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Sometimes there were merchants in the caravans, but always they were flanked by Ithicanian guards wearing masks. Before encountering any of them, her own group would don identical masks, and Lara idly wondered what the merchants would think if they knew the rulers of Ithicana had passed them in the darkness.
They made camp in the bridge two nights in a row, eating cold rations they’d picked up at Southwatch with only water to drink. The guards took rotating shifts on watch, everyone sleeping with only their pack for a pillow and their cloaks for blankets. Privacy was nonexistent, and by the third day of walking, Lara was almost frantic to be free of the place.
“Home sweet home,” Jor said, and the rest of the group stopped, silently watching while the captain rested both hands against pressure points on the bridge wall. A soft click filled the air, and a door-sized block of stone swung inward on silent hinges, revealing a small chamber with an opening in the floor.
Jor stepped inside and looked down. “Tide’s still too high. We’ll have to wait a bit.”
“I’m taking Lara topside,” Aren abruptly stated. “The rest of you wait down here.”
No one said anything, Taryn and Jor silently opening the hatch in the ceiling. Aren boosted Lara up, then hauled himself outside. Leaving the hatch open, he walked several dozen paces down the length of the bridge. Lara followed, stopping next to one of the thick steel rings embedded in the rock that the Ithicanians used for their zip lines.
The storm had been short, ending on their second day in the bridge, although another was brewing on the horizon. For now, the sky around Midwatch was clear and sunny, the water below a tranquil blue. The fresh air and open space instantly relieved the oppressive pall the bridge had cast.
“We need to talk, Lara.”
Her heart skittered, her veins flooding with trepidation.
“I know you’re a spy for your father.”
Her stomach hollowed. “Iwasa spy for my father. I am no longer.”
“I’m going to need more proof than just your word.”
“The proof is that I’m here. With you.”
Silence.
When Lara’s nerve finally frayed, she asked, “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Aren turned to face Midwatch, tension radiating off him. “I suppose one question is obvious: Did you pass any information back to him that I should know about?”
“I’ve given him nothing.” Because she hadn’t. Not one single thing. Not with all those damnable pieces of paper still sitting in his desk, waiting for her to destroy them.
He exhaled a long breath. “I suppose that’s something.”
Something.
The need for him to know the reasonbehind her actions burned in Lara’s chest. “Serin and my other teachers, they lied to me. All my life, they lied about the nature of Ithicana, about the relationship between your kingdom and mine. They painted you as a dark oppressor that used its power over trade to suppress my people. To control them. To starve them. All for the sake of profit. They told me that you killed merchants and sailors for no reason other than that they’d come too close to your shores. Not just killed, but maimed and tortured for sport. That you were a demon.”
Aren said nothing, so she continued. “They made me believe that doing this would save my people. That it was righteous. Now I understand that that’s why they kept me locked up in the compound—so I might never learn the truth. And they believed you would keep me similarly contained so that I would have no chance to learn the truth until it was too late.”
“And what is the truth?”
What was the truth? Lara had no delusions that she was a good person in the way of someone like Marisol. She’d killed Valcottan warriors brought to her compound for no reason other than it was their lives or hers. Learned countless ways to torture, maim, and kill. She’d stood by while the servants who’d cared for her and her sisters since they were children were murdered in cold blood. Had watched while the man who’d been like a father to her slit his own throat out of misplaced guilt. She’d lied and deceived and manipulated, and nearly doomed an entire nation.Good,she was not.
Yet neither did she believe that she was evil. She’d condemned herself to this fate in order to save the lives of her sisters, whom she loved above all things. And once here, she’d followed through with her mission on the belief she was saving her people. Noble motivations, perhaps, except she wasn’t entirely certain that they absolved her of guilt. Knowing what would happen to Ithicana, she’d still written instructions on how to destroy it. She’d made that choice. All she could do now was try to atone. “The truth is . . . the truth is thatIam the villain.” But she would play that part no longer.
More silence.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Lara.” With his words, the tension between them ratcheted up. “I’ve . . . suspected for some time now, but hearing you say it . . . I don’t know.”
A frantic fear fluttered in her chest. A fear that she’d lost him. That he hated her. That he’d never forgive her.
“I didn’t give him anything, Aren.” She so desperately wanted to salvage what was left between them. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Haven’t done anything?” He whirled around to face her. “How can you claim that? How can you say you’ve donenothingwhen, from the moment we were married, you’ve been plotting to stab me in the back? Everything you’ve said, everything you’ve done, everything between us has been a damned lie. A way to manipulate me into trusting you so that you could learn Ithicana’s secrets, then use them against us. All while I, like a bloody fool, was trying to win you over.”
