Page 9 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

“Tell us how to take Eranahl.”

Serin whispered the words, the feel of the man’s breath against Aren’s ear cutting through his exhaustion and sending waves of revulsion down his spine. For days, he’d been locked in the tiny, barren room and subjected to the spymaster’s questions, all of which he’d refused to answer.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Aren growled around the piece of wood they’d fixed between his teeth, lest he get any ideas about biting off his tongue. “It’s impenetrable.”

“What about up the cliffs?” The tone of Serin’s voice never changed, no matter what Aren said. No matter how hard he tried to bait him. “Could a single soldier make it inside the volcano crater undetected?”

“Why don’t you try?” Aren attempted to shift his head enough that he could see the spymaster, but the motion sent his whole body rotating on the chains he dangled from, his vision fuzzy from the blood pooling in his head. “Though I expect you already have. Did my sister use the shipbreakers to throw the corpses at your ships? Ahnna hasverygood aim.” If she were even there. If she were even still alive.

“Describe the interior of the crater to me.” Serin walked with Aren as he rotated. “What does it look like? What materials are the buildings made of?”

“Use your imagination,” Aren hissed, but he was having trouble keeping his focus, his consciousness blurring and fading.

Undeterred, Serin kept asking questions. “The gate . . . Is it the same design as the portcullis at Southwatch?”

“Kiss my ass.”

“How many soldiers are guarding it?”

Aren gritted his teeth, wishing he’d pass out but knowing they’d only wake him up with a bucket of water to the face. And then it would be more questions. Endless questions. That much Aren knew. After days of this torment, Arenknew.

“How many vessels do you keep inside that cavern?”

“How many civilians live on the island?”

“How many children are there?”

All Aren wanted to do was sleep. Anything, anything to sleep. But Serin wouldn’t allow him more than a few minutes before tearing him awake in the worst sorts of ways. Ways that made his heart want to explode out of his chest from the panic.

“What sort of supplies does the city have?”

“Where do you keep them?”

“What is their source of water?”

“Rain, obviously!” The words exploded from Aren’s lips, his whole body trembling and shaking. Hot and then cold. Why the hell was the man asking such stupid questions?

Abruptly, Aren was lowered to the damp floor of his chamber. Two guards caught him under the arms, then dragged him to his cot, where he was unceremoniously dumped, one of them unfastening the piece of wood from between his teeth and then handing him a cup of water. Aren guzzled it down, and the guard refilled it without comment.

Slumping onto the cot, Aren curled around his chained wrists.

There’s no harm in giving him answers to useless questions,he told himself, barely noticing as the guard tossed a blanket over him. But his anxiety followed him into sleep.

He dreamed of Midwatch.

Of the hot springs in the courtyard.

Of Lara.

Of teaching her to float on her back, her naked body suspended on his hands, her hair swirling on the eddies from the current. She arched her back, full breasts rising above the water, her nipples peaking as cold raindrops struck them. His eyes trailed down the flat plains of her stomach to linger where the froth from the waterfall revealed and then concealed the apex of her thighs, igniting a desire that never truly ebbed when he was in her presence. “Relax,” he murmured, not certain whether he was instructing her or himself. “Let the water carry you.”

“If you let go of me,” she answered, “I shall not be pleased.”

“It’s only waist-deep.”

She opened her eyes to regard him, steam beading on her lashes. “That’s not the point.”

Smiling, he bent and kissed her lips, tasting her thoroughly before whispering, “I’ll never let you go.”

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