Page 69 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

“I thought you were dead.” Jor’s voice was choked, like he was trying to fight back tears, though Aren had never seen the man cry in all his life.

“It was a near thing more times than I care to count,” Aren said, noting that all the other patrons were staring. Pushing Jor back into his seat, Aren righted the table and sat back down. “Believe me, if I never see the desert again, it will be too soon.”

“The desert?” Jor’s eyes widened, then he turned to look at Lara, who stood a few steps away, a faint smile still on her face. “That wasn’t the plan, girl. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Later. We’ve more important matters to discuss.”

Jor’s gaze darkened, and he nodded. “But not here.” Rising, he called to one of the serving girls, “Put it on my tab, lass. The glass, too.”

“You ever going to pay that tab, old man?” the girl responded, but there was affection in her voice. “I’ll have food sent up to your room. Mind you eat it—you’re withering away.”

It was true. Aren picked out the differences in Jor as he followed him out of the coffeehouse toward a flight of stairs. His shoulders were stooped in a way they hadn’t been before, his frame narrower, and his steps slower. Less certain. He was no longer a young man, but it wasn’t time that had aged him in the months they’d been apart. Jor had watched over Aren since he was old enough to walk, sacrificing his own opportunity for a family in order to keep Ithicana’s heir safe—to keep him alive. And Aren knew that Jor blamed himself for his capture, which meant he’d have blamed himself while believing Aren dead. “Thank you. For getting me out. And for waiting for me.”

Jor looked over his shoulder, brown eyes meeting Aren’s. But the only acknowledgment he gave was a short nod. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he opened the door to a room on the second floor, revealing a suite that overlooked the atrium at the center of the hotel.

“Fancy.”

“Was meant for you. It’s a good thing you showed when you did because I think our man downstairs was considering evicting me in favor of a paying customer. Only the fact that Silas’s men are crawling all over the city gave us any hope that you were still alive.”

Scowling, Aren tossed his meager bag of belongings in the corner. “Serin anticipated where we were going and cut us off. That’s why we had to go through the desert. But never mind them. What of Eranahl? And Ahnna?”

“Eranahl still stands, as does your sister. She’s there now.”

The relief that rushed through Aren almost brought him to his knees. “Thank God.”

“Don’t go thanking anyone just yet. The city’s surviving thanks to the supplies delivered by a mystery benefactor to some of the neighboring islands, but even if that individual is inclined to make another drop, there’s no way to get it unless we get a bad storm. Eranahl is surrounded day and night by Amaridian ships. And the calm season this year has lived up to its name.”

“So Zarrah was true to her word,” Lara said.

“As was your brother.”

Jor raised one eyebrow in confusion, so Aren added, “It was Zarrah Anaphora who arranged for the supplies. She agreed to it in exchange for me arranging her escape from Silas, though in reality, what I was arranging was a distraction so that Keris Veliant could free her.”

“Thecrown prince?”

Aren nodded. “It turns out the philosopher prince is quite the political schemer. He wants to rid Maridrina of both his father and our bridge, so in him we have an ally.”

“You shouldn’t trust him.”

“That’s whatIsaid,” Lara muttered. “We are a means to an end with him, and if another opportunity to achieve what he wants presents itself, he’ll throw us to the wolves without shedding a tear.”

“Maybe.” Aren had had a great deal of time to consider Keris’s motivations—the long game, as the prince had put it, and he wasn’t convinced that Keris was as self-motivated as he presented himself to be. Anyone with resources and coin could’ve arranged for a ship full of supplies to be dropped in Ithicana, which begged the question of why Keris felt Zarrah had needed to be freed in order to achieve that end. And Aren was fairly certain he knew the answer. “Is Zarrah here?”

“If she is, I’ve not heard word of it. Perhaps she’s returned to her command of the Valcottan garrison in Nerastis? That’s where Keris is, by the way. The chatter around Pyrinat is that he set sail from Vencia the day after your escape. He’s resumed his own command of the Maridrinian forces on the border, and he’s taken a much more active interest in his duties than he has in the past.”

“Likely cover for the fact that he smuggled Zarrah out from beneath his father’s nose.”

“Do you have word about my sisters?” Lara’s voice was steady as she asked the question, but Aren saw the way her hands clenched and unclenched, revealing her nerves.

“You’re an aunt.”

She gasped. “Sarhina?”

Jor smiled and slapped Lara on the shoulder, making her stagger. “Right as rain. Nana delivered her baby girl not half a day after you parted ways. Bronwyn was holding strong the last I heard before I departed, and the rest of your sisters in Vencia made it through relatively unscathed.”

Lara gave a quick nod, wiping at her eyes.

“What of Coralyn?” Aren asked.

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