion.”
Lara stared at the drawing, blinking only once in apparent confusion. Then she pressed her fingers to her temples. “For the love of God, Aren, none of this justifies abandoning these soldiers.” She started to pull away, but he tugged her back.
“Listen. The four Amaridian ships that were expected to attack instead withdrew —probably because they saw it wouldn’t be an easy fight—and they’ve moved east and out of sight of our scouts. So now there will be a wave of signals, with teams shifting one position north and west in order to allow the Kestark teams closest to us to move to reinforce. As I said, they’ll be here within the hour.”
“Fine.” Moving out of reach, she started up the sand to where the wounded were laid out in rows.
“Insufferable woman,” he muttered, then a whistle caught his attention. Aren turned to see Jor gesturing at a pair of Kestark boats flying across the water on a violent gust of wind that smelled like rain. He turned back to point them out to Lara, but she was already out of earshot.
Growling out a few choice curses, he strode down to the water. “Everyone go. I want you back at Midwatch before this squall hits.”
His soldiers immediately pushed off from the beach, but instead of watching them, Aren found his eyes drawn to where Lara walked among the injured, occasionally bending down to speak with one of them. The growing winds caught at the loose strands of her hair, the fading sunlight making it glow like tendrils of honey. His soldiers moved aside for her, inclined their heads to her. Respected her.
The image juxtaposed that of her walking up the road at Southwatch on her father’s arm, silk clad and eyes wide: the portrait of a queen he’d worried Ithicana would never accept. Turned out, he’d been wrong.
“And when will we be departing, Your Grace?” Jor asked, coming up to stand next to him. “When your little wife says it’s time to go?”
“We’ll go when the Queen of Ithicana says it’s time to go.”
The older man chuckled, then clapped him on the shoulder.
The first of the Kestark boats reached shore, and Aren recognized Commander Aster even as the man’s eyes lighted upon him, apprehension filling them. “Your Grace. I didn’t realize you’d come yourself.”
“The benefit of being at the Midwatch garrison. Like I was supposed to be.”
Aster’s face lost more of its color, and rightfully so. That he was arriving now meant he hadn’t been at Kestark garrison, or even with the bulk of his forces warding off the anticipated attack. And Aren was quite certain he knew exactly where the other man had been.
“As you can see, Commander, things almost didn’t go Ithicana’s way today. Aela is a weak point, its outpost was undermanned, and the shipbreaker hadn’t been recalibrated after storm season, leaving those who were here sitting ducks for an entire ship full of Amaridians.”
“We’re behind on inspections, Your Grace,” Aster blurted out. “The season came early . . .”
“Which doesn’t explain why you over-deployed to the southeast and left your northern end exposed. Perhaps you’ll enlighten me?”
“There were four naval ships. We needed to be ready to defend—”
“To defend a series of islands that wouldn’t be assailable if the Amaridians attacked with twenty ships!” Aren snarled. “Which if you’d been paying attention, you would’ve known. Which suggests to me that you were distracted when you gave the order.”
“I was not distracted, Your Grace. I’ve been commanding Kestark since you were a child.”
“And yet . . .” Aren gestured at the rows and rows of dead faces staring sightlessly at the sky. Then he leaned forward. “Evacuations are complete, so that means your lovely wife and children are safely ensconced in Eranahl, leaving you with all the time in the world to screw your mistress in the house I know you had built for her just west of here.”
Aster’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. He couldn’t, not with his own personal guard listening from where they stood next to their boats. Then his eyes drifted past Aren’s shoulder. “What is she doing here?”
Turning, Aren saw that Lara stood behind him, a surviving officer—a girl who was only eighteen—at her elbow. He started to defend Lara’s presence, but the girl beat him to it.
“Respectfully, Commander, a hell of a lot more of us would be dead if our queen hadn’t come.”
Lara said nothing, but her blue eyes were cold and eviscerating as she stared Aster down. Then her gaze shifted to Aren and she nodded once.