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6
Lara
Lara woke with a start,her head aching and her mouth tasting sour.
Without moving, she opened her eyes, taking in what she could of the bedroom. She spotted an open window, through which poured a humid breeze filled with the scents of flowers and lush greenery she possessed no names for, having spent her life surrounded by sand. The view was of a verdant garden, the light flat and silvery, as though it were filtered through thick clouds. The only sound was the faint pitter-patter of rain.
And that of a female humming.
She relaxed the hand that had instantly balled into a fist, primed to attack, and slowly turned her head.
An extraordinarily striking woman, perhaps five years older than Lara, with long, curling dark hair, stood in the center of the room wearing one of Lara’s dresses.One of Marylyn’s dresses,she realized with a pang.
Seeing the way she’d cocked her head, Lara knew the other woman had heard her move, but she carried on as though she had not, swishing the too-short silken skirts from side to side, continuing with her humming.
Lara said nothing, taking in the carved fruitwood furniture that was polished to a shine and vases of brilliant flowers sat on nearly every flat surface. The floors were made of tiny pieces of wood laid out in elaborate designs; the walls were plastered white and decorated with vibrant artwork. A door led to what appeared to be a bathing chamber and another, shut, which she assumed led to a hallway beyond. Satisfied that she had the lay of her surroundings, Lara asked, “Where am I?”
“Oh, you’re awake!” the woman said with feigned surprise. “You’re in the king’s home on Midwatch Island.”
“I see.” If Midwatch was, as the name suggested, in the middle of Ithicana, she’d been unconscious for longer than she’d realized. They’d drugged her, which meant they did not trust her. No surprise there. “How did I get here?”
“You arrived at Midwatch by sea.”
“How long was I asleep?”
“You weren’t precisely asleep. Just not . . . present.” The woman gave her an apologetic shrug. “Forgive us. It’s in every Ithicanian’s nature to be secretive, and we are still coming to terms with having an outsider in our midst.”
“So it would seem,” Lara murmured, noticing that the woman hadn’t answered her question, though she knewexactlywhat they’d dosed her with and why. Keeping a person unconscious for days had consequences—often of the fatal variety. Drugging her to wipe her memory was safer.
But fallible. Especially when the individual being dosed had been exposed in the past. Already, shadows of memory were creeping around the edges of Lara’s thoughts. Memories of walking. Walking in ill-fitting footwear on a hard surface. She’d been in the bridge, and at some point along its length, they’d brought her out.
Refocusing her gaze on the woman, she asked, “Why are you wearing my dress?”
“You have a whole chest of them. I was hanging them up for you, and I thought I’d try one on to see if I liked it.”
Lara cocked one eyebrow. “And do you?”
“Oh, yes.” The stranger arched her back, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “Entirely impractical, but appealing nonetheless. I could use one or two in my own closet.” Reaching up one hand, she pushed the dress’s straps off her shoulders, allowing it to slide down her body and pool on the floor at her feet.
She wore not a scrap underneath, her body all curved muscle, her breasts small and pert.
“Gorgeous gown you wore for your wedding, by the way.” She pulled a short-sleeved tunic over her head, then tugged a pair of snug trousers on beneath. There were a set of vambraces sitting on the floor, and she buckled those on as though she’d done so a thousand times. “I’d ask to borrow it for my own part in the Fifteen Year Treaty, but I’m afraid it took a bit of wear on your journey.”
Lara blinked, realization dawning on her. “You’re the Ithicanian Princess?”
“Among other things.” The woman grinned. “But I don’t want to give away all our secrets. My brother would never forgive me.”
“Your brother?”
“Your husband.” Picking up a bow and quiver, the woman—the princess—strode across the floor. “I’m Ahnna.” She bent down to kiss Lara’s cheek. “And I, for one, am so looking forward to getting to know you, sister.”
There was a knock at the door, and a servant carrying a platter of sliced fruits entered, setting the food on a table before announcing that dinner would be at the seventh hour.
“I’ll leave you alone,” Ahnna said. “Give you a chance to get settled. I’m sure waking up here was quite the shock.”
After years of Serin’s aggressive tutelage, it would take a great deal more than waking in a feather bed to shock Lara, but she allowed a faint tremor into her voice as she said, “The king . . . Is he . . . Will he . . .”
Ahnna shrugged. “Aren is not horribly predictable in his comings and goings, I’m afraid. Better that you make yourself comfortable rather than wait for him to come home. Have a bath. Eat some fruit. Have a drink. Or ten.”
