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Click shuffle.
Click shuffle.
Already she hated the sound, but there was no denying that the cane took the burden off her injured leg. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, the guards standing outside the dining room doors watching her progress with undisguised interest. Lara’s heart pounded harder as she neared them, irrationally certain that they’d deny her entry. That they’d not only tell her she was unwelcome inside that room, but also prohibited.
What their intentions were, she didn’t get to discover, for Aster ignored both and rapped his knuckles on the door. He paused for barely a heartbeat before opening it and declaring loudly, “Her Majesty, Queen Lara of Ithicana.”
Lara cringed, for she was certain that Aren had entered the room with no announcement at all. Ithicana was not a nation consumed by formalities. But there was no helping it, so she squared her shoulders and went inside.
Aren was already on his feet. At the sight of her, he moved to come around the dining table, but she gave the slightest shake of her head. His jaw tightened, but he remained at his place, his voice cool as he said, “Get off your asses and show some respect.”
Eyebrows rose on the faces of the watch commanders, but all climbed to their feet. Lara did not fail to notice that Ahnna was the last to comply, the princess’s face unreadable as she watched Lara circle the table and take the seat Aren pulled out for her. It was a struggle not to sigh with relief at being seated, but instead Lara kept her shoulders square as she announced, “Amelie has announced that I am well enough for my convalescence to end.”
“Most welcome news, Your Grace,” Mara, the commander of Northwatch, said, taking her seat once Aren was settled. This was the first time Lara had seen the woman who’d once been so vehemently against her presence in Ithicana, and she wondered if that was still the case. The thought vanished from her mind as Mara added, “We were just discussing Maridrina, and your brother.”
It was impossible not to stiffen. Lara took a long mouthful of water from the glass Aren had just finished pouring for her, then said, “Which one? I have many.”
Ahnna picked up a decanter of whiskey and filled a glass, pushing it in front of Lara. “Keris.”
There was a challenge in the princess’s voice, as though Ahnna were placing the blame for Keris’s actions at Lara’s feet for no reason more than that they shared the same blood. “Ah. Has he taken the throne? Or has someone put a knife in his back?” After what he’d done, Lara hoped it was the latter.
Aren cleared his throat, resting an elbow on the table and meeting Lara’s gaze. “We don’t know. The last information we received was that he was in control in Vencia, was negotiating the return of our Maridrinian prisoners via Southwatch, but the storms have prevented our spies from sending any reports. Once this storm clears, we’ll know more.”
“We should be prepared to act immediately,” Ahnna said before Lara could answer. “Which means learning what we can about our enemy.”
“He’s not our enemy,” Aren said right as Lara snapped, “I don’t know anything about him.”
Silence stretched, the commanders all watching them with interest.
“I left Vencia when I was five,” Lara said. “Since that time, I’ve seen him twice. When we were extracting Aren from the Vencia palace and during the skirmish on the beach north of Nerastis, neither of which were opportune moments toreconnect.I don’t know him. He means nothing to me.”
“You certainly look alike,” Ahnna said, pulling loose a pencil sketch from a pile of papers, then pushing it down the table toward Lara.
“Just as you and I look alike,” Aren retorted. “It is nothing more than having the same parents. If you have questions about Keris, pose them to me. I’m the one who knows him.”
“Do you?” Ahnna asked. “Because it seems that the information previously provided by our spies about Maridrina’s heir are woefully incorrect. They claim he’s a scholar and a pacifist, possessed of no military acumen but a strong proclivity for expensive wine and women.”
Ahnna continued to read from a report in front of her, but Lara barely heard the description of her brother, her eyes fixed on the portrait. The spy who’d drawn it had some talent, having captured Keris almost perfectly. He was frowning, strands of shoulder-length hair spilling about his face, and his full lips slightly parted as though he’d been about to speak. No color had been added, but the longer Lara stared at the drawing, the more her memory filled in the gaps until what she stared at was a reflection of reality. Dark blond hair and fair skin, eyes the deepest of azures and twin to her own.
Ahnna’s voice faded away, replaced by an echo of a memory. Of sitting in the sunshine picking petals from a flower, while a boy sitting cross-legged next to her read aloud from a book. “You really ought to learn, Lara,” he said, looking up from the pages. “Then you can read these stories yourself.”
“I like when you read them to me, Keris.”
Lara blinked away the memory, hearing Aren say, “I’m not sure anyone truly knows him, to be honest. The spies have only seen what Keris wishes for them to know, and it has only been recent events that have caused him to reveal other layers.”
The conversation faded away again, replaced with the blurred outlines of her father’s offices in his tower.
“He’s coming, Lara! Hide!” the boy hissed, pushing her into a closet. “Don’t let him hear you.”
She peered through the slats of the door, heart racing as a man’s form appeared, hands turning clammy as her father’s voice demanded, “What are you doing in here, Keris?” A pause. “Did you do this? Did you make this mess?”
“Yes, Father. I was looking for ink and accidentally spilled it.”
“Useless boy!”
The thud of a heavy blow landing, a cry of pain.
“You’ll be whipped for this.”
