The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(72)

She waited in her rooms until the halls were silent, until there was no chance of anyone disturbing her, then crept through the dark hallways and picked the lock to Aren’s room. Vitex sat on the bed, but he only slunk outside, ignoring her as he passed.

Closing the door behind her, Lara brightened her lamp and went to Aren’s desk. She extracted the jar of invisible ink Serin had given her, then drew the stationery box of heavy official parchment next to her left hand, flipping open the lid. Taking the top page, she turned it over so the embossed shape of the bridge was facedown, then she dipped a pen into the ink and began to write in tiny script, the liquid drying invisible as she detailed everything she’d learned about Ithicana and a strategy for taking, and breaking, the Bridge Kingdom. Her hand shook as she reached the bottom, but she only set aside the paper to dry and retrieved another, repeating her message. Then another, and another, until all twenty-six pages in the box contained identical damning words.

It took all her strength not to tear them to pieces as she set everything back and retreated to her own room. Exhaustion weighing her limbs, she buried her face in the pillows of her bed, tears soaking the feathers within. It’s the only way, she told herself. It’s the only way to save Maridrina.

Even if it meant damning herself.





25





Lara





War Tides ended with a typhoon that came in fast and violent, the seas so rough that not even the Ithicanians would venture out on them. Even the bridge was likely empty, Eli told her, the storm too intense for merchant ships to brave the short crossing to Northwatch and Southwatch islands. Midwatch felt profoundly isolated as a result, cut off entirely from the world, and made worse by the fact that Lara was stuck in the house alone with the servants.

Though the fighting was over, Aren was avoiding her. He spent all his days with his soldiers and his nights on the narrow cot in the barracks, not once coming up the path to the Midwatch house.

Even so, she checked the number of pages of stationery in his room nightly, but every last page of the condemning words remained in Ithicana.

As did she.

On the morning after the storm broke, Lara decided it was time. Dressing in her Ithicanian clothes, she filled her pockets with jewels and some of her more favored narcotics, ate as much as she could stuff in her stomach, then told Eli she was going to go outside for some fresh air.

Attempting the seas during a storm would see her dead in truth, so she’d waited for clear skies before enacting her plan to fake her death, knowing that honor would drive Aren to send a formal letter informing Lara’s father of her demise. That Serin, ever watchful, would check the page and discover what she’d written. Then she could only hope and pray that, when she hadn’t shown up after a time in Vencia, her father and Serin would believe she was dead in truth. Then no assassins would come searching for her in Harendell, which was where she planned to go. She could live her life knowing that she’d given her people a chance for a better future.

At the cost of the futures of everyone living in Ithicana.

With the storms to watch over the island, Taryn and the rest had been given respite from guard duty, and there was no one to evade as she followed a trail to the cliffs overlooking the sea, cutting down the northern side until she came to the spot she’d selected long ago.

It was a high spot, the water forty feet below, but what had drawn her to it was the series of flat rocks jutting out of surf. They were suitable for her to lower her little canoe onto with ropes, and equally suitable for staging what would appear an accidental fall and a tragic death. From there, she intended to hop from island to island, using safe houses as she found them, slowly making her way to Harendell during the breaks in the storm.

It was a plan fraught with peril, yet it wasn’t fear that sat heavy in her gut as she stared down at the rocks.

“Don’t fall.”

Startled, Lara lost her balance, and Aren reached out and caught hold of her arm, hauling her away from the edge.

He made a noise of exasperation, then kept pulling on her arm. “Come with me. You have duties to attend to.”

“What duties?”

“A queen’s duties.”

She dug in her heels, leaving twin trails in the mud until he stopped and gave her a look of disgust. “That’s not a duty, Lara. Supervising the return of the Midwatch evacuees is. So ether start walking, or I’m going to drag you down to the water and toss you in a boat.”

“I’ll walk.” She was furious that her plan was being disrupted, but also furious at the small kernel of relief that she felt knowing she’d likely have to wait for another storm to pass before leaving Ithicana.

Ensconced in her usual spot in the boat, she waited until they were out of the cove before asking, “Where are we going?”

“Serrith.” Aren hunched over, his back to her.

“Just a charming day on the water,” Jor said from behind her as he put up the sail. After that, no one said anything more.

The cove at Serrith Island was dominated by two of the large twin-hulled vessels she’d seen during the evacuation, but they were already empty of civilians and supplies, their crews readying to depart. To depart to Eranahl, she mused, watching them. Though where exactly that was remained a mystery to her despite all her weeks of spying.

Her skin prickled as she followed Aren up the path through the gap in the rock where she’d killed all those soldiers. They continued on until they reached the village. It was an entirely different sight than the last time they’d been here. Instead of blood and bodies, dead-eyed children and weeping parents, it was bustling with industry. Women opened up the shuttered windows and doors to their homes to air them out, and children ran wild between them.