“It’s the council’s duty to question you. They pushed your mother constantly, especially about this. She learned to know when they were giving good advice and when it was their fear talking—when to stand her ground and when to concede.”
Aren extracted his spyglass, scanning the blackness for any lights on the horizon marking a ship. “You think I was right to stand my ground on this?”
The only sound was the wind howling and the waves slamming against the cliffs below. “I don’t know. I’m not sure there is a right choice in this, Aren. All paths lead to war.” Jor leaned back on his hands. “But what’s done is done, at least so far as the battle facing us is concerned. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a piss.”
The older man silently disappeared into the jungle and then not so silently did his business. Aren remained crouched on the rocks, shoving his hands in his pockets to warm them. With the evacuation mostly complete, his people had answered the annual call to arms, everyone between fifteen and fifty either at or on their way to their assigned garrison, the only exception being families with small children, who only sent one parent. Able bodies fought. Those unable played other roles, whether it be watch duties, dispatching signals, organizing supply drops, or managing the complex task of ensuring every one of the hundreds of outposts were appropriately manned. Ithicana didn’t have civilians during War Tides. It had an army.
An army that was furious that Amarid had caught them with their trousers down at Serrith. An island that just happened to be under Aren’s watch.
Over and over, he replayed the War Tides council meeting in his head, seeing a hundred things he could’ve done differently. Said differently.
“I understand you took heavy losses at Serrith, Your Grace.” Watch Commander Mara’s voice echoed in his head. “That’s twice Amarid has sneaked up on you, and War Tides has only just begun. The pretty Maridrinian girl must be quite distracting.”
Everyone in the room had shifted uneasily, Lara the crux of the barb, not the losses. They knew that Serrith was a nightmare to defend, the proximity of the bridge to the beach allowing vessels to hide beneath it while launching landing craft, rendering the shipbreakers useless. It took manpower and preparation to hold off an attack, and even then, with heavy fog, the soldiers stationed there would only have had a few minutes—the time it took for the longboats to reach the beach—to mount their defense. Which would’ve been enough if the man on watch hadn’t fallen asleep at his post. A mistake the soldier had paid for with his life.
“I understand she was with you when the attack happened. In the bridge.”
There’d been no hope of keeping that quiet. Not with all the evacuees from Serrith now in Eranahl. Gossip moved faster than a tempest in Ithicana. The only saving grace was that Aster was late to the meeting. If the Watch Commander knew what Lara had seen, the old bastard would burst a blood vessel. “It’s never been my intention to keep Lara locked up. You all know that.”
Yet neither had it been his intention to bring her into the bridge or for her to see how his military used it to fight their enemies. But watching her panic in the boat, gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably . . . He hadn’t been able to take it. He wasn’t about to admit that in front of these battle-hardened men and women whose respect he needed to earn.
“Knowing your intentions isn’t the same as agreeing with them. The Maridrinians are rats. Let one loose, and soon all of Ithicana will be infested with them.”
“The Maridrinians are our allies,” Ahnna said from where she stood at the far end of the large replica of Ithicana, her hand resting protectively on Southwatch island.
Mara made a face. “The Maridrinians are our business partners at best, Ahnna. We pay them for peace. That’s not an alliance.”
But it could be, Aren thought before he interjected. “They gave us fifteen years of peace in exchange for nothing, Mara. They proved their commitment to the treaty, and now it’s time for us to do the same.”
“But at what cost?” Mara gestured to the middle of the map, where model Amaridian ships sat to represent the lurking enemy fleet. The Amaridians were always Ithicana’s worst raiders, primarily because they were competitors for the same business: trade between the continents. Amaridian merchant vessels took the greatest risks, making the crossing north and south even during storm season, primarily trafficking goods Ithicana wanted no part of in its markets. Maridrina had made heavy use of their services. Until now. And the Amaridian Queen clearly intended to make her displeasure over that fact known.
“Once terms are negotiated with Harendell they’ll check Amarid’s navy,” said Aren. For while Amarid might risk quarrelling with Ithicana, picking battles with their enormous neighbor was another thing entirely.
“Has Harendell sent for Ahnna yet?”
Aren sensed his twin shifting nervously behind him. “No.”
“Begun trade negotiations?”
“Not yet.” Sweat dribbled down Aren’s back, and it was a struggle not to grind his teeth. “Which isn’t surprising. They’ll be waiting to see how the peace stands in the south before they start making demands.”
“Doesn’t smell like peace.” Everyone turned to watch Commander Aster enter the room. “Smells to me like war.”
He handed Aren a folded letter sealed with amethyst-colored wax stamped with the Valcottan emblem of crossed staffs. “Ran into the mail runner in the bridge and thought to bring this to you directly.”
You mean you thought to have me read it in front of everyone, Aren thought, cracking the wax with more force than was necessary, reading the few lines and struggling to keep a grimace from his face as he set the page down on the replica of Midwatch. The Empress of Valcotta was a reasonable woman. The Valcottans were reasonable people. But both hated Maridrina in a way that bordered on religion. It was a sentiment that the Maridrinians returned.
“Well?” Mara demanded at the same time Aster blurted out, “Has Valcotta declared war on us?”
Eyes on the page, Aren read: “To His Royal Majesty, King Aren Kertell, King of Ithicana, Ruler of the Tempest Seas and Master of the Bridge.”
Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, and he knew why. Until today, the Empress had always addressed him as Dearest Aren, beloved son of my friend, God keep her soul in peace. The use of his titles was not a good sign.
He continued. “Long have Valcotta and Ithicana been friends—”
“Friends who raid when the weather’s nice,” Jor muttered from where he stood at Aren’s left.
“All friends quarrel on occasion,” Aster said. “Will you continue, Your Grace?”
Aren coughed. “Long have Valcotta and Ithicana been friends, and it grieves us terribly to learn that you have chosen to betray that friendship by siding with Maridrina against us.”
Someone in the room let out a low whistle, but Aren didn’t lift his head from the page. “It breaks our heart to know that our dear friend Ithicana now supplies our mortal enemy in their unjust attacks against our lands. And all our dead we shall lay at your feet.”
No one spoke.
“Strong is our desire to maintain our friendship with Ithicana, but this affront cannot go unanswered. Once the calm is upon us, we shall deploy our fleets to blockade our foe, Maridrina, from reaching your markets at Southwatch island until this offensive alliance is broken.”