The Bridge Kingdom

by Danielle L. Jensen

  A small snake, black with yellow bands, was coiled in the center of the bed, hissing angrily at them. Muttering under her breath, Taryn stepped in the hallway and shouted for Eli, who appeared moments later, a long stick with a loop of rope at one end. He deftly caught the creature, the loop tightening around its neck, then departed as quickly as he’d come, snake in tow.

  Apparently, Lara needed to add check room for snakes to her routine when returning from a reconnaissance mission.

  Though there wasn’t much more to be gained from the roof of the barracks. Or from Midwatch, for that matter. It was a nearly impossible nut to crack unless her father could get someone on the inside. Ideally, that would be her, but she fully intended to be long gone before Maridrina invaded, her life as much in danger from her father’s soldiers as it would be from the Ithicanians once they realized she’d betrayed them. Which meant she needed to find an entry point other than Midwatch for her father to exploit.

  “I’m going to nail your window shut.” Taryn stepped aside so that Eli’s aunt could enter with the breakfast tray, which was deposited on the small table. “Or else start locking Vitex in here with you at night.”

  The thought of sleeping with the enormous cat watching gave Lara the shivers. “I’ll keep it shut. I promise.”

  Sitting at the table, Lara loaded two plates full of food and then gestured at the other woman to join her, both of them drinking deeply from their steaming coffees. They’d grown increasingly familiar in their time together, Taryn easy to be around in a way that reminded Lara of her sisters. “Has Amarid attacked?”

  “Not yet. They know they no longer have the element of surprise, so they’ll look for points of weakness.”

  “Is Aren . . .”

  “He’ll be on the water, making sure we have no points of weakness. Why?” Taryn smirked. “Miss him?”

  Lara gave a snort of amusement that could be taken either way, but the wheels were turning in her head. Aren gone meant there was no one on Midwatch to tell her no. “I wanted to ask him something . . .”

  “Oh?”

  “I want to get used to being on the water.”

  Taryn paused in her chewing of a mouthful of ham, then swallowed. “War Tides isn’t exactly the ideal time for sailing aimlessly about, Lara.”

  Lara gave her a gentle kick under the table. “I know that. I was thinking I could sit in a boat in the cove. Then perhaps by the end of War Tides, I’ll have adjusted to the water enough that I might venture further without subjecting everyone to my vomiting.”

  Taryn took another bite of meat, her brow furrowed. “There’s a lot of comings and goings right now . . .”

  “Is there another location that would work better? I don’t want to be in the way.” And if there was another landing point on the island—perhaps one with fewer defenses —it might mitigate her need to find another entrance to the bridge.

  “Nowhere with a proper beach.”

  Lara exhaled in disappointment. “It’s only that I feel so trapped. I want to see more of Ithicana, but with my seasickness and my . . . fear, it seems impossible.”

  Trapped the way Taryn felt trapped. Limited in where she might go and what she might do by circumstance and necessity. Lara watched her words strike home, the other woman setting down her fork, eyes distant as she thought. “I suppose we could try it for an hour and see if anyone takes issue.”

  Lara grinned. “Let me wash the rest of this mud off my face, and then we can go.”

  Three hours later, the two of them sat in a bobbing canoe, Lara trying to keep track of the goings-on in the cove while periodically leaning over the side to empty her guts.

  Taryn had taken her to another building not far from the barracks, which was filled with a variety of vessels that weren’t currently in use. She’d selected a small canoe that wouldn’t fit more than the two of them, so old it barely appeared seaworthy. No one would miss this particular vessel. As they carried it down to the beach, Lara silently considered how she might secret it away for her eventual escape.

  She rested her forearms on the edge of the canoe and watched the chain guarding the mouth to the cove rise so that vessels could ferry goods from the pier to the shore. Crates of food, supplies, and weapons, all hailing from Harendell. There were cages of clucking chickens, three live pigs, and a dozen sides of beef, the Ithicanians’ movements concealed by heavy mist.

  The signal horns never seemed to cease their blowing. Ripples of sound that conveyed countless different messages, judging from the various reactions they incited, and not something that could be mimicked by an untrained Maridrinian soldier. Lara suspected her father would need to enlist musicians should he wish to turn the form of communication to his advantage. Taking a sip from a canteen of water, Lara rubbed her throbbing temple as she listened to the notes, attempting to memorize patterns and responses, though it would take days, probably weeks of listening and watching for her to make any sense of them.

  The canoe had swung around so she was facing away from the cliffs guarding the cove from the sea, but the rattle of the chain caught her attention and she turned to watch a series of vessels enter, her eyes immediately finding Aren in one of them.

  And his finding her.

  She watched him exchange words with Jor, then the vessel altered its course from the beach to Lara’s little canoe. Standing, he held onto the mast as the two boats came alongside. “I suppose there’s an interesting explanation for this?”

  Taryn rose, the canoe rocking, and Lara’s stomach rocked along with it. “Her Grace is of the opinion that exposure will cure her seasickness.”

  “How’s that working out?”

  Taryn gestured at the school of tiny fishes circling the boat, and Lara felt her cheeks warm as they both laughed at her expense. Then Aren said, “Go get some rest, Taryn. I’ll take over for a bit.”

  Lara’s heart skipped as Aren settled on the seat facing Lara. He waited until the other boat was nearly to the beach before asking, “Why exactly have you volunteered yourself for this particular misery?”

  Lara stared at the bottom of the canoe, which was taking on a bit of water through a tiny crack that she’d need patch. “Because. If I don’t learn to master the sea, I’ll never be able to go anywhere with you.”

  “Master?” He leaned forward, and her eyes, of their own accord, fixed on his lips, heat rising to her cheeks as she remembered the feel of them against her own.

  “Perhaps tolerate is a better word,” she murmured, noticing a nasty scrape on the inside of his forearm. “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing. I had an altercation with a rock, and the rock came out better in the exchange.”

  Part of her was afraid to move closer to him, already aware that in his presence, she’d stopped seeing and hearing what was going on around them. But, she told herself, he was also the key to seeing more of Ithicana, and that was a necessary part of her plan. “Let me have a look.”

  He shifted nearer, unbuckling the greave that protected the backside of his arm. “See? Nothing of consequence.”

  “It should still be bandaged.”

  It didn’t need to be bandaged. Both of them knew it. But that didn’t stop her from taking hold of his wrist. Or him from supplying her with salve and a roll of fabric. The boat rocked on a series of larger waves, and his knee bumped against the side of her thigh, sending a surge of heat the rest of the way up her leg, filling her with a sensation that was decidedly distracting.

  Forcing her attention on the injury, Lara picked out a few bits of rock, smeared the raw spots with salve, then carefully wrapped the bandage, but it was impossible not to notice how his breath moved the errant wisps of hair on her forehead. The way the muscles in his forearm flexed when he moved. The way his other hand brushed her hip as he gripped the side of the canoe.

  “You’re knowledgeable in the healing arts.”

  “Any idiot can wind a bandage around an arm.”

  “I meant more what you did on Se
rrith.”

  Lara shrugged, tying off the bandage. “All Maridrinian women are expected to be able to put their husbands back together. I received the appropriate training.”

  “Practicing stitches on a cloth isn’t the same as running a needle and thread through a person’s bleeding skin. I nearly fainted the first time I had to do it.”

  A smile rose on her face, and she unfastened the bandage knot, unsatisfied with it. “Women haven’t the luxury of such squeamishness, Your Grace.”

  “You’re avoiding the question, Your Grace.” His voice was light, teasing, but beneath she sensed a seriousness, as though he were searching for a lie.

  “My sisters and I practiced on the servants and guards whenever there was an injury. On the horses and camels, too.” That was the truth. What she didn’t tell him was that her true training came from trying to save the lives of the Valcottan warriors she and her sisters fought on the training yard. It had been a twisted way to learn. In one heartbeat, trying to take a man’s life. In the next, trying to save it. Only to take it again.

  “It’s a useful skill to have around here. That is, if you’re willing.”

  Buckling the greave over the bandage, the back of her hand brushed his palm, and he closed his fingers around hers. Her train of thought vanished. “I’ll help as much as I’m able to. They’re my people now.”

  His expression softened. “That they are.”

  Both of them jumped as something rapped sharply against the hull of the canoe, and Lara looked up to see Jor standing in the boat next to them, paddle in hand. “You ready?”

  “For what?”

  The older man gave him an incredulous look. “The horns, Aren. Amarid is moving south.”

  Lara hadn’t heard any horns blow. Hadn’t seen the other canoe approach. Hadn’t noticed a goddamned thing while bandaging that arm. And neither, it appeared, had Aren.

  He clambered out of her canoe and into the other vessel, setting them both to rocking, and then they were on the move toward the entrance to the cove. Lara stared after them, finally shouting, “How am I supposed to get back to shore?”

  “You have an paddle,” he shouted back, a wild grin on his face as the wind caught at his hair. “Use it!”

  From that moment, a pattern formed of Lara and Taryn coming down after breakfast to float on the water, rain or shine. At first, it was misery. The incessant bobbing up and down made Lara’s head spin and her stomach heave, but gradually the sickness began to ease, as did the surge of fear she felt stepping off dry land and into the boat.

  The raids were endless, the music of the horns so constant, it seemed an endless song of war. Aren and his soldiers were continuously on the move, chasing off raiders, reinforcing defenses, and ensuring the countless watch stations and outposts were kept supplied. More often than not, their excursions turned into skirmishes, the boats returning full of wounded men and women, the faces of their comrades drawn and exhausted.

  The worst of the injured went to the dozen healers stationed at Midwatch, but those needing only stitches or bandages were left in Lara’s boat for her to tend to. More often than not, one of her patients was Aren, which was the only time Taryn left her side.

  “I’m starting to wonder,” she said as she applied a leech to the swelling on his cheek, smirking when he recoiled from the creature, “if you are purposefully trying to get yourself injured or if you are just that inept.”

  He cringed as she lifted another leech out of the jar. “Is there a third option?”

  “Sit still.” She applied the leech the way the healers had shown her, marveling at the way the swelling almost instantly reduced on his cheekbone, the engorged creatures dropping into her hands when they’d finished. Along with supplies, the healers had also insisted that she be given a better boat, returning her little canoe to its dry dock. She’d been sneaking out at nights to slowly move the vessel to the hiding place she’d selected near one of the cliffs, along with a number of stolen supplies, ready to facilitate her escape when the time was right.

  “You seem to be doing better with the water.”

  “I don’t get sick anymore. Though I suppose it might be different out in the open where the waves are larger.”

  “Perhaps someday we’ll test that theory.”

  Someday. Which meant no time soon. It was a struggle to keep the frown from her face because she was running out of ideas for winning him over. She had won his lust, that much was clear from the way his eyes skimmed over the unlaced neckline of her tunic. Winning his trust, however, was proving to be far more of a challenge.

  She’d thought, for a time, it was because their marriage had yet to be consummated. That maybe he needed that step before he’d hand her the metaphorical keys to the kingdom, but she had since rejected that theory. Aren was not, judging from the offhand comments she’d heard from his soldiers, inexperienced with women, so it would take more than skill in the bedroom to make him fall for her.

  And it would take more than him falling for her to make him trust her.

  For as much as he might come to care for her, he loved his people more. His trust would only come if he believed she was as loyal to his people as he was.

  “I’m not certain that leech deserves so much of your attention.” Aren’s voice pulled Lara from her thoughts, and she blinked, realizing that she’d been regarding the squirming creature in her hand for far too long.

  “They just gave you back your handsome face, so perhaps you should give them the credit they deserve.”

  Aren smiled and Lara realized what she’d said. With everyone else, she was strategic, but Aren flustered her. Things had a way of slipping out when he was around.

  “It’s going to rain tonight. I thought I might take the opportunity to have a proper dinner at the house. With you.”

  Her face was burning, heart a riot in her chest. “Tonight?”

  He looked away from her. “My ability to predict the weather has its limits. But yes, tonight looks promising.”

  Say yes, her inner voice screamed. Do what you need to do. Except being alone with him . . . Lara wasn’t sure what would happen. Or rather, she was sure and wanted to avoid it all costs.

  Not because she didn’t want him to kiss her, because she did.

  And not because she didn’t want him to peel the clothes from her body, because god, she’d envisioned that more than once.

  It was because she did want him that she needed to avoid this situation, because betraying him was already going to be hard enough.

  Horns blasted, and this time the rhythm wasn’t music, but an anxious rippling blare that tore at her ears. Aren stiffened, his expression intent. “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Aela.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s one of the islands under Kestark’s watch. It’s being attacked.”

  “Kestark?”

  “The garrison south of us.” His eyes were distant, listening. “But Aela’s outpost is calling for Midwatch’s aid.”

  Already soldiers were pouring down the beach, pushing boats out into the water. More horns sounded, and Aren’s face paled.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Their shipbreaker is jammed.” He stood, gesturing to his guards, who were paddling hard toward them. “The outpost is going to be slaughtered. Amarid will take the island, and it will be a bloody nightmare to dig them out.”

  Lara’s mind raced, deciding on a plan even as it formed in her mind. She caught his hand. “Take me with you. If there are injured, I can help.”

  “That’s what we have healers for.”

  “Five of which are elsewhere, two of which are injured themselves. Which leaves you only five to bring with you. It’s not enough to deal with slaughter.”

  “Others will come.”

  The boat was only yards away. She had seconds to convince him.

  “And how many of your people will die in the time it will take for them to arrive?” She tightened her fingers on his. “I
can help them.”

  Indecision ricocheted across his face, then he nodded. “Follow orders. No arguments.” The other boat came alongside, and he hauled Lara and her box of supplies in with him. “Go!” he shouted.

  Paddles drove them toward the gap, the chain already up, the ocean covered with whitecaps beyond. Wild and unpredictable. A prickle of fear crawled down Lara’s spine as she sat in the bottom of the boat.

  “Time to put your experiment to the test,” Aren said as they passed between the towering cliffs, the vessel bucking and plunging the moment they hit the open sea.

  “To Aela!” Jor roared. “Let’s give these Amaridians a taste of Midwatch steel!”

  “To Aela!” The soldiers on the other vessels echoed the chant, and behind them, horns called over the water. Not the musical ripple of a signal, but a violent blast of rage.

  A battle cry.

  22

  Lara

  The boats barely seemed to touch the water as they skated across the sea, a strong north wind filling the sails. Lara’s heart was in her throat, but with her nausea under control, she was able to study the bridge as they followed its great grey length south, eyes picking out scouts perched on its top and the glints of spyglasses on the islands to either side.

  “How long until we reach Aela?” she shouted over the wind.

  “Not long,” Aren replied. “The closest Midwatch teams will already be there.”

  Time seemed to both fly and crawl. A thousand details flooded her mind even as her heartbeat moved into the swift but steady thud it always did before battle. You aren’t here to fight, she reminded herself. You’re here to observe under the cover of helping the healers, nothing more. The words did nothing to calm her anticipation.

  When they rounded an enormous limestone karst tower, all the Ithicanians pulled their masks from their belts and donned them. Weapons loosened. Eyes intent.