The Bridge Kingdom

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Heart thudding, Lara dropped to her stomach, crawling to the edge and peering over. Below, a group exited from the trees, one of them carrying a jar of a faintly glowing substance.

  “They don’t know they’re above Gamire, Jor.” Lia’s voice. “That’s the whole damn point.”

  “Doesn’t make it less of a pain in our asses.”

  Lara rolled to the opposite edge from the party below, then carefully lowered herself down the side, her sweating fingers quivering from the effort.

  “Are you two about finished up there?”

  Aren’s voice. One of Lara’s hands slipped, and she gasped, dangling from one hand until she regained her grip.

  “We had a look. There’s a merchant party camped for the night right below us, and the topside hatch is too close for us to enter undetected. It’s a three-mile walk either direction to the next hatch, and with those winds blowing in, I wouldn’t advise it. No one is looking to spend the night tied to the bridge top in the pouring rain.”

  Aren let out a weary sigh. “By boat it is, then.”

  “And rough waters. I hope whatever Nana gave your lovely bride will settle her stomach enough for the journey. Though something strong might be in order to deal with her damned panic.”

  “Leave Lara alone.” Aren’s voice wasn’t amused. “She was raised in the desert, and she can’t swim. Falling in the water is a valid fear.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jor muttered, and Lara used the sound to clamber down farther. When she was ten feet from the bottom, she jumped, her bare feet making only the faintest slap as she hit the ground and rolled, taking five long steps until she was out of sight in the trees. Mud squished between her toes as she circled around, watching as Aren rested his hands against the pier, one above the other, and pressed twice. A faint click, and a panel of rock swung open. He went inside.

  Above, Jor and Lia had looped a rope through one of the many rings embedded in the bridge and were climbing down the pier side by side. Lia was pulling the rope through the loop when Aren reemerged and said, “There’s someone sleeping right against the bloody door.”

  “Like I said,” Jor replied. “Idiots.”

  “It is what it is. Let’s go.” Aren started down the path toward Nana’s home. To retrieve her, she realized.

  Shit. Lara waited until the others had followed before creeping up to the pier to retrieve her boots from their hiding place. It was going to be a mad dash to get back to Nana’s ahead of them undetected, but she couldn’t leave without having a look inside. Pressing her hands twice in the same spot Aren had, Lara grinned as the door swung open.

  She’d expected it to be entirely dark inside, but the curved stairs leading upward were illuminated by more glowing jars. Taking the steps three at a time, she reached a smooth stone wall. Knowing there was a risk of being caught, but judging it worth the reward, she pressed her hands against it twice.

  Click.

  She winced at the sound, then eased the door open a crack, the heavy block moving on silent hinges. There was indeed a man sleeping in front of it, his snores likely all that had kept the masked Ithicanian soldiers sitting guard inside from hearing the noise.

  The doorway needed to be marked so her father’s soldiers could find it from the inside. Yet she knew the Ithicanians swept the bridge for any signs of tampering, so it had to be something they wouldn’t notice.

  Her mind raced through the years of Serin’s lessons, knowing she needed a solution and that it needed to present itself immediately or Aren was going to reach Nana’s before her and find her missing.

  An idea sprung into her thoughts. Pulling out her knife, Lara sliced open a shallow wound on her forearm then tucked away the blade. Covering her fingers in blood, she carefully traced the outer rim of the door. Once dry, it wouldn’t be noticeable against the stone. But if sprayed with the right compound, it would react.

  There was no time to do anything else.

  Carefully closing the door, Lara flew down the stairs and pushed the door in the base shut. Then she was running as fast as she dared, her bare feet scraping against roots and rocks. But she couldn’t move this swiftly in her heavy Ithicanian boots while maintaining any level of silence.

  Ahead, she picked out the faint glow of the jar Aren carried, and she slowed her speed, moving up as close behind them as she dared. She considered trying to pass them in the trees, but there was no chance of them not hearing her. Not in the dark, at this pace.

  Nana’s house appeared ahead.

  Think of a plan, she silently screamed at herself even as she watched Aren round the house. Open the door. He was back out in a flash shouting, “Where is she?”

  Tugging on her boots, Lara cut into the trees, then stepped out into the clearing, walking through it toward Aren. “I’m right here, so quit yelling.”

  He stared at her, as did his bodyguard and the guard tasked with watching the house. Nana chose that moment to fling open the door to the outhouse clad only in a nightdress and boots.

  “What,” Aren demanded, “are you doing wandering the woods in the middle of the night?”

  Serin’s voice echoed through her head: Most people lie to avoid embarrassment. Very few people lie to embarrass themselves, which inclines others to believe them.

  Lara looked at the ground, knowing that the sweat running down her face and her ruddy complexion would only add truth to the lie. “I wasn’t feeling well, and the facilities were”—she gestured at Nana—“occupied.”

  Aren turned to his grandmother. “Are you ill?”

  “The shits. I’ll live.”

  “It must’ve been something we ate.” Lara pressed a hand to her stomach as though it pained her. “Or perhaps some filth on those mice you made me touch.”

  “Mice? You made her feed your snakes?” Shaking his head, Aren rounded on the guard. “Where the hell were you?”

  “Here. I didn’t see her leave. I was watching.”

  “Not very well.”

  “I was trying to be discreet,” Lara snapped, kicking the toe of her boot into the dirt. “Now if you’re all finished gaping at me, I’d like to go back to sleep.”

  Aren exhaled a long breath.

  “What?” Lara folded her arms under her breasts and looked up at him.

  “A fleet of thirty Amaridian ships is lurking off Ithicana’s coast. There’s a squall blowing in that might buy us some time, but Midwatch is under my command, and I need to get back to prepare our defenses.”

  “They intend to raid?”

  “Likely.” He exhaled. “You can come back with us or stay here with Nana for War Tides. Your choice.”

  “I’ll go back to Midwatch.” There was no bloody way in hell she was spending another day with that awful woman. Never mind that judging from Nana’s narrow-eyed expression, the old woman wasn’t entirely fooled by her deception. No doubt she’d tie Lara to the bed every night and triple her guard. And because she needed to step forward with her plan to lure Aren in, Lara added, “I want to go with you.”

  His brow furrowed, and he glanced away. “We can’t go through the bridge. There’s a merchant party on their way to Southwatch camped above this pier for the night, and we can’t get in without them seeing. It will have to be by boat.”

  Lara swallowed the unease that burned in her stomach, hearing the rising winds. Control your fear, she commanded. There is much to be gained here if you keep your wits about you.

  “I’ll manage,” she muttered.

  Aren turned on Taryn, who was rubbing her temples. “Not your finest hour, soldier. Jor will deal with your punishment once we’re home.”

  “Sorry, Your Grace,” Taryn said, and guilt briefly rose in Lara before she swallowed it away.

  Aren led Lara by the hand through the darkness, Jor in the lead and the groggy Taryn behind, the other woman carrying something bulky that bumped against her shoulder as she ran.

  The winds were rising higher by the second, but over them, the surf slamming against the c
liff walls filled Lara’s ears, and her heart thundered riotously knowing they intended to sail upon it. Sweat rolled in beads down her back as they reached the cliff tops overlooking the sea, nothing visible in the blackness, the moon and stars obscured by clouds.

  It began to rain.

  A cold drizzle that soaked her hair and trickled down the back of her tunic as she watched the soldiers stationed on the island strain to lift what appeared to be an enormous wooden ladder up into the air. The end of it was attached to ropes, and it took eight of them to lower it over the edge of the cliff into the darkness below.

  “There’s a large rock outcropping below,” Aren shouted into her ear. “We’ll climb down, then wade over to the islet where we have the boats moored. It’s low tide, but the water will still be up to your knees.”

  “Let’s go!” Jor was on the ladder and climbing down toward the crashing sea below, Lia following him.

  “I’ll go first. Then you, then Taryn.”

  Lara nodded wordlessly, unable to speak around the chatter of her teeth. Aren swung onto the ladder and clambered down, but when Lara gripped the rungs, her fingers felt numb. Her arms and legs trembled, and it took all her willpower to descend. Down and down toward the water.

  If they can do it, so can you. She repeated the chant, her lips moving silently, her hands slick with sweat, spray drenching her clothes as wave after wave hammered the outcropping below. Finally, Aren’s hands closed around her waist, steadying her as she stepped onto the slimy rocks. Taryn was down a moment later, and when she gave the call, there was a creak as the soldiers lifted the ladder back onto the island.

  Lara could see nothing. Nothing. But all around her, water roared. One step in the wrong direction and she was done for. The thought had her dropping to her knees, her fingers clutching at the rocks.

  “We don’t have time for you to crawl,” Aren shouted over the noise. “We’ll be in a far worse spot if we’re stuck out here when the tide turns.”

  Her knees trembled as she rose, her breath coming in great gasping whooshes as she took one step, then two, allowing Aren to guide her.

  “Jor’s marked the path.” Aren lifted her hand, using it to point, because she couldn’t so much as see his outline in the blackness.

  There.

  Smears of glowing algae were faintly visible every few paces. Her heart steadied, and she pressed forward, her confidence growing with each step.

  “There’s about a ten foot stretch here that’s submerged. You’ll be up to your knees, but the current is strong, so hold on to me.”

  “Damn you for making me do this.”

  Aren laughed, which pissed her off enough to take the first step.

  Lara’s boot filled with water, the current shoving against her leg, then dragging her in the opposite direction as it surged. She clung to Aren’s belt, feeling Taryn’s steadying hand on her shoulder from behind.

  Step.

  Step.

  Her toe caught on a rock, and Lara stumbled, a sob tearing from her throat as she caught her balance.

  Step.

  Step.

  A large wave surged against her, and she slid sideways, her legs washing out from under her. She was up to her waist in water, only her grip on Aren’s belt keeping her upright. Her scream cut the night, frantic and desperate and primal, then his hands closed around her arms, dragging her from the water.

  “You’re out. It’s all right. Worst is over.”

  “The second I’m on dry land, I’m going to gut you like a pig!” She hated being afraid and the only thing strong enough to chase the emotion away was anger. “I am going to smother you in your sleep!”

  A dozen voices laughed, Jor’s voice the loudest of them all. “And she finally shows her true intentions.”

  Aren snorted. “You might want to curb your vitriol until you’re in a place where I can’t pick you up and toss you into the drink.” Then Aren stomped to the far side of the islet.

  Taryn’s hand caught her elbow, helping her up. “It will only take us an hour to get to Midwatch.” She pressed a strap into Lara’s hand. “I had one of the villagers make this for you. If something happens, it will keep you afloat until one of us can get you back in the boat.”

  Lara ran her hands along the object, which was a looped strap secured to a cask. A small act, but an enormous kindness. And one Lara didn’t deserve. “Thank you.”

  The Ithicanians deposited her in one of the boats, and she cowered there, clinging with one hand to her cask and the other to the edge as they pushed out into the water. Their voices were unconcerned, despite this being madness that no sane individual would undertake under any circumstances.

  The boat rose and fell on waves, and her stomach did the same, but Lara couldn’t let go long enough to dig the root Nana had given her out of her pocket. She was busy puking over the edge when the group went silent, their hands still on ropes and rudders and lines.

  “There they are.” Lia’s voice.

  Jor cursed under his breath. “I hope this storm turns nasty and puts them at the bottom of the sea.”

  Lifting her head, Lara stared blearily out over the water. Bobbing in the distance were dozens, no, hundreds of lights. And carrying on the wind toward them was the sound of music and singing voices.

  Ships.

  The Amaridian fleet.

  “We should go light a few of them up,” Lia snapped. “That would put a damper on their party.”

  As one, all heads turned in Aren’s direction. Fingernails digging into the edge of the boat, Lara waited to see how he would respond.

  “Keep on to Midwatch.” His voice was low.

  “But we could sink a few of them,” Lia argued. “We have the supplies.”

  “Midwatch,” Aren repeated. “They haven’t attacked, and we do not instigate.”

  “But they will! You know as soon as the weather turns, they’ll raid!”

  “When they do, we’ll fight them. Same as always.”

  There was no emotion in Aren’s voice, but Lara could feel frustration and anger coming off him in waves.

  “Or we could stop them now.” Lia was not giving up.

  “They’re outside our waters and they’ve shown no aggression.” Aren shifted restlessly, his knee brushing against Lara’s back. “If we attack unprovoked, Amarid will have cause to declare war against us. This is a few ships—a raid. We can deal with that. The full force of Amarid’s navy against us is quite a different matter. Ithicana does not instigate conflict—we can’t afford to. Now get us back to Midwatch.”

  Wordlessly, everyone began to move and the boats regained their speed, skipping across the waves. Yet Lara couldn’t tear her gaze from the fading light of the fleet, her father’s speech from that fateful dinner shifting and rattling through her head. For as long as memory, Ithicana has placed a stranglehold on trade, making kingdoms and breaking them like it were some dark god.

  She’d believed that. Believed him without question. Yet Aren’s words . . . they weren’t those of a ruler with god-like power. Quite the opposite. They were the words of a leader of a kingdom fighting to survive.

  20

  Aren

  Aren rubbed his eyes, which felt like they’d been filled with sand and then left to bake in the summer sun for a week. His ribs throbbed, his back ached, and his palms were marked with blisters from too many days of overuse. The worst was the tooth he was fairly certain had been knocked loose when Lara accidentally smacked his face after she’d been almost swept into the ocean. He prayed it resolved itself, or Nana would never let him hear the end of it.

  “We’re as ready as we can be.” Jor drank deeply from a silver flask he took from a pocket before passing it across the firepit to his king. “You look like you need this.”

  He probably did need it, but Aren waved the flask away. His team, the green-faced Lara in tow, had returned to Midwatch just prior to dawn, and the entire day had been spent in preparation for the inevitable Amaridian attack. Now, th
ere was little to do but watch the weather. With the winds still high, the raiders would be unlikely to attempt a landing, but a light squall like this one wouldn’t last. And it certainly wouldn’t be enough to drive the ships back to the safety of Amaridian harbors. “I’m going to take the next patrol.”

  Jor lifted one eyebrow. “You already did your shift.”

  “I need to move. You know the sitting drives me to madness.”

  “It’s a cold rain. You’ll be regretting your decision halfway around the island.”

  “Regret,” Aren said, picking up his cloak, “is currently my middle name.”

  “You’re particularly whiney tonight.”

  Scratching his cheek with his middle finger, Aren lifted a hand to acknowledge the soldier who’d just come in from walking the perimeter, then started to the door.

  “Might as well go with you. Just in case you give up halfway and run to the comfort of the fancy house.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  The driving rain was, in fact, freezing, the wind tearing at the hood of Aren’s cloak until he gave up on covering his head. They walked in silence for a long time, more focused on keeping their footing on the slick rocks and mud as they traversed the cliffs overlooking the sea. More than a few soldiers had fallen to their deaths, and despite the series of shitty days he’d had, Aren didn’t care to join their ranks.

  When they reached the first lookout, both of them casting their eyes out over the storm-tossed waters, Jor finally said, “You were right to stand your ground with them yesterday.”

  “Maybe.” Aren’s thoughts drifted to the meeting at Eranahl, to the hard faces of his Watch Commanders as they had arrived, weaving their way through the evacuees disembarking from their ships, supplies and crying children everywhere. Most disorganized evacuation in recent history, he’d heard muttered more times than he could count. He was inclined to agree with the sentiment.

  “It’s the council’s duty to question you. They pushed your mother constantly, especially about this. She learned to know when they were giving good advice and when it was their fear talking—when to stand her ground and when to concede.”