Page 17 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

“Then I suppose we better go order a drink.”

Despite her large belly, Sarhina swung down from the cart with a nimbleness that still stunned Lara, even having been on the road with her sister for over a week. For much of that time, Ensel had accompanied them, partially to help dissuade anyone from attacking them along the journey, but mostly to reduce any questions people might have about two Maridrinian women traveling alone. He’d started back this morning, and the swelling around her sister’s eyes from the resultant tears had only just faded, the good-byes they’d exchanged sounding permanent enough that Lara had considered trussing Sarhina up and sending her back home.

After tying the mule to a hitching post, Lara led the way into the common room of the inn, the scent of spilled beer and spicy food washing over her as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. It was a rough establishment suited to the small fishing village, the ground covered with sawdust and the furniture showing signs it had endured more than a handful of brawls. Two old men sat at a table in the corner, both more engaged with their bowls of soup than with each other. Otherwise the only other person in the establishment was the barkeep, who stood behind the counter polishing a glass.

Lara gave a long sigh. “We’re in the right place.”

Marisol’s hands paused in their polishing, her eyes fixing on the pair of them. Gone were the expensive embroidered gowns she’d worn when Lara had met her—her dress a drab homespun and her golden hair woven into a single braid down her back. She set down the glass as Lara approached, Sarhina following at her heels. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Hello, Marisol.” Taking a seat on one of the stools, she rested her elbows on the bar. “Far cry from the Songbird.”

“Your visit compromised my cover. It seemed prudent to lay low for a time.”

“Wise.”

Marisol stared at her, and Lara didn’t miss the look in her eyes, the muscles of her jaw tightening visibly, her hands trembling with repressed fury. So it was no surprise when the woman swung her hand, palm cracking against Lara’s face. “They should’ve killed you.Ishould kill you.”

Rubbing her stinging cheek, Lara shook her head at Sarhina, who looked ready to go across the bar. “Fortunately for me, those in power decided I was more useful to them alive than dead.”

“You are a repugnant, disgusting creature,” she hissed. “A traitor. How they can trust you is beyond me.”

“They don’t trust me.” Seeing that the other woman was readying to slap her again, Lara added, “You got your piece. Try it again and I’ll break your wrist.”

Marisol’s eyes grew wary, suggesting that she’d been warned of Lara’s skills, but the anger in them didn’t diminish. “You’re just like your father.”

“Watch yourself.” Sarhina’s voice was frigid, the tone of it drawing Marisol’s attention to her for the first time.

“I was told to come here,” Lara said before the situation could devolve further. “That you could get me back in contact with my associates. Perhaps we might save the catching up for later given that time is of the essence.”

Marisol glared at her, but gave a short nod, then retrieved a green scarf from beneath the counter and headed to the front door.

“Who is she?” Sarhina asked under her breath. “Looks Maridrinian, not Ithicanian. Sounds like it, too.”

“Because you’re so familiar with what Ithicanians look and sound like?” Lara muttered back.

“Just answer the question.”

“She’s Maridrinian, but she spies for the Ithicanians.” Lara hesitated, then added, “Aren used to frequent Vencia in disguise. She was his lover.”

“That much was obvious.”

Their conversation was cut short by Marisol’s return. “Do you want something to eat while you wait?”

Lara shook her head, but Sarhina said, “Yes. And a pint of milk, if you have it. Get my sister here something stronger.”

Marisol’s jaw dropped, then she peered through the dim light at Sarhina’s eyes, which were twin to Lara’s. She shook her head, then growled, “I hope one of you princesses has coin to pay.”

“Put it on our associates’ tab,” Sarhina replied, then pulled Lara over to one of the tables. “You look nervous. Should we be worried?”

“The only thing I’m worried about is whether I will be able to deliver onmypromises.” They’d heard nothing from Bronwyn or Cresta about whether they’d been successful in recruiting the rest of their sisters, and at this point, Lara was concerned that she’d wasted weeks on a fool’s errand that would have been better used in Vencia trying to free Aren.

Sarhina made a noncommittal noise, seemingly more interested in the food Marisol was bringing in their direction. The woman slammed the tray down on the table. “Enjoy.” Then she retreated to the bar and her glassware.

Pulling one of the bowls in front of her, Sarhina began eating with gusto. “It’s not bad. You should eat.”

Probably true, but the thought of putting anything in her stomach made Lara nauseous. Picking up her glass instead, she sipped the amber liquid, recognized the taste, and lifted it in toast to Marisol. The other woman only gave her a flat glare.

“They’re here.” Sarhina paused in her eating, watching the two old men in the corner abandon their food and leave the common room.

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