The worst of the injured went to the dozen healers stationed at Midwatch, but those needing only stitches or bandages were left in Lara’s boat for her to tend to. More often than not, one of her patients was Aren, which was the only time Taryn left her side.
“I’m starting to wonder,” she said as she applied a leech to the swelling on his cheek, smirking when he recoiled from the creature, “if you are purposefully trying to get yourself injured or if you are just that inept.”
He cringed as she lifted another leech out of the jar. “Is there a third option?”
“Sit still.” She applied the leech the way the healers had shown her, marveling at the way the swelling almost instantly reduced on his cheekbone, the engorged creatures dropping into her hands when they’d finished. Along with supplies, the healers had also insisted that she be given a better boat, returning her little canoe to its dry dock. She’d been sneaking out at nights to slowly move the vessel to the hiding place she’d selected near one of the cliffs, along with a number of stolen supplies, ready to facilitate her escape when the time was right.
“You seem to be doing better with the water.”
“I don’t get sick anymore. Though I suppose it might be different out in the open where the waves are larger.”
“Perhaps someday we’ll test that theory.”
Someday. Which meant no time soon. It was a struggle to keep the frown from her face because she was running out of ideas for winning him over. She had won his lust, that much was clear from the way his eyes skimmed over the unlaced neckline of her tunic. Winning his trust, however, was proving to be far more of a challenge.
She’d thought, for a time, it was because their marriage had yet to be consummated. That maybe he needed that step before he’d hand her the metaphorical keys to the kingdom, but she had since rejected that theory. Aren was not, judging from the offhand comments she’d heard from his soldiers, inexperienced with women, so it would take more than skill in the bedroom to make him fall for her.
And it would take more than him falling for her to make him trust her.
For as much as he might come to care for her, he loved his people more. His trust would only come if he believed she was as loyal to his people as he was.
“I’m not certain that leech deserves so much of your attention.” Aren’s voice pulled Lara from her thoughts, and she blinked, realizing that she’d been regarding the squirming creature in her hand for far too long.
“They just gave you back your handsome face, so perhaps you should give them the credit they deserve.”
Aren smiled and Lara realized what she’d said. With everyone else, she was strategic, but Aren flustered her. Things had a way of slipping out when he was around.
“It’s going to rain tonight. I thought I might take the opportunity to have a proper dinner at the house. With you.”
Her face was burning, heart a riot in her chest. “Tonight?”
He looked away from her. “My ability to predict the weather has its limits. But yes, tonight looks promising.”
Say yes, her inner voice screamed. Do what you need to do. Except being alone with him . . . Lara wasn’t sure what would happen. Or rather, she was sure and wanted to avoid it all costs.
Not because she didn’t want him to kiss her, because she did.
And not because she didn’t want him to peel the clothes from her body, because god, she’d envisioned that more than once.
It was because she did want him that she needed to avoid this situation, because betraying him was already going to be hard enough.
Horns blasted, and this time the rhythm wasn’t music, but an anxious rippling blare that tore at her ears. Aren stiffened, his expression intent. “What is it?” she demanded.
“Aela.”
“Who?”
“It’s one of the islands under Kestark’s watch. It’s being attacked.”
“Kestark?”
“The garrison south of us.” His eyes were distant, listening. “But Aela’s outpost is calling for Midwatch’s aid.”
Already soldiers were pouring down the beach, pushing boats out into the water. More horns sounded, and Aren’s face paled.
“What’s happening?”
“Their shipbreaker is jammed.” He stood, gesturing to his guards, who were paddling hard toward them. “The outpost is going to be slaughtered. Amarid will take the island, and it will be a bloody nightmare to dig them out.”
Lara’s mind raced, deciding on a plan even as it formed in her mind. She caught his hand. “Take me with you. If there are injured, I can help.”
“That’s what we have healers for.”
“Five of which are elsewhere, two of which are injured themselves. Which leaves you only five to bring with you. It’s not enough to deal with slaughter.”
“Others will come.”
The boat was only yards away. She had seconds to convince him.
“And how many of your people will die in the time it will take for them to arrive?” She tightened her fingers on his. “I can help them.”
Indecision ricocheted across his face, then he nodded. “Follow orders. No arguments.” The other boat came alongside, and he hauled Lara and her box of supplies in with him. “Go!” he shouted.
Paddles drove them toward the gap, the chain already up, the ocean covered with whitecaps beyond. Wild and unpredictable. A prickle of fear crawled down Lara’s spine as she sat in the bottom of the boat.
“Time to put your experiment to the test,” Aren said as they passed between the towering cliffs, the vessel bucking and plunging the moment they hit the open sea.
“To Aela!” Jor roared. “Let’s give these Amaridians a taste of Midwatch steel!”
“To Aela!” The soldiers on the other vessels echoed the chant, and behind them, horns called over the water. Not the musical ripple of a signal, but a violent blast of rage.
A battle cry.
22
Lara
The boats barely seemed to touch the water as they skated across the sea, a strong north wind filling the sails. Lara’s heart was in her throat, but with her nausea under control, she was able to study the bridge as they followed its great grey length south, eyes picking out scouts perched on its top and the glints of spyglasses on the islands to either side.
“How long until we reach Aela?” she shouted over the wind.
“Not long,” Aren replied. “The closest Midwatch teams will already be there.”
Time seemed to both fly and crawl. A thousand details flooded her mind even as her heartbeat moved into the swift but steady thud it always did before battle. You aren’t here to fight, she reminded herself. You’re here to observe under the cover of helping the healers, nothing more. The words did nothing to calm her anticipation.
When they rounded an enormous limestone karst tower, all the Ithicanians pulled their masks from their belts and donned them. Weapons loosened. Eyes intent.
Then she saw it.
The ship was larger than any she’d seen before, a great three-masted monstrosity as tall as the bridge itself. She picked out the Amaridian flag, countless soldiers scurrying about its deck. Beyond, a half dozen longboats were moving toward a narrow beach on which a battle was being waged, the sand soaked with blood.