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The necklace was warm from resting against her skin, the emeralds and diamonds glittering in the candlelight. She had no right to wear it, but the thought of the necklace being stolen, of it being worn by anyone else, was unbearable, so she never took it off.
She did so now.
Laying the necklace on the paper, Lara traced the jewels with the charcoal, the haze from the wine slowly receding as she worked. When the drawing was complete, she returned the necklace to her throat and held up a complete map of Ithicana, her gaze fixed on the large circle to the west of the rest.
This is madness,the logical part of her mind screamed.You can barely swim, you’re a shit sailor, and it’s the middle of storm season.But her heart, which had been a cold, smoldering thing since she’d run from Aren on Midwatch, now burned with a ferocity that would not be denied.
Tucking the map into her pocket, she belted on her weapons and stepped out into the storm.
* * *
It took Lara three weeks to get there, and she nearly died a dozen times or more during the journey. Violent storms chased her onto tiny islands, her screaming into the wind as she dragged her little boat above the storm surge. She fought off snakes who thought to hide under the cover of her boat; freak gusts of wind that tore at her singular sail; and waves that swamped her, stealing away all her supplies.
But she was called the little cockroach for a reason, and here she was.
The skies were crystal clear, which likely meant the worst sort of storm was imminent, and the sun nearly blinded her with the glare off the waves. Her boat, the sail lowered, bobbed just beyond the shadow of the enormous volcano, the only sound the waves crashing against the cliffs.
Lara stood, her knees shaking as she held on to the mast for balance. There was a glint of sunlight hitting glass from the depths of the jungle slopes, but even without it, she knew they were watching.
“Open up,” she shouted.
In answer, a loud crack split the air. Lara swore, watching as the boulder flew through the air toward her. It hit the water a few paces away, soaking her, the waves nearly flipping her boat.
Climbing back to her feet from where she’d been cowering in the bottom, she dug her fingers into the mast, fighting to master her fear of the water all around.
“Hear me out, Ahnna!” The other Ithicanians would’ve hit her on the first shot. Only the princess would bother to terrorize her first. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can throw me back into the sea.”
Nothing stirred. There was no sound other than the roar of the ocean.
Then, a rattle split the air, the distinctive sound of the gates to Eranahl opening. Picking up her paddle, Lara maneuvered her way inside.
Familiar faces filled with cold fury met her as the boat knocked against the steps. She didn’t fight as Jor jerked her out by the hair, the stone stairs biting into her shins as he dragged her up, snarling, “I’d cut your heart out here and now if not for the fact Ahnna deserves the honor.” He pulled a hood over her head, obscuring her vision.
They took her to the palace, the sounds and smells painfully familiar, and as she counted the steps and turns, Lara knew she was being taken to the council room. Someone, probably Jor, kicked the backs of her knees once they entered, and she fell, palms slapping against the ground.
“You have a lot of nerve coming back, I’ll give you that.”
The hood was ripped from her head. Pushing upright, Lara met Ahnna’s gaze, her stomach tightening at the cruel scar that now ran from the midpoint of the woman’s forehead down to her cheekbone. That she hadn’t lost her eye was a miracle. Surrounding her were some half a dozen soldiers, all who bore the marks of having barely escaped Southwatch with their lives. And behind them, hanging on the wall, was a large map of Maridrina.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat, you traitorous bitch.”
Lara forced a smile onto her face. “It’s not very creative.”
A boot caught her in the ribs, flipping her over. Pressing a hand against her side, Lara cast a dark look at Nana, whose boot it had been, before returning her attention to the woman in power. “You won’t slit my throat because my father has Aren as his prisoner.”
Ahnna’s jaw tightened. “A fact that does not help your cause.”
“We need to get him back.”
“We?” The princess’s voice was incredulous. “Your father has Aren inside his palace in Vencia, which I’m sure you know is a veritable fortress guarded by the elite of the Maridrinian army. Mybesthaven’t been able to so much as get inside. Every one of them has died trying. By all means, humor me with whyyouwill be any help at all. Will youseduceyour way in, whore?”
Lara stared her down, the silence hanging in the room stifling.
For fifteen years, she’d been trained how to infiltrate an impenetrable kingdom.
How to discover weaknesses and exploit them.
How to destroy her enemies.
