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He laughed, the sound rich and full, and Lara found herself smiling. They rounded a bend and came into a clearing dominated by a large building, a group of Ithicanian soldiers loitering in the sunlight.
“Midwatch barracks,” Aren said by way of explanation. “Those twelve are my—our—honor guard.”
The stone structure was large enough to house hundreds of men. “How many soldiers are here?”
“Enough.” He strode through the clearing toward those waiting for them.
“Majesties,” one of them said, bowing deeply, although there was amusement in his tone, as though such honorifics were rarely used. Tall and corded with muscle, he was old enough to be Aren’s father, his close-cropped brown hair laced with grey. Lara stared into his dark brown eyes, something about his voice familiar, and after a heartbeat, she recognized it as that of the man who’d conducted the Ithicanian portion of her wedding.
“This is Jor,” Aren said. “He’s the captain of the guard.”
“So nice to see you again,” she replied. “Do all Ithicanian soldiers have side jobs, or are you an exception?”
The soldier blinked once, then a smile grew on his face, and he gave her an approving nod. “Good ear, princess.”
“Poor memory, soldier. I’m a princess no longer—you yourself ensured that.” She walked past them all, heading down the narrow path to the sea.
The older man laughed. “I hope you sleep with one eye open, Aren.”
“And a knife under your pillow,” Lia added, and the whole group laughed.
Aren laughed along with them, and Lara wondered if they knew that he’d yet to consummate their marriage. That by the laws of both kingdoms, they could walk their separate ways. Casting a backward glance over her shoulder, she met Aren’s gaze unblinking and he swiftly looked away, giving a root crossing the trail a violent kick.
It didn’t take long to reach the tiny cove where they hid the boats, which were a variety of sizes. They resembled canoes, except they had an outboard frame linking them to either one or two additional hulls, which she supposed balanced them in the waves. Some of them were rigged with masts and sails, including the pair into which the group loaded their weapons and gear. A hint of fear grew in Lara’s chest. The boats weretinycompared to the ship she had taken for the crossing to Southwatch, and the seas beyond the cliff walls protecting the cove suddenly seemed rougher than they had moments ago, the whitecaps rising high and fierce, certain to swamp the flimsy vessels.
A dozen excuses filled her mind as to why she shouldn’t, couldn’t, leave the shore. But this was why she was in Ithicana—to find a way past their defenses—and Aren was about to reveal the information without any concession on her part. She’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity.
Aren stepped into the boat, then held out a hand for her, easily keeping his balance as the vessel rose and fell beneath him. Lara held her ground, biting the insides of her cheeks as she felt his scrutiny. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it. “I can’t swim, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She hated admitting the weakness, and from the faint smile on his face, he knew it.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who couldn’t swim.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s hardly a necessary skill in the middle of the Red Desert.”
All the soldiers studiously busied themselves with various tasks, every one of them clearly listening.
“Well.” Aren turned to squint at the sea. “You’ve seen what prowls these waters. Drowning might be the easier way to go.”
“How comforting.” She ignored his hand and stepped into the boat before she could lose her nerve. It swayed beneath the added weight, and Lara dropped to her knees, clinging to the edge.
Laughing softly, Aren knelt next to her, holding up a black piece of fabric. “Sorry for this, but some secrets must be kept.” Not waiting for assent, he blindfolded her.
Shit.She should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy. But sight wasn’t the only way to discover information, so she kept her mouth shut.
“Let’s go,” he ordered, and the boat surged away from the beach.
For a moment, Lara thought it wouldn’t be that bad, and then they must have slipped out of the cove, because the boat began to buck and plunge like a wild horse. Lara’s heart thundered in her chest, and she clung to the bottom, not caring what Aren or the rest of the Ithicanians thought of her as water splashed her clothes, soaking them through. If they tipped over, or if one of them threw her in, none of her training would help her. She’d be dead.
And then eaten.
On the heels of her terror came a wave of nausea, her mouth filling with sour salvia no matter how many times she swallowed.You can do this. Get control of yourself.She clenched her teeth, fighting against the rising contents of her stomach.Do not throw up,she ordered herself.You will not throw up.
“She’s going to puke,” Jor said.
As if on cue, Lara’s breakfast rose fast and violent, and she leaned blindly toward the edge right as the boat tipped sharply in the same direction. Her grip on the boat slipped even as she vomited, and she fell face first into the water. The cold sea closed over her head, and she flailed, imagining the water filling her lungs, fins circling around her. Teeth rising up to jerk her under.
She’d been here before. Drowned. Smothered. Strangled.
An old terror with a new face.
