Finally, Aren asked, “Why would you want to? And please don’t tell me it’s to sustain what is so obviously not a close father-daughter relationship.”
A dozen nasty retorts formed in her mind, and Lara bit down on every last one of them. She did need the cursed man to fall for her. “It has been made clear to me that to protect the interests of Ithicana, I will never be allowed to see my family, my home, or even my people again. That this house, as lovely as it may be, is to be my prison for as long as you see fit. Pen and paper are all I have left to maintain my connection with all that I have left behind. That is, if you allow it.”
He looked away, his jaw working as though he were waging some great internal debate. Then his eyes flicked to his sister, the woman giving him the very faintest shake of her head. Which was interesting. Ahnna portrayed herself as the lighthearted and compassionate of the pair, but perhaps that was not an accurate assessment of her character.
Yet whatever warning had passed between brother and sister, Aren chose to ignore it. “You are welcome to correspond with your father. But your letters will be read, and if they contain information that jeopardizes Ithicana, you will be asked to remove it. If you’re caught using a code, your privileges will be revoked.”
What he might ask her to remove would reveal a great deal, a concept that was not lost on the Commander of Southwatch. Ahnna’s eyes flashed with irritation, and she opened her mouth before shutting it again, unwilling to compromise her performance. Though Lara had no doubt she’d argue against the correspondence once Lara was out of earshot.
“I don’t care for having my private letters read,” Lara argued, only because he’d expect it.
“And I don’t overly care to read them,” Aren snapped. “But we must all do things we don’t care to do, so I suggest you get used to it.” And without another word, he shoved back his chair and exited the room with a slight sway to his step.
Ahnna let loose a world-weary sigh. Pulling the cork from another bottle of wine, she filled Lara’s glass to the brim. “At Southwatch, this is what we call an Ahnna pour.”
Despite knowing that the woman’s behavior was an act to earn her trust, Lara smiled, taking a mouthful of the liquid. “Is he always this quick to temper?” she asked, even as she thought, Is he always this much of a prick?
The smile on the other woman’s face fell away. “No.” There was a slight slur to her voice, and she frowned at her glass. “God, how much of this did I drink?”
“Amarid makes the finest wines in the world—hard not to indulge.”
Moments later, Ahnna’s chin hit the table with a heavy thud. One of the servants entered at that precise moment, his jaw dropping at the sight of his princess snoring at the dinner table.
“Overindulged,” Lara said with a grimace. “Will you help me get her to her room?”
Ahnna was deadweight between the two of them as they half dragged, half carried her down the hallway and into her room, which was as lovely as Lara’s own.
“If you hold her, Majesty, I’ll check the sheets for snakes.”
Snakes? The thought distracted Lara enough that she nearly fell sideways under Ahnna’s weight when the boy let go. He walked over to the bed and gave it a solid kick before flipping down the bedding, which was thankfully devoid of serpents.
Easing Ahnna onto the bed, Lara dodged a near kick to the face as the taller woman rolled onto her stomach with a muffled grumble. Jerking off her boot, which had a wicked-sharp blade concealed within it, Lara tossed it next to the bed, followed by the other, then dusted off her hands. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said to the boy, exiting the room and waiting for him to follow. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Eli, my lady. I should say, this isn’t normal for Ah . . . Her Highness.” He bit at his lower lip. “Perhaps I should let His Grace—”
“Let it be.” Lara closed the door. “No need to embarrass her further.”
The servant looked ready to argue, then Ahnna let out a loud snore, audible through the thick door, and seemed to think better of it. “Do you require anything else this evening, Your Grace?”
Lara shook her head, wanting him gone. “Goodnight, Eli.”
Bowing, he said, “Very good. Please check your bed for—”
“Snakes?” She gave him a smile that turned his cheeks pink against the soft brown curls of his chaotic hair. He bowed again before fleeing down the hallway. Lara listened for the clatter of dishes being removed from the dining room, then silently let herself back into Ahnna’s room, flipping the latch shut behind her.
The princess did not so much as twitch as Lara methodically searched for any information of use, sighing covetously at the woman’s arsenal of weapons, which were all of the finest make. But else of interest, there was nothing beyond a few keepsakes, a jewelry box with some worthless items, and a music box with a false bottom filled with poetry. A childhood bedroom now seldom used.
After turning down the lamp, Lara eased open the door to ensure the hall was empty before striding to her own room. There had been noise of activity at both ends of the hallway; no chance of her making it to the other side of the house without one of the servants noticing. Chewing on her thumbnail, Lara eyed the clock. The narcotic wasn’t intended to last long, and the king hadn’t indulged in wine to the extent his sister had. Which meant she was running short of time.
Slipping off her dress, Lara retrieved some toweling, along with soaps and scrubs and, lamp in hand, she stepped out into the courtyard. The night air was cool, a light mist of rain dampening her shift as she walked barefoot down the stone path toward the hot spring. Setting her bathing supplies next to the pool, Lara slid off her shift and slipped into the steaming water, taking one of her knives in with her. Then she turned down the lamp to a bare glow and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The noise of the jungle managed to be both deafening and soothing, a ceaseless cacophony that settled the rapid patter of her heart as she rested her elbows on the edge of the pool, perusing her surroundings. The chittering of birds merged with the rustle of leaves, the sharp shrieks of monkeys called back and forth through the trees. A creature, perhaps a frog of sorts, made a repetitive rattling noise, insects droned, and mixed with it all was the gurgle of the waterfall behind her.
Watch. Listen. Feel.
The latter had always served her best. Master Erik had called it the sixth sense—the unconscious part of the mind that took what all the other senses provided, then added something more. An intuition that could be tuned and honed into the most valuable sense of all.
So whether she heard a sound or saw a motion, Lara could not have said, but her attention snapped from the roofline to the opening under the house through which the stream flowed.
Guard.
Sure enough, as she stared into the darkness, her eyes eventually picked out the shape of a foot resting against a rock. A flash of irritation that they’d dare to watch her while she bathed was erased by the obvious necessity. Aren was the King of Ithicana, and she was the daughter of an enemy kingdom. Of course any avenue between them would be guarded.
After ensuring there were no other guards, she marked the sightlines. Searched for places that would give her cover. She glanced at her white shift resting in clear sight and eased into the stream that drained the pool, crawling on her elbows to keep her body beneath the bank. Warm water caressed her naked body as she crept down to the decorative bridge, which she used as cover to ease out, moving silently behind a bush with wide leaves.
From there, she made quick work of crossing the courtyard, coming up beneath the king’s window, which was slightly ajar.
Adjusting a frond to cover her arm, she stretched upward and pulled the window open wider.
Breathe.
Reaching up with both arms, she heaved herself through the small gap, the frame scraping over her naked ass as she flipped, landing silently on her feet inside the dimly lit room, knife blade clenched between her teeth.
>
She was met by Aren’s cursed enormous cat staring at her with golden eyes. Lara held her breath, but the animal only leapt onto the windowsill and slipped out into the courtyard.
Her gaze went immediately to the man sprawled across the large, canopied bed. Aren lay on his back, wearing only a pair of undershorts, the sheets tangled around his lower legs.
Knife gripped in her hand, Lara stepped carefully toward the bed, using one of the rugs to clean her feet. No need to leave her tiny footprints.
There’d been no doubt in her mind after seeing him naked earlier that he was an impressive specimen of a man, but this time, she had no fear of being caught staring. Twice her breadth in the shoulders, he was muscled in the way of an individual who pushed his body to the limits on a regular basis. Combat, judging from the scars, but his leanness spoke of an active life, not a man who sat back and ruled from a throne.
Circling the bed, she examined his face: high cheekbones, strong jaw, full lips, and black lashes that a harem wife would die for. Scruff marked the line of his chiseled jaw, and she had to curb the urge to reach out and run her finger along it.
Maridrina will starve before they ever see the benefit of this treaty.
His words echoed through her mind, and of its own volition, Lara’s hand snaked up, resting the edge of her blade against the steady pulse at his throat. It would be easy. One slice, and he’d bleed out in a matter of moments. He might not even wake long enough to sound the alarm. She’d be gone by the time they even realized he was dead.
And she would have accomplished nothing besides destroying the only chance Maridrina had for a better future.
Lara lowered her knife and made her way to the desk. Her heart skipped as she took in a polished wooden box of heavy parchment embossed with Ithicana’s bridge, edges gleaming with gilt. The very same stationery Serin had shown her that Aren used for official correspondence. She immediately searched for anything written on it that was directed to Maridrina. All she found were stacks of short notes on cheap paper, and she flipped through, taking in the reports from spies from every kingdom north and south. More reports from Northwatch and Southwatch islands, revenues, requirements for arms and soldiers and supplies.
Provisions for Eranahl . . .
Frowning, she eased the sheet of paper out from under a stack when the bed creaked behind her.
Twisting, her stomach plummeted as her gaze locked with Aren’s. He was propped up on one arm, shoulder muscles straining against the sleek golden brown of his skin.
“Lara?” His voice was rough, eyes blurry from narcotics, sleep, and . . . lust. His gaze roved over her naked body, then he rubbed his eyes as though not quite certain whether she was real or an apparition.
Do something!
Her training, drilled into her by her masters, finally kicked in. Either she followed through with what her standing there naked promised, or she found a way to get him back to sleep. The former was the safer strategy, but . . . But that wasn’t a card she was yet willing to play.
“How did you get in here?” His gaze was sharpening. If she didn’t act soon, he’d remember seeing her when he woke, and that was not part of her plan.
Believe that you are something to be desired, and he will believe it, too, the voice of Mezat, the sisters’ Mistress of the Bedroom, said, invading Lara’s thoughts. Desire is your weapon to wield as wickedly as any sword.
That had seemed so simple back on the compound. Much less so, now. But she had no other choice.
Slipping the vial from her bracelet, Lara covered her finger with the drug before lifting it to her mouth to coat her lips.
“Shh, Your Grace. Now is not the time for conversation.”
“A shame. You have such a pleasant way with words.”
“I’ve other talents.”
A slow smirk rose to his face. “Prove it.”
A droplet of the narcotic beaded on Lara’s bottom lip as she strolled with false confidence toward the bed, feeling Aren drink her in. Watching his arousal take hold. Perhaps there was something to Mezat’s teachings after all.
Climbing onto the bed, she straddled him, her pulse roaring in her ears as he reached up one hand to cup her ass. His lips parted as though he’d say something, but she silenced him with a kiss.
The first kiss of her life, and she was giving it to her enemy.
The thought danced away as he groaned into her, his tongue chasing over her drug-laced lips, then delving deeper into her mouth, the sensation opening an unexpected floodgate of heat between her legs.
She silently willed the drugs to work as she kissed him again, hard and demanding, feeling his other hand graze the bottom of her breast until she caught hold of it and pinned it to the mattress. He chuckled softly, but she marked the way his eyelids fluttered, barely conscious, even as his other hand trailed down her bottom, down the back of her leg and then up the inside of her thigh. Up and down. Lara felt the drugs starting to take effect on her even as she felt something else building in her core.
He rolled, catching her other hand and pinning them both to the mattress, his teeth nipping at her earlobe and pulling a gasp from her lips. The room spun above her even as her skin burned hot, his lips kissing her throat. Between her breasts. A singular kiss, just below her navel, turning her breathing to ragged gasps.
Then Aren sighed once, slumped, and went still.
Lara stared unblinking at the ceiling, her heart in her throat. But every beat seemed to grow more sluggish, sleep tugging at her, welcoming her into its warm embrace.
Move, she ordered herself, worming her way out from under his weight.
Knowing she had only a matter of minutes before the drug knocked her out, Lara stumbled toward the window, giving the room only a passing glance to ensure it was as she had found it. Her arms shuddered as she eased outside, numb feet finding the cold ground, mud oozing between her toes as she backtracked through the courtyard. Back in the stream, the water danced over her skin, which, despite the narcotic, felt so sensitive that the touch hurt.
The water was warm. Strangely soothing as it pulled her under, welcoming her into its depths.
Soon she was choking. Gasping. Fighting to keep conscious as she reached for the edge and dragged herself out of the pool.
Her body swayed as she pulled the shift over her head. She stumbled up the path, praying the guard would only think her drunk. Her hands hit the solid wood of the door, pushing it in. Shutting it. Turning the bolt.
Get to the bed. Don’t give them a reason to suspect.
Get to the bed.
Get to the . . .
8
Aren
Aren put away the whetstone he’d been running across the blade of a knife, staring off into the depths of the jungle surrounding his home. Though a hundred sounds emanated from the trees—the trickle of water, the calls of animals, the hum of insects—the island felt quiet. Serene. Peaceful.
A warm furry body rubbed against his arm, and Aren reached up to rub Vitex’s ears, the big cat purring contentedly until something in the bushes caught his attention. There’d been a female running about, and even now, Aren spotted her yellow eyes watching them from beneath a large leaf.
“Want to go get her?” he asked his cat.
Vitex only sat on his haunches and yawned. “Good plan. Let her come to you.” Aren chuckled. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
Behind them, there was the sound of boots against marble and the door swinging open. His sister blinked as she stepped outside.
“You’re in better form than I thought you’d be,” he said dryly.
Ahnna frowned at him, using one foot to shove the cat inside so she could shut the door. “Why’s that?”
“Because the amount of wine you must have consumed to have passed out at the table probably means my cellar’s looking lean.”
“Good god, did I?”
“If the chatter I heard coming from the kitchen is to be believed.” Picking up his bow, Aren
stood from where he’d been sitting on the front step, tapping the end of the weapon against his booted toe. “Eli and Lara dragged you back to your room.”
Passing a hand over her eyes, Ahnna shook her head as if to clear it. “I remember talking to her and then . . .” She shook her head again. “Sorry. And sorry I’m late. I slept like the dead.”
So had he, which was strange, given it had been a clear night. Without a storm to guard Ithicana’s shores, Aren normally tossed and turned half the night. He would’ve been late to rise himself if the damn cat hadn’t woken him.
“Good morning, children.”
Aren turned to see Jor appear through the mist, a bread roll he’d clearly filched from the kitchen in one hand.
The older man gave Aren a once-over. “You’re looking awfully well rested for a man who’s just been married.”
Ahnna cackled. “I don’t think he had much company last night. Or any.”
“Pissed the new wife off already?”
Aren ignored the question, a vision of Lara standing at the foot of his bed swimming across his thoughts, her naked body so damnably perfect that it had to have been a dream. The taste of her lips, the feel of her silken skin beneath his hands, the sound of her breath, ragged with desire. It had all been so vivid, but his memory stopped there.
Definitely a dream.
Pulling a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, Aren handed it to Ahnna. “Your marching orders for Southwatch.”
She unfolded it, eyes running over the revised trade terms with Maridrina, brows furrowing with renewed annoyance.
“I’ll walk down with you to the barracks,” he said. “I need a runner to take Northwatch their copy. Maridrina’s already sent buyers through the bridge with gold. They’ll be wanting to get underway.” To Jor, he said, “Who’s on watch?”
“Lia.”
“Good. Keep her here. I don’t expect Lara to cause any trouble, but . . .”
Jor coughed. “About Lara. Aster’s here. He wants a word.”
The Bridge Kingdom Page 6