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Her eyes flicked to Keris, looking him up and down. “We’ll take him, then. But not the rest.”
It was tempting. Oh so terribly tempting to take the woman up on her offer and go through the bridge alone, but Keris knew his father would make him pay for such a decision. He always did.
“I’m sorry for his disrespect.” Walking over to the woman—Raina—Keris stopped a courteous distance from her. “He’s a fool, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”
“I didn’t hit himthathard.” Her voice was withering. “He’ll live.”
“Not if you send him back.” Keris lifted one shoulder. “My father tolerates embarrassment poorly. The unfortunate sot will be dead within an hour of making port unless he finds the courage to jump overboard on the journey back.”
“Perhaps he should have considered the consequences before he spoke.”
“I doubt he’s capable of that much foresight.” Keris glanced at the men, who were silent for once, and he could see in their eyes that they knew the threat was real. Not only to the idiot on the ground, but to all of them. “They won’t step out of line again; you have my word.”
She exhaled a long breath, rocking on her heels. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“We will be on our best behavior.”
Even with her mask, he saw her eyes roll. But she gestured to the wagons. “Get in.”
His entourage scurried toward the traveling wagons, polished affairs with well-upholstered seating that were pulled by pairs of mules. Comfortable enough, but far too close in quarters for Keris’s liking. “Do you mind if I walk?”
Raina shrugged. “Be my guest.”
The caravan creaked into motion, nine more heavily armed Ithicanians flanking the wagons as they trundled out of the warehouse and into the light rain. Raina led the way, and Keris followed at her heels, his eyes going up the slope to the cavernous mouth of the bridge. Mist emanated from the grey stone as the rain struck it, and as they approached, a heavy steel portcullis rose, the rattling of chains rivaling the distant rumble of thunder.
Raina cast her face skyward, the rain splattering against her mask. “Be glad you chose not to go by ship, Your Highness.”
Keris eyed the dark opening, the steel bars of the bottom of the portcullis looking remarkably like teeth. “Why is that?”
“Because there’s a storm coming.” Then, taking a glowing lantern from one of the waiting guards, she led Keris inside the bridge.
2
ZARRAH
Lieutenant Zarrah Anaphora, niece to the Empress of Valcotta, cast her eyes skyward, watching the clouds swirl north, the deck beneath her feet rising and falling with growing violence. “The calm season is coming to an end, would you not agree, cousin? Time for us to return home?”
“Soon. But not yet.” Her cousin Bermin’s voice was deep as the thunder rolling in the distance, and she cast a sideways glance to where he stood at the rail. Head and shoulders taller than her, and more than twice her weight, Prince Bermin Anaphora was everything that could be asked for in a warrior. Unparalleled in strength and bravery and martial skill.
Unfortunately, he was also something of an idiot.
Which was why, when their fleet returned to Nerastis, Zarrah would be taking command of Valcotta’s armies.
The letter she’d received from the Empress containing the orders was hidden in an inner pocket of her uniform, and it took a great deal of self-control not to take out the heavy piece of stationery, the power it granted her making her blood boil with anticipation. Making her want to reach for the knife belted at her side, the opportunity to enact the revenge she’d sought for nearly a decade so close she could almost taste it. Especially with Vencia only a half day’s sail away.
A shout filtered down from the lookout above, and a heartbeat later, the captain of the ship was at her cousin’s elbow. “General, there is a fleet on the horizon.”
“How many?”
“Fifteen, at least, sir.”
“Hmm.” Her cousin pulled a spyglass from his belt, Zarrah doing the same.
Since the Ithicanians had sided with the Maridrinians and broken the Valcottan blockade on Southwatch, her cousin’s fleet had been patrolling the Ithicanian coast, gleefully sinking any Maridrinian ship that came in range even while it protected the Valcottan merchant vessels risking the violent seas to bypass Ithicana’s bridge. They’d had a few glorious skirmishes with the Maridrinian navy, but their murderous prick of a king, Silas Veliant, seemed content to use his forces to protect his own merchant vessels running the gap to Southwatch.
Except judging from the flags flying on the ships racing in Zarrah’s direction, that was about to change.
Her pulse throbbed, her weapons begging to be drawn, to be drenched in Maridrinian blood. Vaguely, she heard her cousin give the orders to sound the alarm and ready for battle, her ears ringing a heartbeat later as the bells jangled, the dozen ships that formed Bermin’s fleet echoing them.
