Page 35 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

“It’s been a long time, little sisters,” Keris said, inclining his head to the Veliant women. “I wish we could’ve reunited under better circumstances.”

Lara stared at him, then her eyes widened. “Keris?”

The prince nodded, a smile rising to his face, though he vanquished it a heartbeat later.

“You’re helping us?”

“I’m helping myself,” Keris answered. “But tonight, our interests are aligned.” He shifted his attention to Zarrah, who stepped past Aren.

Keris reached up to touch a bruise darkening the Valcottan woman’s cheek. “Are you all right?”

“It’s nothing.”

Nodding, the prince turned his attention to Aren. “This is where you part ways with the general.”

“I don’t think so. Zarrah’s coming with us. I intend to make sure she delivers on her end of the deal.”

Keris stepped between him and the Valcottan woman, ignoring Lara and her sisters when they lifted their weapons. “There’s too much chance of you being caught or killed. And her life is more important than yours. While everyone is pursuing you, I’ll get her out.”

Aren scowled. “I’m just your goddamned decoy?”

“Precisely. But given my plan is more likely to achieve that which you desire, perhaps you’ll refrain from whining. Time is short.” Keris gently pushed Zarrah toward the open door, but Aren caught her arm.

Her dark eyes met his. “On my word, if I get out alive, I’ll have supplies delivered to drop points in Ithicana where your people can reach them.” Then she touched her hand to her heart. “Good luck, Your Grace.”

Without another word, she disappeared into the room.

“Time for you to carry on,” Keris said. “But before you go, I need you to make it look like I at leasttriedto stop you.”

“Gladly.” Aren swung, his fist connecting hard with Keris’s cheekbone.

The prince stumbled into the doorframe, wincing as he touched his already swelling face. “You have ten minutes until I start down to alert the guards. Make them count.”

They raced to the top of the tower, reaching a glassed-in room encircled by a wide balcony. The view of the city was incredible, but there was no time to appreciate it. “Where is it?” he demanded.

One of the sisters went to a wall and pulled down a framed piece of artwork. It was pieces of wood and metal laid out in a random pattern, but as the woman pulled apart the frame and dumped the contents at his feet, Aren realized what he was looking at.

“Jor tells me that you should be able to put this together,” she said.

“He’s alive?”

“Was the last time I saw him. He said that if you can’t build this, then perhaps you deserve your fate. I’m Bronwyn, by the way.”

Not answering, Aren dropped to his knees, sorting through pieces while the women pulled on the Maridrinian uniforms that had been hidden in one of the chests.

Lara set clothes and boots next to him. “Move quickly,” she said. “It’s already been five minutes.”

As if he needed more pressure. Sweat beaded on his brow as he fitted together the pieces of the weapon, using the small tools to twist screws and tap parts into place. Seconds rolled by. Then minutes.

“Hurry,” one of the sisters muttered, but Aren ignored her, focusing on the task at hand.

“There.”

Lifting the large crossbow, he tested the mechanism twice to ensure it worked, then picked up the single bolt that had been part of the artwork. While he’d been building, the tall brunette called Bronwyn had taken apart the hollow frame that had encased the artwork, revealing a line of rope, which she handed over.

“You sure this is long enough?” he asked as he pulled on the clothing, shoving his feet into the boots.

She only lifted one eyebrow, then nodded to the balcony. “Time to live up to your reputation, Your Majesty.”

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