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Face blanched so white her lips were gray, Lara had followed numbly where she’d been led, her arms limp in his grasp as she’d been examined for injuries. No sign of her dry humor or the venomous tongue that he simultaneously loved and loathed. Just . . . nothing.
Closing his eyes, Aren rested his forehead against the bedpost because the other option was to rip it free and smash it against the wall. Fury, unbridled and burning, rushed through his veins. At Ahnna. At the bridge. At himself.
A sound more animal than human rose in his throat, and in a flurry of motion, he twisted and slammed his fist against the wall. Pain blossomed in his knuckles, and he dropped into a crouch, wanting to explode, wanting to run. Knowing none of it would do any good.
Boom.The house shuddered, and his thoughts went to the Rat King’s letter, shoved into his bag, wherever that was. The ultimatum was clear: ally with Maridrina against Valcotta or face war and blockades like those Maridrina had imposed fifteen years prior, lifted only with the signing of the treaty.
They had been the darkest of times. Maridrina had keptanyonefrom landing at Southwatch for two years, completely shutting down trade. Nothing was shipped through the bridge, and Ithicana’s revenues dried up entirely. Without them, there had been no way to feed his people. To keep them provisioned. To keep them alive. Not with violent storms driving fishermen from the seas more days than not. Famine had swept Ithicana. Plague, too. And the idea of going back to that . . .
The alternative was to join with a man who’d been plotting against him in the worst sort of ways. To join a war he wanted no part of. It was profoundly tempting to formally ally with Valcotta for spite. Ithicana’s coffers were strong enough to buy what the kingdom needed for a year or more with no additional revenue from the bridge. Between Southwatch’s shipbreakers and the strength of Valcotta’s fleets, Silas’s armies wouldn’t have a chance.
Yet such an action would place all the suffering on Maridrina’s people.Lara’speople.
Condemning them to starvation would make him the villain the Magpie had painted. Aren would become the man Lara had been raised to hate. But to cede to her father’s request would mean jeopardizing Ithicana when Valcotta came for retribution. There was no solution.
His father’s voice danced through Aren’s head, words shouted at his mother.Ithicana makes no alliances. We are neutral—we have to be, or war will come for us.But like his mother before him, Aren now believed the time for neutrality had come to an end. Except there was a difference between desiring an alliance and allowing its terms to be dictated by another man.
Aren wavered, then in two strides, he was at his desk. Flipping open the hidden compartment, Aren extracted the letter he’d started to Silas those months ago. Staring at the polite greeting and appropriate honorifics, he shoved the page aside, reaching for a clean sheet.
Silas,
Ithicana will not cease trade with Valcotta. Should you wish to see an end to their naval aggression, I suggest you desist in your attacks on Valcotta’s northern border. Only with peace between your two nations does Maridrina have the chance to return to health and prosperity. As to your insinuation that Ithicana has not held to the spirit of the agreement between our nations, we feel it necessary to point out your hypocrisy in making such a claim. In the best interests of both our peoples, we will forgive your schemes and allow Maridrina to continue to trade at Southwatch market under the terms agreed upon. Let it be said, however, that should you seek to retaliate against yourspy, Ithicana will take it as an act of aggression against itsqueen, and the alliance between our kingdoms will be irrevocably severed.
Choose wisely.
Aren
He stared at the letter, knowing he could never tell Lara what he had written. Her life had been dedicated to easing the plight of her people, and she wouldn’t forgive him threatening those very same people for the sake of protecting her. Yet there could be no other way to ensure Silas wouldn’t harm her. God help him if he was forced to follow through.
Rising, Aren stepped out into the hallway, walking until he found Eli.
“Bring this to the barracks when the storm eases. Tell Jor it’s to be sent immediately to the King of Maridrina.”
Retreating to his rooms, Aren opened the door to the courtyard. And stepped out into the storm.
33
Lara
Lara landedwith a thump on her knees, knife gripped in one hand. Darkness surrounded her. Thunder rumbled through the room, followed by two flashes of lightning that faintly illuminated the outline of a window. The wood floor beneath her was polished smooth, and the air was thick with moisture and the earthy scent of jungle.
Hot tears ran down her face, and she scrubbed them off her cheeks. The moment she’d returned to Midwatch, she intended to find her way into Aren’s room to destroy the damnable proof of her betrayal before it could go any further. To do it without him knowing because she could never let him read those words.
It was one thing for him to know that she’d lied to him. Manipulated him. Deceived him. Quite another to read the proof of it. For him to see every moment that he’d believed a connection was growing between the two of them had been a strategy to gain the information she needed. That, after all they’d been through, she had still made the choice to destroy him that fateful night he’d kissed her in the mud.
Not only was it unforgivable, the amount of hurt it would cause him to read it . . . She couldn’t let that happen. Not when simply destroying the pages would eliminate all the evidence. Her plan had been to lightly drug Aren at dinner, then to sneak into his room and start a small fire on his desk that could easily be blamed on a candle left too close to a piece of paper. She could then claim to have smelled the smoke, her screams and pounding on the door enough to wake him and alert the staff. Between the flames and the water it would take to douse them, all the stationery bearing her invisible message would be ruined beyond use. It was a dangerous, damaging plan, but she’d rather chance burning the Midwatch house to the ground than risk Aren questioning why all of his stationery had mysteriously gone missing.
But while Lara had waited for the dinner hour, exhaustion had taken over, and she’d fallen asleep on the clean soft sheets of her bed. Now the scents of dinner were wafting under the door, and she wasn’t the least bit prepared.
“You can fix this,” she muttered, climbing to her feet. Pulling on one of her silken Maridrinian dresses and running a brush through her hair, Lara’s mind raced as she shoved a vial of narcotic into her bracelet. Out in the hallway, she hurried toward the shuttered dining room, certain she’d find Aren there. He was not one to neglect his stomach.
But there was only Eli, who started at the sight of her. “We thought you’d want dinner in your room, my lady,” he said. “Do you wish to eat in here instead?”
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Do you know where he is?” There was only onehein this house.
“His rooms, my lady. He didn’t want dinner.”
Logic and her training whispered that she should wait for another night. Another opportunity. Better to do that than risk being caught. Yet Lara found herself instead hurrying down the opposite hall to Aren’s room, her bare feet silent on the cool floor.
