“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.”
“The crown 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 what I said,” 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.
Jor gave a heavy sigh. “She’s not been seen, I’m afraid. But neither could we confirm her death.”
Aren could only hope that Keris had intervened on his aunt’s behalf, because if Coralyn was alive, she might well be wishing she were dead. “You said Ahnna is back in Eranahl?”
“Aye. Apparently had to swim in under the cover of darkness when she came back from Harendell because she couldn’t get a boat past the Amaridians.”
Aren blanched. During the calm, the waters outside of the island fortress were teeming with sharks. “She shouldn’t—”
“She had to,” Jor interrupted. “Morale is bad. Lots of talk about abandoning the city. Abandoning Ithicana. She’s holding everything together to buy you time, but . . .” He hesitated. “As soon as storm season drives off the fleet, there will be an exodus north to Harendell, which has offered safe haven.”
And Ithicana would be no more. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
“If they thought it was for the best, they’d have all left last storm season,” Lara snapped, then tossed her own bag next to his. “They plan to leave because there’s no other choice, not because it’s what they want. We need to give them another option. Jor, what did the Harendellian king say to Ahnna’s proposal?”
Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door, and Jor went to it, taking a tray of steaming food and thanking the girl who’d delivered it. Pouring water from a pitcher, he handed Aren a glass. “The Harendellians are rightly sour about Maridrina holding the bridge, especially given the favoritism being shown to Amarid at Northwatch. Our friend King Edward was quick enough to agree. With conditions, of course.”
“Which were?”
“Trade terms, mostly.” Jor’s mouth tightened. “And Ahnna’s word that she’d return to Harendell once all is said and done. Apparently, it’s about time Crown Prince William was wed.”
Aren opened his mouth to argue that he wouldn’t agree to that, but Jor cut him off. “She gave her word already, so save your breath. But all of it is predicated on you securing Valcotta’s support; there is little point in King Edward coming to our party unless the Empress does, too.”
“So it’s all on me.” Aren drained the water, wishing it were something stronger.
“On you, and you’ve only got a few days to do it. It takes time to organize a party with so many guests, and it has to be done before the storms hit. We’re almost out of time.”
“Then I suppose,” Aren said, “that it’s time the Empress and I had a conversation.”
Jor snorted. “I’m not sure it’s going to be much of a conversation. More like you groveling on your knees for forgiveness.”
Going to retrieve his bag, Aren dug out his razor, rubbing sadly at the beard he’d been using as part of his disguise. “If I am to beg, then I’d better look my best.”
39
Lara
“Do you have a way to prove your identity?” Lara asked Aren, stepping over a puddle on the street, the colored glass beads on her sandals glinting in the sun. Jor had supplied them with appropriate Valcottan clothes. Lara had never seen Aren wear such bright colors, and she might have been amused by his discomfort if not for the gravity of their situation.
“There are details that only Ahnna or I would know,” he answered, leading her out of the way of a donkey pulling a cart, the driver lifting a hand to them in thanks. “That’s not the part that concerns me.” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Maridrina possessing the bridge is undesirable for Valcotta, and yet the Empress has done little about it other than stymie trade. Why?”