Page 7 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

The Magpie rubbed his chin. “Mining . . . You see, Aren, mining isn’t the correct word. That would imply we sought this little bird out, when in reality, she flew to us.”

Aren’s blood chilled.

“Your people seem unwilling to let you go,” Serin said. “And while this was only the first attempt to rescue you, I highly doubt it will be the last.” Then he gestured to the waiting soldiers. “Bring out the other two prisoners.”

But before they could move, a voice cut through the air. “Good God, Serin! Don’t you have holes and dark places where you conduct this sort of business? What’s next? Beheadings at the dinner table?”

Aren turned his head to see a slender man dressed in Maridrinian finery watching from a dozen paces away, his arms crossed and his lip curled up with disgust. He picked his way toward them, carefully avoiding the splatters of blood on the path. Behind him, two Maridrinian soldiers escorted a Valcottan woman, her wrists bound. She was tall and slender, her curly dark hair cut short, her brown eyes wide and framed with an abundance of lashes. Beautiful, but her brown skin bore faded bruises and her bottom lip was scabbed where it had been split.

“Your Highness.” Serin gave a cursory bow. “You are supposed to be in Nerastis.”

“Yes, well, we captured ourselves quite a prize. It seemed prudent that I ensure she arrive in one piece. Broken things make for less valuable leverage.”

Eyeing the captive, Serin arched an eyebrow. “General Zarrah Anaphora, the Empress’s niece. You’ve outdone yourself, Highness. You’ll be in your father’s favor.”

“I doubt that.”

Serin made a noncommittal noise. “Now that you’ve delivered her, I assume you’ll be returning to Nerastis immediately.”

Not a question, but a statement. Whichever one of Silas’s sons this was, the Magpie clearly did not care to have him in Vencia.

The prince pushed a lock of his dark blond hair behind one ear, blue eyes regarding Aren with interest. “Is this the Ithicanian king, then? I must say, he’s less terrifying than I anticipated. I’m rather disappointed to see that he does not, in fact, have horns.”

“Theformerking. Ithicana no longer exists.”

The prince’s gaze flicked to where Emra hung from the wall, then back to Aren. “My mistake. Do carry on.”

Stepping past Aren, he started in the direction of the tower, the soldiers escorting General Anaphora following.

But as they passed, she wrenched out of their grip, falling to her knees in front of Aren. “I am sorry, Your Grace.” Her eyes latched on his, and he saw they glistened with tears. “For all that you have lost. And for the part I played in that coming to pass. I pray one day to have the opportunity to atone.”

Before Aren could answer, one of the soldiers dragged her back up, snarling, “The only thing you should be praying for is that His Majesty chooses not to spike your head on Vencia’s gate, you Valcottan wretch!”

Zarrah spat in the man’s face, and he lifted his hand to strike her, but then the prince’s voice cut the air, his tone frigid. “Have you forgotten the fate of the last man who struck my prize?”

The soldier blanched and lowered his hand, muttering, “Move along.”

The party carried on, but before they disappeared from sight, the prince called back over his shoulder. “Make sure you clean up your mess, Magpie.”

“Get the other two prisoners,” Serin said between clenched teeth. “Time to see what else his Grace has to offer.”

6

Lara

“How you madeit to Harendell and back again without drowning in a sea of your own vomit is a bloody mystery to me, girl.”

Lara lifted her face from the sand and wiped a hand across her mouth, pissed off that after three days stuck on rough seas thegroundnow intended to sway and buck beneath her as some personal form of punishment. “It’s not an experience I care to repeat.” She climbed slowly to her feet before brushing the sand from her skirts.

Only she and Jor stood on the beach, the other Ithicanians—the few survivors of Aren’s honor guard—all remaining in the boat, their faces as dark as the skies behind them.

“We don’t have time to waste on this errand,” Jor said, the politest version of the refrain she’d heard continually since they’d left Eranahl.

“Maybe not.” Bending to retrieve her bag, Lara slung it over her shoulder, eyeing the steep hills she’d need to climb. Best to get that done before the sun was fully up. “But given our circumstances, I don’t see how we have much choice.”

“We could strike now. Your bastard of a father has had Aren forweeks,Lara. God knows what has been done to him.”

“My father won’t have harmed him. Not while he thinks there’s still a chance Ahnna will surrender Eranahl in exchange for Aren’s return.”

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