No one was allowed in this room but Watch Commanders and their seconds. Not even servants were admitted to clean, the group taking care of the duty with typical Ithicanian efficiency. That she, a Maridrinian, stood in this room was unprecedented, a fact made clear when every head turned toward her, their eyes wide with shock.
“Where’s Jor?” Ahnna’s voice cut through the silence from where she stood next to the replica of Southwatch, her hand resting possessively on the large island.
“Downstairs.” Aren’s voice was curt, though Lara suspected the tone had more to do with nerves than with irritation. He’d known her presence would be questioned.
“Commander, perhaps we might discuss whether Her Majesty’s presence is appropriate,” Mara said. Which was unsurprising. The woman had made no secret of her distaste for Lara, barely speaking to her whenever she was in Eranahl.
Aren turned cool eyes on the commander of Northwatch. “We choose our seconds. Our choices are not questioned.” He jerked his chin toward Aster, whom Mara had taken on as her second after his dismissal from the Kestark command. “Unless you’d care to change that protocol?”
Mara held up her hands in defense. “I only thought you’d wish to have someone with experience as your second, Commander. Emra”—she gestured at the young commander of Kestark—“selected someone with age to compensate for her youth.”
Emra had chosen her mother—a battle-hardened warrior whom Lara liked immensely—as her second, and the woman in question rolled her eyes skyward as her daughter replied, “I chose someone I could trust.”
A small beacon of solidarity, but what relief Lara felt at the young woman’s words was washed away when Ahnna said, “Since when don’t you trust Jor?”
Aren shifted next to Lara, his legs brushing her skirts. She knew that not having his sister’s support hurt. From what she’d gleaned from Taryn, Jor, and the rest of the guards, the twins had been close, fighting at each other’s backs until Ahnna had moved to Southwatch. She’d been the key vote of support in this council chamber in Aren’s marriage to Lara, but judging from the princess’s expression, she deeply regretted that decision.
“Lara is my wife. She is Queen. I trust her, and she is my second.” Lara held her breath as Aren’s gaze roved around the room. “Anyone who has a problem with that can get the fuck out now.”
Mara snorted, but everyone else held their tongues. “Let’s begin, shall we? I want to be on the water before nightfall.”
It was a long process of Mara detailing the developments that had taken place over the storm season. What the Northwatch spies had learned about Harendell and Amarid’s intentions. Where their armies and navies were located. The number of ships that had been built or destroyed. Lara listened intently; it was not lost on her that every ruler in the world would kill to have a spy in her shoes.
“Amarid is replacing the ships they lost raiding last year,” Mara said. “But we’ve tracked their progress, and none will be ready by the beginning of War Tides, so we may see some respite.”
“All of them?” Aren asked. “With what funds? Amarid is nearly bankrupt.”
A bankruptcy that Lara knew had been cemented by Ithicana taking the income Amarid usually received for shipping steel across the Tempest Seas. Of all the kingdoms, north and south, her marriage to Aren had cost Amarid the most.
“Straight from the coffers, near as we can tell,” Aster answered. “It’s not on credit. No one will lend to them anymore.” The older man lifted the page in his hand. “There’s a rumor the ships were financed with gemstones, but that seems unlikely.”
Gemstones. The word plucked at Lara’s mind, important somehow, though she couldn’t think of why. “What sort of gemstones?”
Every pair of eyes in the room shifted to her before moving to Aren. His jaw tightened with obvious irritation. “Answer the question.”
“Rubies,” Aster said. “But Amarid has no mines, so it’s likely nothing more than a rumor.”
Lara’s fingers went to the knife belted at her waist, trailing over the crimson stones embedded in the hilt.
“I’m not interested in rumors,” Aren said. “I’m interested in facts. Find out how Amarid’s paying for the ships. If they’re in bed with someone, I want to know who it is. And what their intentions are.” He waved a hand at Mara to continue, but Lara’s mind stayed with the ships. With the idea that there might be someone outside of Amarid interested in financing further attacks against Ithicana.
“. . . a marked increase in Amarid’s import of certain Maridrinian goods.” Mara’s words stole back Lara’s attention.
“What manner of goods?”
Mara’s expression was unamused. “Cheap wine, mostly.”
“Why, given that Amarid makes the best wines and is known the world over for their distilleries, would they import Maridrinian wine?”
“Clearly a few Amaridians have a taste for cloudy swill,” Mara snapped. “Now moving on.”
“Commander, watch yourself.” Aren’s voice was cold.
The older woman only threw up her hands in exasperation. “I assume the Maridrinians are selling what they can in order to buy what they need—I only noted them as they were unusual and it might be a market we can exploit in the future.”
“It wasn’t a large shipment,” Ahnna interrupted. “Our tolls would have eaten up half the profit, it was such cheap stuff. I snaked a crate of it and included it with the supplies for Midwatch.”
Lara’s pulse was roaring in her ears now, the memory of the bottle of Maridrinian wine in the safe house supplies dancing in front of her eyes, along with the smuggler’s ruby they’d found in it. A ruby that was sitting in her jewelry box at Midwatch. How better to smuggle gemstones than in cheap wine that the Ithicanians were unlikely to touch, that they wouldn’t have even noticed, if Ahnna hadn’t played a prank? If Aren had made the connection, Lara couldn’t tell—he was guarding his reactions too closely.
“May I continue?” Mara demanded, and at Aren’s nod, she gave a swift rundown of Northwatch’s defenses, then passed the meeting to the next commander.
The islands both north and south of Midwatch suffered most of the attacks during the past War Tides, and much of the conversation turned to speculation of whether this year would be the same. Lara listened with one ear, but her mind would not let go of the notion that someone in Maridrina was financing the Amaridian navy.
The conversation moved progressively south, the meeting stopping only when someone needed to relieve themselves and resuming immediately upon the individual’s return. There was no time. Lara could feel it: the galloping thrum of adrenaline that usually preceded a storm, but this time it whispered war. Aren took his turn for Midwatch, barely referring to the notes Lara passed him.
“Midwatch Island itself was only attacked once. On the shoulder season, and obviously by an inexperienced captain, as they sailed directly into the path of our shipbreakers. It was as though they were asking to be sunk. Even still, we had little respite, the other islands under our watch were attacked repeatedly.”
They turned to the particulars, but Lara scarcely heard the conversation, her skin ice-cold. Key to her father’s plan had been Lara witnessing Ithicana’s military tactics from the inside, her training allowing her to understand those tactics and how they could be exploited. All of War Tides, she’d believed every opportunity she had to watch the Ithicanians in action had been luck, but what if it hadn’t been? What if it had been by design? What if it had been ordered by the individual financing the rebuilding of those ships?