Page 85 of The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom 1)

Without another word, the Spymaster of Maridrina left the common room, the door slamming shut in his wake. Picking up the message tube, Aren quickly scanned the contents before shoving it into the bag by his feet, then met Jor’s eyes from across the room.

Time to go.

30

Lara

Lara woke just before dawn,a blanket covering her from toe to chin, a glass of water sitting on the bedside table, and her head throbbing with the worst headache of her life.

Moaning, she rolled over to bury her face in the pillow. The events of the prior night were hazy, but she remembered them well enough for her cheeks to burn as she recalled Aren catching her before she could fall smack on her face. The way she’d curled into his arms as he’d carried her up the stairs. The things she’d said. The thingshe’dsaid.

Sitting upright, Lara eyed her boy’s clothes, which she’d slept in, the boots sitting on the floor next to her bed the only garment that Aren had removed from her after she’d passed out.

Her knives.

Looking around frantically, Lara threw the pillows onto the floor, her heart settling and a faint smile rising to her lips as she saw the blades resting there. Apparently Aren had noticed more of her habits than she’d realized.

Picking up the water, she opened the shuttered windows and looked outside: clear skies and only a light breeze ruffling the laundry hanging from the line across the street.They could go home today.

Home.Shaking her head sharply at the slip, Lara drained the glass in several long gulps, and pulled on her boots. The room was decidedly devoid of dirt, so she used a bit of soot from the lamp to complete her disguise before shoving her few belongings into her bag and stepping out into the hallway.

To find herself face-to-face with half of Aren’s guard.

“What’s going on?” she asked Taryn, who looked strange in the simple dress she wore as disguise.

“Weather’s going to turn. Time to go.”

She was lying.There were very few things that put fear into the eyes of the Ithicanians, and the promise of a storm certainly wasn’t one of them.

Downstairs was already busy with the early-rising merchant class who were breaking their fast, but her eyes immediately found Aren sitting at the bar. Behind it stood Marisol, who, for once, wasn’t polishing a glass, her focus entirely on the man in front of her. Lara’s jaw tightened, but her jealousy fled as she remembered Aren’s words.There will never be anyone but you.

Except with all the lies she’d told, all the ways she’d manipulated him, how could she stay with him?

As Lara stood frozen in the entrance to the common room, Aren turned and caught sight of her. What looked like relief spread across his face. With a final word to Marisol, he dumped a handful of coins on the bar.Something was very wrong.

He strode across the room. “Finally decided to show yourself, cousin? Barely going to have enough time to make the run to Southwatch as it is without waiting on your primping.”

She glowered at him because other patrons were watching, but once he was within arm’s reach, he muttered, “We’ve been compromised. We need to go.”

Jor and the rest of the Ithicanians were outside leaning against the wall with false nonchalance. Despite their apparel, no one with half an eye would believe them sailors. They were too alert, and not a one of them appeared hungover. Unlike her.

“Don’t want to miss the tide,” Aren announced, and immediately they were on the move.

In the harbor, they wove through the crowd at a near run, down to the wharf and onto the dock where their vessel was moored. The Ithicanians who’d remained with the ship were already scurrying about on the deck, readying to set sail. Readying to flee. Lara’s focus sharpened, and she scanned the docks and crowds for any sign of pursuit. Aren had said their cover had been compromised, but there were levels to that statement. If the Maridrinians had discovered they were from Ithicana, that was one thing. If they’d discovered Aren’s identity—or worse,Lara’s—then they were in serious trouble.

“You’re mad, John.” The harbormaster’s paunch shook as he scuttled toward them. “There’s a storm brewing.”

Aren paused at the base of gangplank, using one hand to push Lara up. “Nothing but a squall. It will keep the Valcottans off my heels.”

“Insanity,” the man grumbled. “I’ll keep a space open for you.”

“We’ll be back before lunch. You can buy me a drink or two on my return.”

“More likely that I’ll be toasting your memory.”

Aren’s laugh cut off abruptly. Her hackles rising, Lara turned from her inspection of the darkness swirling in the east to find Serin standing a dozen paces or so behind the harbormaster, his arms crossed behind his back. Watching.

The ship rocked on a swell, and Lara staggered, her shoulders colliding with Aren’s chest, his arm reflexively wrapping around her to catch her balance, holding her against him.

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