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The fleet remained off the coast of Ithicana, though there had been no attacks since Serrith. Eli, the source of much of Lara’s information, had told her that they were unlikely to make a move until the weather cleared. The waters were shallow and full of rocks and shoals, as well as the man-made defenses Ithicana was known for, and unpredictable winds and poor visibility made attacking during foul weather inadvisable.
But the storm wouldn’t last forever, and Midwatch seethed with anticipation of the battles to come. Which served Lara’s purposes well.
Already her head was full with what she’d learned during her venture off Midwatch with Aren, and the past three nights had yielded even more. From her perch, she’d learned much about how the bridge was patrolled, inside and out, where sentries were stationed on the surrounding islands, and the signals they used to communicate with Midwatch, which seemed to function as a central control point for this area of Ithicana. She’d learned about the explosives they used to destroy enemy ships, shot by arrow or launched by shipbreaker and, if the story she’d overheard was true, occasionally planted by hand under the cover of night.
She’d watched them train, working in the rain with only faint lantern light to avoid the attention of anyone on the water. Hand to hand, with blades, and with bow, the worst of them were at least proficient. The best of them . . . well, she wouldn’t want to go up against the best of them unless she had to. Their weapons were all of fine make, every one of them armed to the teeth, the garrison stockpiled with enough to supply them with spares.
Midwatch was only one piece of the puzzle, but if it was the standard that Ithicana held itself to, then what Serin and the rest of her masters had told Lara and her sisters about Ithicana being impenetrable had been alarmingly accurate.
But as to the rest of what she and her sisters had been told about Ithicana . . . that, Lara was questioning. Questioning what was truth and what was lies, because it was impossible that all parties had been honest with her. Not with everyone claiming to be the victim and no one the aggressor.
Someone was deceiving her.
Or everyone was. Pushing back a strand of wet hair from her face, Lara wished, not for the first time, that she’d been allowed to spend time away from the compound. Everything she knew had come from books and from her masters. Outside of combat, she was like a scholar who studies the world but never leaves the library. It was a limitation, and one she’d pointed out to Serin several times, much to his endless irritation.
“It’s not worth the risk,” he had snapped. “All it would take is one slip on your part, and everything that we’ve worked for, fought for, would be undone. Is your desire for a sojourn worth losing the only chance Maridrina has at escaping Ithicana’s yoke?” He’d never waited for a response, only slapped her cheek and said, “Remember your purpose.”
Master Erik had given her a different answer when she’d pressed. “Your father is a man who needscontrol, little cockroach,” he said, passing a whetstone up and down a blade. “Here, he can control every variable, but outside”—he used the weapon to gesture to the desert—“true control is beyond even a king’s power. Your life is as it is out of necessity, my girl. But it won’t be this way forever.”
His words had infuriated her at the time—a vague non-answer, in her childish opinion—but now . . . Now she wondered if there was more depth to his response than she’d once realized.
Now she wondered if the variable her father had most wanted to control was her.
The main door to the barracks opened and shut beneath her, and Lara’s attention perked as a tall figure exited the building. He had his hood pulled up against the rain, clothing identical to that of every other soldier, but she knew instinctively it was Aren. Something about his stride. The way he held his shoulders. The hint of pride that radiated from him as he surveyed the troops. And something else that she couldn’t quite put a finger on . . .
She knew that what her father and Serin had told her about the King of Ithicana had been a lie—though she understood why. It was easier to stab a demon in the back. A much harder thing to betray a man whose actions and choices were driven by a desire to do right by his people. But she also knew that her homeland and Ithicana were at odds, and what would save one would damn the other. The welfare of her people was her priority, her mission to give them the one thing that would ensure their future. And for that reason, Aren could never be anything to her but the enemy.
Aren stepped closer to the training soldiers to say something to the woman leading the exercises, and Lara leaned forward to catch what it was. When she did, a piece of debris slipped off the roof of the barracks, landing with a soft thud on the ground.
Aren turned on his heel, one hand going to the weapon belted at his waist, the other shoving back his hood.
Lara froze. Dressed in black clothes, she was hidden in the darkness atop the roof.Unlesssomeone held up a lantern to investigate a noise.
With the toe of his boot, Aren nudged the fallen bit of branch and leaves. Lara silently willed him to look away.It’s nothing.Just foliage knocked loose by the wind. Happens a hundred times a day.But even as she did, she could relate to the sixth sense that was telling him something wasn’t right.
“Someone bring a lantern over here. And a ladder. I think we’ve got snakes on the roof again.”
Pulse roaring in her ears, Lara eased backward, her fingers clutching the slimy stone of her perch. He’d hear even the slightest noise, but if she didn’t move fast . . .
A horn sounded in the distance, and the Ithicanians—Aren included—stopped what they were doing and turned in the direction of the water. Another horn sounded, this one closer, and Aren gave a sharp nod. “Amaridians are on the move.” He started shouting out orders, but Lara couldn’t afford to stay to listen. Dawn was approaching, and she needed the cover of night to get back into the house undetected. And she needed to be inside by the time the sun was up, or her absence would be noted.
Easing around the back of the barracks, she jumped, catching hold of a tree branch that really needed to be cut back. From tree to tree, she climbed, then dropped into the shelter of the jungle. Using the route she’d established on her first night, she cut over to the path leading up to the house, moving as fast as she dared on the muddy earth.
Gorrick and Lia were guarding the exterior, and she silently circled until she found a place out of sight of both of them, then scaled the wall, crawled over the roof, and dropped into the courtyard. Easing inside through her cracked window, she swiftly scrubbed the mud from her boots and clothes, putting everything back in the wardrobe where it could dry undetected.
A knock sounded at the door, the lock rattling. “Your Grace? It’s dawn.”
Taryn. The woman was like damned clockwork. Since her perceived failure to watch Lara while they were staying at Nana’s house, Taryn was intent on redeeming herself by monitoring Lara like a hawk. She slept in the hall outside Lara’s door—would’ve slept right next to her bed if Lara hadn’t gently noted that Taryn’s snoring rivaled the thunderstorms for volume.
If she didn’t answer, Taryn would likely break down the door. “Coming!”
Throwing on a robe and wrapping a towel around her hair, Lara trotted across the floor and opened the door. “Is something wrong? I heard horns?”
“Amarid,” Taryn replied vaguely, then her eyes narrowed. “Why is there mud on your face?”
“I was just washing it off. Certain muds are good for the skin. They cleanse the pores.”
“Mud?” Taryn gave her a dubious frown, then shook her head, passing a weary hand over her eyes before stepping into the room, giving it a once-over. “I’ve told you not to leave your window open. You’re asking to wake up with a snake under the covers with you.”
