Page 107 of The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom 1)

“Is this to be a proclamation, then?” Aster spat. “For us to risk our own children and have no say in the risking?”

If Aren could’ve made it an order, he would’ve, for no reason other than that he would be the one to bear the guilt if things went wrong. But such was not Ithicana’s way. “We vote.”

Slow nods, then Emra’s mother said, “All right, then. Hands for those in favor.”

Hers went up immediately, as did Emra’s and four of the other younger commanders. Including Aren’s vote, that made seven, and he needed nine. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t asked Lara to come back here with him. Odd numbers ensured the vote wouldn’t hang. And having her absent meant no one could hold her accountable.

Several of the old guard, including Aster, stepped back, shaking their heads. But Aren almost fell over in surprise when Mara lifted her hand. Seeing his shock, the commander of Northwatch said, “Just because I question you doesn’t mean I don’t believe in you, boy.”

All who remained to cast their vote was his sister.

Ahnna trailed a finger over Southwatch, her brow furrowed. “If we do this, it will mean the destruction of our relationship with Valcotta. It means war for Ithicana.”

Aren cast his gaze over the replica of his kingdom. “Ithicana has always been at war, and what do we have to show for it?”

“We’re alive. We have the bridge.”

“Don’t you think it’s time we fight for something more?”

Ahnna didn’t answer, and sweat trickled down Aren’s back as he waited for his twin to cast her vote. Waited to see if she could move past her distrust of Lara and Maridrina. If she’d risk taking a chance, this leap of faith. If she’d fight at his side the way she always had.

Ahnna gave her island one last affectionate pat, and then she nodded once. “I swore long ago to fight by your side, no matter the odds. Now is no different. Count Southwatch in.”

39

Lara

Eight weeks later,Lara clunked her mug against Jor’s over the fire pit, shrieking with laughter when a log burst, spraying sparks at their hands.

For the first time in living memory, the months of respite from storms hadn’t meant war for Ithicana, though it felt as though the entire nation had held its breath until the season was declared over.

After a strongly worded warning from Aren to drop the blockade or risk losing the right to trade at the Southwatch market—which the Valcottan Empress had ignored—Ithicana had driven the Valcottan navy ships lurking around Southwatch back, allowing Maridrinian vessels full access. Aren had then proceeded to load Ithicana’s own vessels full of food and supplies, which were delivered into Vencia and distributed to the poor. Again and again, Aren had used Ithicana’s coffers and resources to supply the belabored city until the Maridrinian people were cheering his name in the streets.

Whether it was because he’d lost the support of his people for war or because Lara hadn’t given him the intelligence he’d needed, her father hadn’t lifted a hand against Ithicana. Neither had Amarid, which seemed to still be licking its wounds. And now that the storms were rolling in, both kingdoms had lost the chance for another year. Or perhaps forever, if the strength of the relationship between the Ithicanian and Maridrinian people were any indication.

Not that there hadn’t been consequences. The empress had responded with a letter telling Aren he deserved whatever he got for bedding down with snakes, turning her armada entirely to merchant transport in an attempt to further undercut the bridge’s revenues, which were already halved by the loss of trade with the southern nation. The coffers were drained. But in Lara’s mind, both Maridrinian and Ithicanian civilians were alive. They were safe. Nothing else mattered.

She had done her duty as both princess and queen.

“Your brother should be passing by Midwatch right now,” Jor said, handing her another full mug of ale. “Tide’s low. We could take a stroll through the bridge and pay him a visit. Have a little family reunion.”

Lara rolled her eyes. “I’ll pass.” Her brother Keris had finally convinced their father to allow him to attend university in Harendell to study philosophy, and he was traveling through the bridge with his entire retinue of courtiers and attendants to start his first semester. One of the mail runners had come ahead of them, and he said the party looked like a flock of birds, everyone bedecked in silks and jewels.

“Let’s go,” Aren murmured into her ear. “I’m looking forward to a night with you in a real bed.”

“You’re going to fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow.” She relished the rising heat of desire between her legs as his fingers traced along the veins in her arms. She’d stayed with him at the barracks all through War Tides, but the narrow soldier’s cot hadnotbeen conducive to romance. Although they’d made do.

“I’ll take that bet. Come on.”

He led her out into the gentle rain, the worst of the squall already over. One of Aren’s soldiers was outside, and he looked at her with surprise. “Thought you already went up to the house.”

“Not yet. Jor kept refilling my mug. I expect they’ll be out of ale by the time your shift is up.”

“Thought I saw you, was all.” The big guard frowned, then shrugged. “They’re signaling for a supply pickup at the pier, so we might have more drink arriving.”

“I’ll send some down from the house,” Aren assured the man, tugging on Lara’s arm.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” But Aren was already towing her up the path, the chain in the cove rattling upward behind them. Mud squelched beneath their boots as they made their way up the trail to the house they’d barely visited over the prior eight weeks, neither of them able to relax enough to step away from the barracks.

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