Yet such an action would place all the suffering on Maridrina’s people. Lara’s people.
Condemning them to starvation would make him the villain the Magpie had painted. Aren would become the man Lara had been raised to hate. But to cede to her father’s request would mean jeopardizing Ithicana when Valcotta came for retribution. There was no solution.
His father’s voice danced through Aren’s head, words shouted at his mother. Ithicana makes no alliances. We are neutral—we have to be, or war will come for us. But like his mother before him, Aren now believed the time for neutrality had come to an end. Except there was a difference between desiring an alliance and allowing its terms to be dictated by another man.
Aren wavered, then in two strides, he was at his desk. Flipping open the hidden compartment, Aren extracted the letter he’d started to Silas those months ago. Staring at the polite greeting and appropriate honorifics, he shoved the page aside, reaching for a clean sheet.
Silas,
Ithicana will not cease trade with Valcotta. Should you wish to see an end to their naval aggression, I suggest you desist in your attacks on Valcotta’s northern border. Only with peace between your two nations does Maridrina have the chance to return to health and prosperity. As to your insinuation that Ithicana has not held to the spirit of the agreement between our nations, we feel it necessary to point out your hypocrisy in making such a claim. In the best interests of both our peoples, we will forgive your schemes and allow Maridrina to continue to trade at Southwatch market under the terms agreed upon. Let it be said, however, that should you seek to retaliate against your spy, Ithicana will take it as an act of aggression against its queen, and the alliance between our kingdoms will be irrevocably severed.
Choose wisely.
Aren
He stared at the letter, knowing he could never tell Lara what he had written. Her life had been dedicated to easing the plight of her people, and she wouldn’t forgive him threatening those very same people for the sake of protecting her. Yet there could be no other way to ensure Silas wouldn’t harm her. God help him if he was forced to follow through.
Rising, Aren stepped out into the hallway, walking until he found Eli.
“Bring this to the barracks when the storm eases. Tell Jor it’s to be sent immediately to the King of Maridrina.”
Retreating to his rooms, Aren opened the door to the courtyard. And stepped out into the storm.
33
Lara
Lara landed with a thump on her knees, knife gripped in one hand. Darkness surrounded her. Thunder rumbled through the room, followed by two flashes of lightning that faintly illuminated the outline of a window. The wood floor beneath her was polished smooth, and the air was thick with moisture and the earthy scent of jungle.
Hot tears ran down her face, and she scrubbed them off her cheeks. The moment she’d returned to Midwatch, she intended to find her way into Aren’s room to destroy the damnable proof of her betrayal before it could go any further. To do it without him knowing because she could never let him read those words.
It was one thing for him to know that she’d lied to him. Manipulated him. Deceived him. Quite another to read the proof of it. For him to see every moment that he’d believed a connection was growing between the two of them had been a strategy to gain the information she needed. That, after all they’d been through, she had still made the choice to destroy him that fateful night he’d kissed her in the mud.
Not only was it unforgivable, the amount of hurt it would cause him to read it . . . She couldn’t let that happen. Not when simply destroying the pages would eliminate all the evidence. Her plan had been to lightly drug Aren at dinner, then to sneak into his room and start a small fire on his desk that could easily be blamed on a candle left too close to a piece of paper. She could then claim to have smelled the smoke, her screams and pounding on the door enough to wake him and alert the staff. Between the flames and the water it would take to douse them, all the stationery bearing her invisible message would be ruined beyond use. It was a dangerous, damaging plan, but she’d rather chance burning the Midwatch house to the ground than risk Aren questioning why all of his stationery had mysteriously gone missing.
But while Lara had waited for the dinner hour, exhaustion had taken over, and she’d fallen asleep on the clean soft sheets of her bed. Now the scents of dinner were wafting under the door, and she wasn’t the least bit prepared.
“You can fix this,” she muttered, climbing to her feet. Pulling on one of her silken Maridrinian dresses and running a brush through her hair, Lara’s mind raced as she shoved a vial of narcotic into her bracelet. Out in the hallway, she hurried toward the shuttered dining room, certain she’d find Aren there. He was not one to neglect his stomach.
But there was only Eli, who started at the sight of her. “We thought you’d want dinner in your room, my lady,” he said. “Do you wish to eat in here instead?”
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. Do you know where he is?” There was only one he in this house.
“His rooms, my lady. He didn’t want dinner.”
Logic and her training whispered that she should wait for another night. Another opportunity. Better to do that than risk being caught. Yet Lara found herself instead hurrying down the opposite hall to Aren’s room, her bare feet silent on the cool floor.
She knocked, then waited. No answer.
She tried the handle and, for once, found it unlocked. “Aren?”
Aren was nowhere in sight. This was her chance. She could pretend she found the fire burning.
Securing the door, Lara bolted to the heavy desk, immediately spying the open stationery box. And the beginnings of a letter composed to her father.
Her heart in her throat, Lara stared at the few lines of dried ink addressed to her father. How Aren could stomach being so polite to his enemy was beyond her. Though perhaps that he couldn’t stomach it was the reason the letter wasn’t finished.
A purr caught her attention, and she looked down as Aren’s cat began to wind his huge body between her legs, nearly knocking her over. An idea, one better and far less damaging than a fire, jumped into her head. “Sorry for this Vitex. But I need your help.”
She staged the scene, placing the box on its side on the floor, then splattering the letter with ink, leaving the well overturned on the rest of the pages so they were soaked through and unusable. But not before counting the stack. Twenty-five blank pages plus the unfinished letter made for twenty-six.
Luring Vitex over, she scratched his ears, gently taking hold of one of his paws and using it to make distinctive prints through the ink. Realizing what she was doing, the cat hissed at her and pulled away, leaving a trail across the room as he went.
Every muscle in her body twitched, and with a ragged gasp, Lara sank to her knees, staring at what had been the culmination of all her efforts. Of all her training. Of her life. Remembering the way she’d felt the last time she held those pages, knowing that the damning words she’d written would save her people. How wrong she’d been.
Yet with them gone so went the weight she’d been carrying since she’d learned the truth of her father’s deception. What she’d done before . . . It had been awful. The worst sort of betrayal. But it had been motivated by lies that had filled her ears almost her entire life. Whereas turning on her father now was an act driven by the truth. What she was doing now was her own choice.