Turning around, Zarrah added, “No women fitting the descriptions of those who assisted you, either. Were they truly all your sisters?”
Lara met her stare. “Yes.”
The other woman’s eyebrows rose. “Fascinating. I wonder if it’s ever dawned on your father that Maridrina might win the war between our two nations if he set aside his foolish notions about a woman’s role.”
“That would require him admitting he was wrong in the first place,” Lara replied. “Which seems unlikely.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Zarrah lifted one shoulder. “Your homeland’s misfortune has long been to Valcotta’s benefit, so I cannot honestly admit that I’m sorry.”
Lara didn’t bother answering. Aren, she noticed, was listening intently, but he made no comment either.
They continued down the pathways in silence, Lara drinking in the beauty of the enormous garden, which was crisscrossed with streams, ornate footbridges or smooth stepping stones allowing people to cross the water. There were places where the water pooled, and children swam and played in its depths, reminding her of Eranahl’s cavern harbor, where they’d done the same.
The towers that she’d seen from outside the walls were the only enclosed structures, rising several stories high, and it was to one such tower that Zarrah led them.
Armed guards swung open the doors, which were made of twisted metal inset with glass of a thousand different colors to create the image of a Valcottan woman with her hands held up to a blue sky. Inside, a curved staircase led upward, but Zarrah gestured past it to a windowed chamber filled with small tables and large cushions.
Against one wall stood an enormous soldier. Taller even than Aren, his bulging arms were thicker than Lara’s legs. Despite his size, Lara’s attention was drawn to the slender woman sitting upon one of the cushions, hands engaged with what appeared to be a small doll that she was creating with colored yarns.
“Aunt,” Zarrah said, with a distinct lack of formality, “might I present His Royal Majesty, King Aren of Ithicana, Master of the Bridge—”
“Ah, but you’re not its master anymore, are you, boy?” the Empress interrupted, attention still on the doll. “That honor belongs to the Maridrinian rat. I imagine that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Before Aren could answer, she continued. “And you, girl. I assume you’re the rat’s get? You’ll be accorded no titles in this house. Be glad I don’t have you dragged outside and your throat slit.”
Lara tilted her head. “Why don’t you?”
The woman’s hands stilled. “Because as much as we might wish it otherwise, your life doesn’t belong to Valcotta. Nor your death.”
“Your honor is my salvation.”
The Empress huffed out an annoyed breath. “Don’t speak to me of honor.”
Setting aside the doll, the woman rose to her feet. Taller than Lara, she was both lean and muscular, adding credence to the tale that she’d once been a formidable warrior in her own right. Beautiful, the only sign of age was a slight crinkling of the skin around her eyes and the gray of her hair, which stood out from her head in tight curls. Woven through it were wires of gold, on which dozens of amethysts sparkled. The wide-legged trousers and stomach-baring blouse she wore were golden silk, her belt heavy with embroidery and gemstones. Gold bracelets climbed both arms to her elbows, her ears were cuffed with gold and gems, and her throat was encased with an intricately carved gold necklace. It was amazing that she could stand beneath the weight of all that metal, but she bore it as though it were light as a feather.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” Aren said, bowing his head low. “It is a privilege to meet you in person.”
“A privilege or a necessity?” The Empress asked, circling Aren in measured strides, her bare feet making no sound on the tiled floor. The Empress was, Lara thought, the most regal person that she’d ever met.
“Can’t it be both?”
The Empress pursed her lips, making a noncommittal noise in response. “For the sake of your mother, who was our dearest of friends, we are pleased to see you alive. But for ourselves?” Her voice hardened. “We do not forget how you spit upon our friendship.”
Lara stiffened, wishing desperately that she had a weapon. Bringing Aren here had always been a risk, but she’d believed the Empress too honorable to do him any harm beyond refusing to aid Ithicana. What if she were wrong? Could she get him out? Was escape even possible?
The giant soldier standing near the wall had seen her motion, and he moved closer, brown eyes watching her intently, judging her, correctly, as the threat. Aren wouldn’t hurt the Empress, but Lara suffered no such compunctions.
Aren also showed no signs of concern. Rubbing his chin, he regarded the Empress thoughtfully. “You speak of my mother as your dearest friend, and yet it was her who proposed the Fifteen Year Treaty between Ithicana, Harendell, and Maridrina, including the marriage clause. My mother formed the alliance with your greatest enemy, and for it you held her no ill will. And yet when I followed through on her wishes, I lost favor in your eyes.”
The Empress paused in front of Aren, expression smooth, dark brown eyes unreadable. “Your mother had little choice. Ithicana was starving. And the treaty as she wrote it cost Valcotta nothing. It was the terms you agreed to fifteen years later that were the slight.” She leveled a finger at him. “My soldiers dying on steel supplied by Ithicana’s bridge.”
Lara knew that Aren had hated those terms. Had wanted to supply Maridrina with anything but weapons. Just as she knew her father hadn’t given him any choice.
But instead of using the argument, Aren gave a slow shake of his head. “Steel supplied by Harendell, which Maridrina was already importing by ship. It cost them less, yes, but to say they were at any greater advantage against your soldiers is a fallacy. It also gave Valcotta the unique opportunity to prevent Silas from retrieving his precious import for the better part of a year, so one might argue that the terms worked in your favor.”
It was true, though the thought had never occurred to Lara. Prior to the treaty, the steel had come on ships from Harendell or Amarid—ships which Valcotta could not attack without risking retaliation from those two nations. But after the treaty, all the steel went through the bridge to wait on Southwatch until Maridrinian vessels could retrieve it—Maridrinian vessels that Valcotta had no qualms against sinking.
“What benefit we saw faded swiftly when you turned your shipbreakers on my fleet,” the Empress countered. “You chose your alliance with Maridrina over your friendship with Valcotta, and now you come weeping because you discovered your ally was a rat.”
Aren shook his head. “You put Ithicana in a position where all paths led to war, and when I gave you a path to peace, you refused it.”
“It was no choice.” The Empress threw up her hands. “If we’d dropped the blockade, Maridrina would’ve gotten what it wanted without a fight. More steel to use against Valcotta. Besides, it was clear that the last thing Silas wanted was peace. Especially peace with Ithicana.”
Lara held her breath, waiting for Aren to react to the revelation. Waiting for his anger to flare. But all he said was, “If you foresaw what was to come and said nothing, what friend are you?”