Page 3 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

Silas laid it flat on the table. Aren’s writing was barely visible through the watermarks and bloodstains. “On one side, she betrays me. On the other”—he flipped it over—“she betrays you. A puzzle. I must say, we were uncertain what to make of it, especially in conjunction with your visit to my fair city. Tell me, where do you believe Lara’s loyalties lie?”

Aren’s shirt glued itself to his back, the stink of sweat filling his nose. “Given our present circumstances, I’d say the answer is obvious.”

“On the surface, perhaps.” The Maridrinian king’s fingers grazed over the damning piece of paper. “If I might ask, who killed Marylyn?”

“I did.” The lie slipped out before Aren could question why he felt the deception necessary.

“No,” Silas mused. “No, I don’t think you did.”

“Believe what you want. It makes no difference.”

Folding the paper, Lara’s father leaned over to tuck it into the neck of Aren’s shirt. “Let me tell you a story. A story about a girl raised in the desert with her beloved sisters. A girl who, upon hearing that her own father intended to kill her and ten of her sisters, chose not to save herself but toriskherself to save their lives. Chose not to flee into a certain future but to condemn herself to a dark fate. All to save those precious lives.”

“I’ve heard this story.” Pieces of it. From Lara. And from the sister she’d murdered.

“Heard it, perhaps. But did you understand it? For within every good story, there is something to be learned.”

“By all means, enlighten me.” Aren lifted his bound wrists. “I’m a captive audience.”

Silas chuckled, then asked, “Why, given the girl was so damned and determined to protect her sisters’ lives, would she take one of them herself?”

“Marylyn threatened the others.”

“The others were not there. She had time. Yet instead of using it, she snapped her sister’s neck. Which leads me, Aren, to believe that something she valued greatly was in more immediate jeopardy.”

Images flashed across Aren’s vision. Lara’s face when her eyes had landed upon him on his knees, her sister’s knife at his throat. The way she’d searched the room, not for a means of escape, but for a way through an impossible situation. There had only been one choice: his life or Marylyn’s.

Silas Veliant leaned across the table, not seeming to care that he was well within reach of Aren’s hands. “I made my daughter a promise,Your Majesty”—his voice was full of mockery—“I promised that if she ever betrayed me, I’d have her killed in the worst of ways. And I always keep my promises.”

Maridrinian bastard blue. That was the color of this man’s eyes. And Lara’s. But whereas hers had been full of depth and life, staring into her father’s eyes was like meeting the gaze of a snake. Cold. Dispassionate. Cruel. “She didn’t betray you. You have what you wanted.”

A slow smile revealed teeth that had seen too much tobacco. “Even now, after all she’s cost Ithicana, you lie for her. You love her.”

Thatwas a lie. Lara had cost Ithicana its bridge. Its people their lives. Aren his throne. Hehatedher. “I care nothing for her.”

Silas chuckled, then murmured, “We shall see. For of a surety, she knows I have you here. And with even greater surety, she will come for you. And when she does, I will cut her down.”

“I’ll hand you the sword.”

His chuckle turned to a wild, jarring laugh. “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune when your wife is on her knees begging for your life. Or when she starts to scream for her own.”

Without another word, the King of Maridrina rose, leaving Aren alone and chained in the garden. And though for days all Aren had wanted wassightto wipe away the vision of her face, now he closed his eyes to see it.Run, Lara. And don’t ever look back.

4

Lara

The soundof footfalls invaded her dreams, and Lara jerked upright, blinking blurrily in the darkness.

How many days had she been down here? Without the sun, the only way to tell was the daily arrival of her singular meal.Six? Seven?She shook her head to try to clear the fog, then focused on the light that accompanied the footsteps.

The Princess of Ithicana, Commander of Southwatch Island, and Aren’s twin sister appeared before her cell door. Ahnna gave her a once-over. “You look like shit.”

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

And Lara wasn’t the only one looking the worse for wear. Ahnna was dressed in the typical tunic, trousers, and boots worn by most everyone in Ithicana, her dark hair pulled into a tail at the back of her head. But shadows darkened the skin beneath her eyes, and her mouth was drawn into a thin line of exhaustion. The wound Ahnna had received fighting the Maridrinian invaders was still a livid red line stretching from forehead to cheekbone, and as Lara watched, she touched it once, as though reminding herself it was still there.

Though she was terrified to ask, Lara said, “Is there news of Aren?”

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